Reborn to Ruin Him

Honey, the company is finished. I don't want to drag you down with me. Let's get a divorce.

I stared at the man in front of me. He was putting on the performance of a lifetimethe heartbroken martyr, sacrificing his happiness for my safety.

I just wanted to puke.

I was reborn. Back to the exact moment my husband tried to force me into a divorce settlement.

And he was still acting.

In my last life, he went to prison for bankruptcy. I sold everythingmy inheritance, my jewelryjust to pay off his millions in debt. I raised our son on scraps for ten years, waiting for him.

And when he got out? I found out the truth.

He hadn't lost the money. He'd transferred over a hundred million dollars to his mistress and their bastard son.

Since the universe gave me a second chance, I'll sign this divorce paper.

Oh, I'll sign it.

But not before I take back everything you owe me. With interest.

Chapter 1

"Genevieve, please. Just sign the papers. The company is bleeding out. If the cash flow dries up, I'm done for."

"I can't let this destroy you and Jonah. Let's just end it legally. If the ship goes down, I want to be the only one on it."

Spencer's voice was a constant, irritating drone. Like background static or a fly you couldn't swat away.

I slowly opened my eyes. The light in the room felt too sharp, too artificial.

He glanced at me, caught the movement, and immediately ramped up the emotional intensity.

"I know this is killing you. It's killing me too, Gen. But a divorce is the only way to build a firewall around you. We have a son. I can't let Jonah grow up with a bankrupt father and a mountain of debt on his back."

I stared at him.

I focused on the face in front of me. It was smooth. Unlined. The skin around his eyes was tight, lacking the heavy bags and gray undertones I remembered.

He looked twenty years younger than the face in my nightmares.

The realization hit me like a physical blow to the chest, knocking the wind out of me.

I was back. I was actually back.

My mind raced, flipping through the catalog of memories from my previous life. He had pulled the divorce card twice.

The first time was right after Jonah was born. He came home with a grim expression and a divorce agreement, begging me to sign.

He told me he was preparing for a massive, "all-in" investment. A gamble.

"If this fails," he had said, gripping my hands, "I'll have nothing. I can't watch you and the baby suffer."

He proposed transferring the house into my name to "save" it, while he mortgaged every other asset he had to fund the project.

It was a masterclass in manipulation.

Back then, I was young. I was naive. I was completely taken in by his self-sacrificing hero act.

I was so moved that I stopped him. I told him he didn't need to leverage his assets.

I revealed the one thing I had kept privatethe substantial insurance payout and inheritance I received after my parents' accident.

That money was supposed to be my safety net. It was more than enough to keep Jonah and me comfortable for life.

Chapter 2

He played the part perfectly. Tears. Trembling hands.

He took the money.

And because he was a "business genius," it worked.

The tiny studio mushroomed into a corporate empire. We traded our humble apartment for a sprawling estate that echoed when you walked.

Spencer became a ghost.

I played the dutiful wife. I kept the house silent. I made myself small so I wouldn't be a burden to the great man building our future.

Ten years later.

The papers were in front of me again.

"The company is dead," he said. His voice was flat.

Hed flown too close to the sun. Blind expansion. Projects imploding one after another.

Prison was coming. The compensation demands were astronomical.

"I need to transfer everything to you," he said, his eyes pleading. "Before the hammer drops. If they come for the money, let them take me. You and the boy need to be safe."

Ice flooded my veins. My chest tightened until I couldn't breathe.

"How much?" I choked out.

"Conservatively? Ten million. Maybe more."

Jonah was only ten. He worshipped his father. Spencer was his hero.

The thought of shattering his world made me nauseous. I couldn't let his father rot in a cell. I couldn't let our home turn to ash.

I didn't sleep. I stared at the ceiling until my eyes burned.

Then I did it.

The death benefits from my parents. The inheritance Id never touched. The insurance policies they bought to keep me safe.

I liquidated it all. Nearly ten million dollars.

I handed it to him.

"Pay them."

It wasn't enough.

The estate went. The luxury cars. My name on property deeds. Gone.

I signed papers until my hand cramped. I didn't read them. I just wanted to save him.

A month later, the handcuffs clicked shut anyway.

