The Stranger I Married-Chapter 38: To ruin her

Ella’s heart thudded painfully against her ribs, the weight of Nicholas’s gaze pinning her in place.

He was too close.

Too calm.

Too dangerous.

Her breath caught as his dark eyes dragged over her ruined appearance—her wine-soaked hair, the tear-streaked smudges on her face, the damp shirt clinging to her skin. Every inch of her screamed humiliation, but Nicholas didn’t look at her with pity.

No.

He looked at her like he wanted to burn the whole damn city down.

"Ella..." His voice was quieter this time, softer—but there was no mistaking the steel beneath it. "Who did this to you?"

She squeezed her eyes shut, swallowing the lump rising in her throat.

Don’t cry again.

She’d wasted enough tears today.

"It’s not important," she whispered.

Nicholas’s fingers brushed against her jaw—so gentle it made her ache. He tilted her chin up, forcing her to look at him.

"It is to me."

Her heart squeezed painfully.

God, he was dangerous like this—quiet and composed, but she could feel the storm crackling beneath his skin. If she told him... if she gave him names... there would be no going back.

He would destroy Clara

He would destroy Adrian.

He would burn down everything they’d ever touched.

And as much as she hated them—as much as she wanted to see them pay—she couldn’t let Nicholas fight her battles.

Not this time.

Not for her.

"I can handle it," she whispered, forcing herself to meet his gaze.

Nicholas’s eyes flickered—something dark and unreadable flashing behind them.

"Can you?"

Ella’s stomach clenched.

No.

Not really.

But she would rather bleed out on the floor than admit that to him.

"I’m not your problem, Nicholas."

His jaw ticked.

For a moment, she thought he might let it go—might walk away and leave her to lick her wounds in peace.

But then...

He leaned in closer.

Too close.

Close enough that she could feel his breath ghosting over her lips.

Close enough that her heart started pounding for an entirely different reason.

"You’ve been mine from the moment you walked through that door, dolcezza." His voice was a low rasp, wrapping around her like smoke. "Whether you like it or not."

Ella’s breath caught, her pulse hammering against her throat.

She hated how easily he unraveled her.

How a single word from him could make her knees weak.

Dolcezza.

Sweetness.

She hated how badly she wanted to believe him.

Her fingers curled into fists in her lap, nails digging into her palms.

"I don’t want to belong to anyone."

Nicholas’s lips curved—dark, dangerous.

"Liar."

Ella’s stomach twisted.

Because he was right.

She was a liar.

She wanted to belong to him.

Even if it would ruin her.

Even if he would ruin her.

Nicholas’s thumb brushed against her bottom lip—slow, teasing—like he was testing how much she could take before she broke.

Her breath stuttered.

"You think I’m going to let them get away with this?" he murmured, eyes locked on hers.

Ella’s heart clenched.

"I don’t need you to fight my battles."

His smirk sharpened.

"But you want me to."

Her face burned.

She hated him.

She hated how easily he saw through her.

How he always found the cracks in her armor.

Nicholas leaned in until their noses brushed, his lips just barely grazing hers.

"You want me to ruin them for you, don’t you?"

Ella’s breath caught in her throat.

Her body betrayed her—leaning into him, craving the heat of him.

She hated how badly she wanted him.

"Say it," Nicholas murmured, his thumb dragging over her lip again. "Say the word, dolcezza, and I’ll make them disappear."

Ella’s heart slammed against her ribs.

God, she wanted to.

She wanted to give in.

To let him be the monster she knew he was.

But if she let him fight this battle for her... she would never be able to claw her way back out of his shadow.

Her voice was barely a whisper.

"No."

Nicholas’s eyes flicked to her lips.

His smirk faded.

Slowly, he leaned back—just enough to put space between them, but not nearly enough to let her breathe.

"Brave little thing," he murmured.

Ella’s pulse skittered.

His hand fell away from her face, leaving her cold.

Nicholas stood slowly—towering over her like a dark god.

"You want to fight your own battles?" His voice was calm, but there was something lethal simmering just beneath the surface. "Fine."

He turned toward the door, shrugging off his jacket.

"But if anyone lays another finger on you, Ella..." He glanced back at her, his eyes burning into hers.

"I’ll burn this whole city to the ground."

Ella’s throat closed.

She should tell him to leave it alone.

To forget what happened.

But some small, twisted part of her wanted to see what Nicholas would do if she let him off his leash.

Ella didn’t sleep that night.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Clara’s smug face.

Adrian’s cold blue eyes.

Her own reflection—humiliated, broken.

By morning, the anger had settled deep in her chest—sharp and bitter.

She wouldn’t let them win.

Not this time.

When she finally emerged from her room, Nicholas was gone.

A single envelope waited for her on the kitchen counter.

Inside was a thick wad of cash.

No note.

No explanation.

Just the silent reminder that Nicholas always knew exactly what she needed—even when she hated him for it.

Ella’s fingers curled around the money, her heart twisting painfully.

She didn’t want his pity.

She didn’t want his charity.

But if she was going to fight her own battles...

She needed to start somewhere.

By midday, she had found a job.

It wasn’t glamorous.

A small coffee shop tucked away in the city.

Minimum wage.

Long hours.

But it was hers.

Her victory.

Even if the bitter taste of humiliation still lingered on her tongue.

Even if Nicholas’s voice still echoed in her head.

You’ve been mine from the moment you walked through that door.

Ella clenched her fists, forcing the memory away.

She wasn’t his.

Not yet.

When Nicholas returned that night, she was waiting for him.

Perched on the edge of the sofa, her heart in her throat.

He barely glanced at her as he shrugged out of his jacket, pouring himself a glass of whiskey.

Ella’s pulse hammered.

"I got a job."

Nicholas stilled.

His dark eyes flicked toward her, unreadable.

He took a slow sip of his drink.

Then—

"Good."

Ella’s stomach twisted.

That was it?

No teasing.

No smug smirk.

Just... good.

She hated how badly she wanted him to care.

Her hands clenched in her lap.

"I don’t need your money."

Nicholas’s lips curved—just the barest hint of amusement.

"Liar."

Ella’s heart stumbled.

He crossed the room slowly, stopping in front of her.

His fingers tipped her chin up—forcing her to meet his gaze.

"You can fight your own battles, dolcezza." His voice was low, dangerous. "But you’ll always need me to clean up the mess."

Ella’s breath caught.

She hated him.

She hated him so much.

Because he was right.

And he knew it.

Nicholas’s thumb traced along her jaw—soft, possessive.

"You’ll come to me eventually," he murmured. "They always do."

Ella’s heart slammed against her ribs.

Her breath caught painfully in her throat.

"Go to hell, Nicholas."

His smirk sharpened.

"I’m already there, baby."

His hand fell away—leaving her cold.

Nicholas turned without another word, disappearing into his room.

Ella sat frozen on the sofa—her pulse pounding in her ears.

Her body still ached from the humiliation of the day.

But somewhere deep inside—buried beneath all the shame and anger—was the sick, dangerous truth.

She didn’t want Nicholas to save her.

She wanted him to ruin her.

And God help her...

She knew he would.