Pure Love ✕ Insult Complex - Chapter 117

[Mature content.]

Chloe Carlson, 35, was a married woman living with her cheating husband— Vincent Gray, and their daughter— Mackenzie.

Her failing marriage led her to file a divorce after 10 years, but her husband refused to sign it.

“I know what you want Chloe, you want my money after we divorced. You want to take everything from me and I will not let that happen!” Vincent accused.

“I don't need your Money, Vincent! I just want to take Mackenzie with me and leave!”

At last, she left her bastard husband without taking a cent from him. She was going to carve her own path in life and give her daughter the best in the world.

However, things aren’t working so well with a single mother like Chloe. It was difficult to find job because she was a housewife without qualification for a long time. Thus, in desperation as she needed to care for her daughter, she only had one way out.

She contacted her brother-in-law— Vernon Phoenix Gray, 25, a young, heartless playboy, who happened to be the CEO of a skyrocketing company, asking him for a job in this tough time.

“A job? That's not an issue. You can work as my personal assistant and take care of all my daily needs.” Vernon smirked and leaned in. “Especially in bed,” he whispered in her ear.

—

Would Chloe fall into the hands of her evil brother-in-law and become a slave of his whim?

Or would she return to her abusive scum husband for their daughter’s future?

—

Note: There is an age gap in this story,

Chloe is 35 years old.

Vincent is 35 years old.

Vernon is 25 years old.

[ADULT CONTENT WARNING: Explicit intimacy and mature relationship themes. 18+ only.]Seven years together. Two years married.To the world, Alexander Montclair is the perfect husband gentle, patient, and calm. A man who never raises his voice and believes love should be quiet and understanding.But behind closed doors, his silence speaks louder than anger.In our marriage, his family comes before everything. His mother’s wishes dictate our lives, while my own needs are expected to wait. Every compromise, every apology, every sacrifice, it’s always me who gives in.The only time I feel chosen is in our intimacy moment, when desire briefly drowns out duty and that's when he listens to me instead of his family’s voice.But sex moments can’t hold a marriage together.This is not a story about cruelty or violence.It’s about emotional neglect, quiet obedience, and the slow ache of realizing that love without choice will eventually break you.After seven years of loving him, I must decide: Remain the husband who is always second or finally choose myself.

war, blood, and betrayal carved him into something else. A legend. A killer. A mercenary whose name struck fear into both criminals and so-called heroes alike.But now, the world had changed. Lines blurred between right and wrong, between justice and vengeance. Should he step into the light, wear the mask of a hero, and fight for a cause greater than himself? Or should he embrace the darkness that had always been his home, a place where morality was just another illusion?“Don’t box me in with your shallow ideas of good and evil,” he muttered, his voice calm but edged with danger. “I do what I want, when I want.”The air was thick with tension as he moved like a shadow through the dimly lit room. The writer had no time to react—one moment, he was scribbling nonsense about legends and myths; the next, a cold barrel pressed against the back of his head.The figure smirked beneath his mask, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and menace.“You wanna write fiction?” he whispered. “Then let me show you how real legends are made.”A single gunshot shattered the silence.As the writer’s body slumped over the desk, the man holstered his weapon, stepping into the faint glow of a flickering neon light.“It’s that simple,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I’m Deathstroke.”