That's when the truth hit me.

The ten million? A drop in the ocean.

The real debt was in the billions. Penalties. Breach of contract. The numbers on the page blurred into a nightmare.

Mr. Brooks wouldn't look me in the eye.

"Spencer expanded too aggressively," was all the lawyer said. "Serious white-collar crimes."

Then he shut his briefcase.

I aged a decade in a single night.

Jonah stopped smiling. He grew up the second the police took his father away.

I cried until I was dry heaving on the bathroom floor. Then I stood up and took stock of the wreckage.

The mansion was gone. The money was gone.

All I had left was the old three-bedroom apartment my parents left me.

My bank account balance? A few thousand dollars.

Jonah was in middle school. He needed a future. High school. College. It all cost money I didn't have.

I sold the last thing I ownedmy parents' apartment.

We moved into a cramped, damp two-bedroom rental near his school.

I tried to visit Spencer in prison.

Every request was denied.

I told myself it was his pride. He was ashamed to see me like this.

I didn't force it.

I was such an idiot.

Chapter 3

Ten years later.

Jonah finally graduated.

He was my pride. My anchor.

He had gone from a pampered heir to a debt-ridden outcast overnight, but he never crumbled. He channeled his anger into books. He clawed his way to the top of his class at a prestigious university.

I thought we had finally made it. I thought the nightmare was over.

I was wrong.

Every major company in the city rejected his application. Not because he wasn't qualified.

Because he was blacklisted.

I dug around. I asked favors I didn't have. And then I found the truth. It was a rot that had been festering for a decade.

Spencer had a secret.

A mistress. A bastard son.

When he saw the end coming for his company, he didn't liquidate his assets to pay his creditors. He didn't sell everything to save his reputation.

He sold everything to secure her future.

He tricked me. He gaslit me into selling my inheritance, my safety net, to pay off "debts" that he never intended to pay. He took my money to buy them a golden parachute.

Her name was Kimberly. The son was Austin.

Austin wasn't book-smart. He was failing school while Jonah was studying by candlelight.

But Spencer had taken Austin to every business meeting. He had groomed him. Before prison, Spencer handed Austin over to his most loyal lieutenants.

While Jonah and I were eating scraps, Austin was building an empire on my money.

Now, Austin was a construction tycoon. And Kimberly knew exactly who we were.

She gave the order. No one hires the legitimate son.

I tried to find Austin. I wanted to scream in his face. I couldn't even get past the lobby security.

Then, Spencer was released.

He didn't come to see us. He didn't call.

He went straight to the airport and vanished overseas.

A week later, a package arrived from Mr. Brooks. A divorce agreement. And a letter.

It was a masterpiece of narcissism.

He wrote that he felt guilty, sure. But he owed them more.

He claimed his parents forced him to marry me for my money. He claimed Kimberly was the love of his life, discovered too late. She had raised his child in the shadows.

I had to save them, he wrote. I couldn't leave them with nothing.

So he stole from me.

The last paragraph made my blood run cold.

Kimberly and Austin suffered for years. You lived like a princess for decades, Genevieve. The universe has been kind enough to you. You have no right to blame me.

My vision blurred. A red haze of pure, unadulterated rage.

I needed to find him. I needed to tear him apart.

I ran out of the apartment. I didn't check the traffic light. I didn't look left.

Tires screeched.

A wall of metal.

Impact.

Physics took over. My body wasn't a body anymore; it was a projectile.

The sound of ribs snapping. The wet crunch of soft tissue against steel.

Gravity failed. I was airborne.

The world spun in a violent, sickening kaleidoscope.

Then the asphalt rushed up to meet me.

Skull against pavement.

Darkness.

Chapter 4

Spencer saw my silence and mistook it for hesitation. He let out a low, tragic sigh.

He grabbed my hand. His palms were sweaty.

"I know you love me, Genevieve. But the company... I have to protect you and Jonah. If we divorce now, the creditors can't touch you. I'll take the fall alone. It's the only way."

Right. The "Heroic Sacrifice" play.

I knew exactly what this was.

This was the second timeline. The script had flipped.

His assets were seconds away from being frozen. Prison was inevitable.

