His After The Heartbreak (BL)-Chapter 148: My Past Is Not Yours To Own

Chapter- 148 My Past is Not Yours to Own

Beatrice POV

I stammered.

No words came out of my mouth. Nothing. My lips moved, but no sound followed. What was I even supposed to say? What answer was I expected to give to a question that stupid?

His voice rang out again, sharp and loud.

"Huh?" I muttered, blinking at him with confusion.

"Are you that sex-starved?" he repeated, raising his voice even more. "Yes, I'm going to repeat it, because a question like that deserves to be said twice!"

He threw his hands in the air. "What kind of woman kicks off with a man she just met—less than 24 hours? What the actual hell, Beatrice? Do you not know the risks? The shame? The dangers?"

Oh, perfect. Now he was giving me a sermon.

I rolled my eyes, biting the inside of my cheek to stop myself from screaming. I wasn't about to let him stand there and lecture me like I was his child or his property. I wasn't his anything anymore.

I stayed calm. At least on the outside.

"Well," I said, lifting my chin slightly, "congratulations, Declan. You've officially turned into a pastor."

He blinked, confused for a moment.

"I'm not here for a lecture," I added, sharper this time. "I'm explaining everything because I thought you wanted answers. But since you clearly don't, you can take your lecture and shove it down your new wife's ass."

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His expression shifted.

He stared at me like I had suddenly grown horns and wings.

I didn't care.

"You're talking about me 'rushing things'?" I scoffed. "Coming from the same man who slept with a girl on the first night and married her a month later? Please. You've got no right to talk."

His jaw clenched. I could see it. He was boiling on the inside.

"You never learn, Beatrice," he said quietly, shaking his head. "And I don't think you ever will."

I laughed bitterly under my breath, but before I could say anything else, he stepped closer.

"I'm trying to help you understand why that was a stupid decision. Yet you bring up my wife?" he said, his voice cold.

"I'm sorry," I said quickly, sensing where this was going. "I didn't mean—"

But it was too late.

He grabbed my wrist again and yanked me toward him. His hand moved like lightning, fingers closing around my neck—again.

No.

Not again.

I hadn't even healed from the last time. My throat still hurt. My voice still cracked when I tried to speak too loud. And here he was, choking me again just because I spoke back.

I gasped, but he let go before I could fall. My hands flew to my throat as I coughed, stepping back from him in fear.

Then, with a twisted smirk on his face, he asked—

"So how long did it take before you slept with this so-called man?"

I stared at him, blinking in disbelief.

"What?" I whispered.

"Don't act like you didn't hear me," he said. "Answer the question."

I laughed. A bitter, tired laugh.

"Why does my sex life suddenly concern you, Declan?" I asked, folding my arms, even though they were trembling. "You're not my husband. You don't get to know that."

He smirked again, leaning closer. "Don't forget, we were once married. So there's absolutely nothing special about that sex life of yours."

He said it like it was a joke. Like I was trash. Like I was still under his control.

I snapped.

"That's the point, Declan! We were married. Past tense. So whatever I do now—whoever I sleep with or talk to—has nothing to do with you anymore!"

My voice shook. My throat ached. But I didn't stop.

"You don't own me. You don't control me. And you damn sure don't get to judge me for trying to be happy—something you never let me be!"

He stared at me, his face unreadable now.

The room went quiet for a moment.

Then he stepped back.

"It seems like you want to go find Tyler by yourself," he said darkly. "Because clearly, you're playing games. Or maybe you didn't hear me the first time—I said I need every detail. Every single one."

He moved closer again, just enough to make me feel the heat from his breath.

"So... are you done wasting my time?"

The moment he said those words to me, it felt like cold water splashed on my face.

My mind snapped back to reality.

I blinked. My heart beat faster, and my hands started shaking again. It finally sank in—if this man walks out on me now, if he gives up on helping me find Tyler... then I'm finished.

I won't find my son. I won't even know where to start. I'll be lost. Alone.

And I cannot survive that.

I swallowed hard and quietly cleared my throat. "Beatrice, if you know what's good for you, you better cooperate," I said to myself. "No backtalk. No attitude. Just speak."

"Since that's what you want to know about," I said out loud, forcing myself to sound calm, "then fine. No problem. I'll tell you."

He nodded, eyes fixed on me like a hawk circling prey. He looked satisfied, like he had finally broken me down.

"Start talking," he said coldly.

I hesitated. My throat tightened. My body didn't want to move. But I forced myself to sit up straighter and take in a deep breath.

God, what kind of life is this?

Imagine me, sitting in front of my ex-husband—the same man who nearly choked the life out of me hours ago—about to have a full-on conversation about... my sex life.

It was sick.

It was humiliating.

But at this point, I had no choice. I needed him to help me find Tyler. That was all that mattered.

I cleared my throat again, nervous. My palms were sweaty.

"So... your question was... when we had sex, right?"

He didn't answer. He just kept staring.

I looked down at the floor.

"It happened 24 hours after we met," I said quietly.