He didn't actually want a divorce. He wanted me to panic.

He wanted me to scream, "No! I'll save you!" and empty my bank accounts so he could funnel my money to Kimberly and Austin before the feds showed up.

Nice try, Spencer.

I mentally adjusted my facial muscles.

Cue the waterworks.

I looked up at him, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. I squeezed his hand back. Hard.

"Honey, say no more. I understand completely."

I took a shaky breath.

"Jonah is growing up. He needs stability. The household needs money. You're right. I agree. Let's get a divorce."

Spencer froze.

It was like watching a computer glitch. The mask of deep, soulful agony cracked. His jaw literally went slack.

He stared at me.

This wasn't in the script. I was supposed to be the hysterical, supportive wife. I was supposed to beg to pay his debts.

A long, awkward silence stretched between us.

Finally, he let out a dry, nervous cough.

"I... well, I only suggested it as a last resort. It's different this time. We need cash. Liquidity. Actually, if we had enough capital, the crisis might just... go away."

He tightened his grip on my hand. It was starting to hurt. He dialed the "loving husband" gaze up to eleven.

"You know I can't bear to leave you, Gen. I'm just short on cash. If we had the money, we wouldn't have to separate."

I nodded frantically, playing the part of the devoted idiot.

"I get it, Spencer. You're doing this for us. Don't worry. Once you pay off the debts and serve your time, I'll marry you again. I'll wait for you forever."

I didn't give him a chance to respond.

I grabbed the divorce agreement.

I uncapped the pen.

Scribble-scribble.

Signed.

I slammed the pen down.

Spencer looked at the signature like it was a pipe bomb. His eyes were bulging.

Then, he started crying. Actual, frustrated tears.

"I don't want this! I really don't want to lose you, Genevieve! But the company... the money..."

He looked at me, his eyes searching mine with meaningful desperation.

"I know you don't want to leave me either. Unless... is there any chance you could invest something? Just a little? Then we wouldn't have to part ways. The company could survive."

Gotcha.

I ignored the question entirely.

I shoved the signed papers into his chest.

Then I burst into loud, theatrical sobs.

"I can't believe it! Even at a time like this, when you owe so much money, you're only thinking of me and Jonah!"

"It's okay, honey! We'll have a hard life, but we'll survive! Don't worry about us. I'll raise Jonah well. And when you get out of prison, I'll make sure he puts you in a nice nursing home!"

Chapter 5

He opened his mouth to spin another lie, but I cut him off.

"Oh, Spencer! Quick question. Do we need to schedule a meeting to sign the divorce papers? I should call the lawyer now. How about tomorrow at 9 AM? We can't delay. If the feds raid your office tomorrow afternoon, we might be stuck together legally. That would be a disaster for your plan to save me."

I didn't let him breathe. I leaned in, eyes wide with innocent greed.

"And about protecting my assets... based on your current valuation, you're sitting on over fifty million dollars in cash, right? Plus the five vacation homes and the ten exotic cars. Let's go transfer the titles to my name today. Right now. Before the bank freezes them."

Spencer started to sweat. He stammered, looking like a deer in headlights.

"Well, I... I need those assets for... leverage. To negotiate. Let's talk about the transfer later."

He grabbed his jacket, mumbled an excuse about an emergency meeting, and practically ran out the door.

He was running away from his own bluff.

I didn't care. I booked the appointment at the courthouse anyway. The confirmation text pinged his phone a second later.

The next morning, I stood at the entrance of the courthouse.

Spencer was a no-show.

I called him. Straight to voicemail.

I called again. Nothing.

He was ghosting me on our divorce day.

Fine. Two can play at this game.

I downloaded an auto-dialer app. I set it to "Nuclear." Sixty calls an hour. One every minute.

His phone would be vibrating so hard it would fall off the table.

Finally, he picked up.

"I'm in a meeting!" He hissed, his voice low and tight. "I can't come today. Just go home, Genevieve."

I immediately turned on the panic.

"How can I go home? You said the company is imploding! I checked the news, Spencer! People are talking! We have to divorce immediately! I won't be able to sleep until I know the creditors can't take Jonah's college fund!"

He choked on his own saliva.

"It's... it's not that urgent. I'm handling it. Just give me some time. Maybe there's a way to save the marriage."

I pressed harder.

"When? Give me a time. The court calendar is packed, I need to get on the docket."

Silence on the other end.

He was calculating. He realized the divorce angle wasn't working to get my money fast enough. He needed to pivot.

"Genevieve," he said slowly, "I think I was being impulsive. I can't live without you. In a crisis like this, I need my wife. I can't imagine life without you. By the way... don't you have a significant amount of savings? Maybe if you..."

I interrupted him with a loud, wailing sob.

"I can't live without you either! If it were just me, I'd go down with the ship! I'd live in a cardboard box with you! But we have Jonah! What about our son? I have to be strong! I have to divorce you to save our child!"

"Don't worry, honey! Even if we're divorced, I'll still come over every day! I'll never leave your side! I just need that piece of paper to protect the boy!"

He started coughing violently, like he'd swallowed a bug.

I had used his own logic to checkmate him. He couldn't ask for money without breaking his "self-sacrificing father" character.

"I... someone is calling me," he wheezed. "Go home. Don't wait for me. I'll... I'll let you know when."

Click.

He hung up before I could "agree" with him any more.

Chapter 6

He didn't come home that night. His phone went straight to voicemail.

I didn't panic. I didn't pace the floor.

I just prepared to re-up my robocall subscription for the next morning.

But before I could unleash digital hell, my mother-in-law beat me to the punch.

Margaret called at the crack of dawn.

"Genevieve! It's a disaster! The police... they took Spencer away!"

Her voice was pitched at a hysterical screech, but the tempo was wrong. It was too steady. Too rehearsed.

She sounded like she was reading from a script titled "Panic: Take One."

I saw through it instantly.

"When did they take him?" I asked, keeping my voice steady. "Why? What are the charges?"

She stumbled. Clearly, she hadn't prepared a backstory for the "crime."

"I... I don't know the details! I think he said something about the company. That snake, Tony... his partner? He found a loophole in the contract. He set Spencer up! He sold him out!"

Then came the pivot. The real reason for the call.

"Genevieve, do you have liquid cash? I heard he needs millions for... damages. Or bail. Can you transfer some money to me right now? You shouldn't show your face at the station. The press might be there. Just send the money to Mom. I'll handle the police."

Right. Because that's how the legal system works. You Venmo your mother-in-law to post bail.

I almost laughed out loud at the sheer absurdity of it.

But I stayed in character.

"Mom, don't worry! I have some savings. I'll transfer it to you immediately."

I hung up.

I didn't open my banking app. I grabbed my keys and drove straight to the police precinct.

I walked up to the front desk, face pale, hands trembling.

"My husband is Spencer... the Chairman of the Sterling Group. I heard his company is in trouble. A rival firm might have framed him. I was told he was arrested this morning. Please... I need to see him."

The officer looked at me with pity. He nodded and started typing.

He made a few calls. He checked the booking logs. He checked the holding cells.

He frowned.

"Ma'am, we have no record of a Spencer being processed today. No one from the Sterling Group."

They didn't stop there. They called the business partner Margaret had blamed.

Tony showed up ten minutes later. He looked like he'd just rolled out of bed, confused and annoyed.

"Arrested? Me calling the cops on Spencer?" Tony looked at the officer like he was insane. "I haven't even been to the office yet. Wait."

Tony pulled out his phone. He dialed a number I didn't recognize.

He put it on speaker.

The line rang twice.

"Yo, bro," Spencer's voice grogged out of the speaker. It was thick with sleep. "What's up? It's early. I'm still in bed. I'll be at the office later."

The silence in the precinct was deafening.

The officer, Tony, and the desk sergeant all turned to look at me.

The pity was gone.

"Ma'am," the officer barked, his face darkening. "Do you know that filing a false police report is a crime? You're wasting resources!"

Showtime.

My knees buckled. I let the tears explode.

"I... I didn't know!" I wailed, burying my face in my hands. "My mother-in-law called me screaming! She said he was arrested! She asked me for bail money! I was so scared... I just came straight here!"

I pulled out my phone, hands shaking violently for effect.

"I'll call her! I'll ask her right now!"

I dialed Margaret.

"Mom?" I sobbed into the receiver. "I'm at the police station. I'm trying to find Spencer, but they say he's not here..."

There was a gasp on the other end.

"You're where?"

"The police station! I wanted to help!"

Click.

She hung up.

Twenty minutes later, the doors to the precinct burst open.

Margaret and Spencer rushed in, looking like they wanted to kill me.

Chapter 7

Margaret saw me and lunged.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" she shrieked, ignoring the officers staring at her. "I told you to keep your mouth shut! I was making a joke! Did you actually take it seriously? Are you a moron?"

Spencer stood beside her, pinching the bridge of his nose. He looked at me with a mix of disappointment and exhaustion.

"My mother says one thing, and you believe it instantly? Why didn't you verify it with me first? You dragged Tony down here for nothing. Do you have any idea how embarrassing this is?"

I let the tears flow.

"I didn't know!" I sobbed, pitching my voice to be heard by every cop in the room. "Mom said you were taken away! She demanded bail money! I couldn't just wire her cash without knowing if you were safe. I had to ask the police!"

I grabbed his lapels, looking up at him with desperate, wide eyes.

"Honey, what is actually going on? When are we going to sign the divorce papers? And remember you said you needed to transfer all your assets to me to protect them? The five vacation homes? The exotic cars? When are we doing that?"

Spencer turned pale.

He opened his mouth to shut me up, but Margaret was faster.

"Officer!" she chirped, stepping in front of us. "This is all on me. My son's phone was off. He told me the company was in trouble, and I just assumed the worst. I'm just a worried mother who watches too many crime shows."

She flashed a sickly sweet, ingratiating smile.

"It's just a big family misunderstanding. We can go now, right?"

We walked out of the precinct.

The moment the doors closed behind us, Spencer turned on me, his face twisting with rage.

I didn't let him speak. I struck first.

"Mom said you were kidnapped! I was terrified! I called the police to save you! So you were playing me the whole time? Was this a prank?"

My voice was loud. Accusatory.

He deflated. He couldn't afford to be angry. He needed me compliant.

"I wasn't lying, Gen," he said, forcing his voice into a soothing register. "I didn't lie about the money. The crisis is real. You told me once that your parents left you a significant inheritance. And the insurance payouts."

He gripped my shoulders.

"The project has stalled. I need capital to jumpstart it. If I have cash, I can save the company."

"How much?" I asked, keeping my face blank.

"As much as you have. Everything. You have at least five million sitting there, right? Plus the real estate. Sell it. Cash out the policies. I need it fast, Genevieve. I can't wait."

I looked at him.

He was desperate. He was greedy. And he was stupid.

"Okay," I said. "Send me the account number. I'll transfer it tomorrow."

He pulled out his phone and texted me a string of digits.

Then he added, "It's Mom's account."

I raised an eyebrow.

"My accounts are being monitored by the SEC," he lied smoothly. "You don't understand corporate finance. Just send it to Mom. It's safer."

"Got it."

The next morning, I went to the bank.

I made the transfer, just like I promised.

But I didn't send five million.

I sent twenty thousand dollars.

I took a screenshot of the receipt and texted it to him.

His call came through ten seconds later.

"Genevieve!" He was screaming. "What is this? Why is it so little?"

Chapter 8

"My account has a daily transfer cap," I said, keeping my voice flat. "I'll send the rest tomorrow. Why don't you swing by the house? We need to go over the property deeds before the transfer anyway."

Spencer showed up the next morning, vibrating with greed.

I didn't hand him a check.

I slid a single sheet of paper across the coffee table.

He picked it up.

The color drained from his face. It was instantaneous, like someone had pulled a plug.

"You... you investigated me?"

I leaned back into the sofa cushions, occupying the space with absolute stillness.

"Investigate you? Don't flatter yourself. Did you forget? When we bought that condo for Margaret, I set up her online banking. I have the password."

I held his gaze. I didn't blink.

"I wired twenty thousand yesterday. I logged in to check if she received it. But the money didn't stay there. It was siphoned out instantly. Recipient: Kimberly. Who is she, Spencer?"

Spencer swallowed. The sound was audible in the quiet room.

"She's... she's a vendor. A supplier. It's an off-the-books payment. To grease the wheels for the project."

He was still lying.

I reached for a folder and dropped a stack of papers onto the table.

They landed with a heavy, deliberate thud.

"I hired a private investigator, Spencer. Kimberly lives at 23 Kingswood Estate. A luxury residence. The mortgage documents list you as the guarantor."

I watched the air leave his lungs.

"Let's look at the options. Either you're sleeping with her, which is adultery. Or you're buying houses with company funds, which is embezzlement. Which charge do you want to confess to?"

"You can deny it. But I'll just have the P.I. pull the security footage from the gated community."

I leaned forward slightly. Just an inch. The pressure in the room spiked.

"And don't forget, I have your banking passwords too. I never checked before because I trusted you. But this morning? I downloaded ten years of transaction history. If I hand this to a forensic accountant, what will they find?"

It was a bluff. All of it.

There was no investigator. No downloaded logs.

I was just weaponizing the memories of a dead woman.

But he didn't know that.

Sweat broke out on his forehead, gathering in heavy droplets.

"Genevieve... what is this? Why? Did someone talk to you?"

I shrugged. A gesture of calculated indifference.

"So her name is Kimberly. What is she to you?"

He stayed silent, his jaw working.

"Fine," I said, checking my watch. "It doesn't matter. I've already instructed Mr. Brooks to file a suit to recover my twenty thousand. Once the subpoena drops, he'll trace every cent. He'll find every dollar you funneled to her."

"I'll make it public. You won't just lose the money. You'll lose everything."

Thud.

Spencer hit the floor.

He fell to his knees, his composure shattering completely.

His eyes were red, wet with panic. He reached out, grabbing the hem of my dress like a beggar.

"She's not a vendor! She's my first love! Okay? I just saw how hard her life was! She never married! I pitied her! I just wanted to help her! There's nothing going on! You have to believe me! My heart is with you!"

Chapter 9

I inhaled sharply. The oxygen tasted like rust.

Hatred wasn't an abstract concept anymore. It was a physical weight in my chest, expanding, pressing against my ribs until they creaked.

"So the loan? The begging? It was just a funnel," I said. My voice sounded hollow, like it was coming from someone else. "The company is sinking. You didn't want to save it. You wanted to drain me dry so she could walk away clean."

I looked at him.

"What about me, Spencer? What about Jonah? Did we even exist in your plan?"

He looked up. His hands were trembling, vibrating with a fine, uncontrollable tremor.

"I only sent twenty thousand. How can you say I didn't think of you? I would never abandon my family."

He was still lying. Even now.

I forced a smile. It felt tight. unnatural.

"The P.I. told me about the boy. Austin. He's yours, isn't he?"

Spencer froze.

"He's at the prep school downtown. St. George's Prep, right? I'm thinking of sending a few... associates to pick him up. A little field trip to the clinic. Once we have the paternity results, the fraud charges will stick like superglue."

He stared at me.

The confusion in his eyes was genuine.

He didn't know this Genevieve.

He knew the trophy wife. The heiress. The woman who believed the sky was purple if he said so.

To him, I was a wallet with a pulse. A resource to be mined.

He stood up. His jaw clenched so hard I heard his teeth grind. His eyes were rimmed with red.

"That is kidnapping. It is a felony. No court will admit evidence obtained under duress."

"Fine."

I spread my hands.

"Then I'll just sue Kimberly directly. I'll drag her through civil court until she breaks. The law has plenty of teeth for mistresses."

The fight left him.

He collapsed. Back on his knees.

"Don't touch her. Please."

He reached for me again, sobbing.

"I haven't wronged you! Austin is mine, yes. But she had him before we married! I didn't know he existed! I swear, Genevieve! Once the company is stable, I'll cut them off! I'll never see him again!"

"Once the company is stable?"

I let out a laugh. It was a sharp, jagged sound.

"What about before? The P.I. sent me the photos. Designer clothes. Luxury watches. Private school tuition. That wasn't charity, Spencer. That was our money. You've been siphoning our marital assets for a decade."

"She is a thief. She stole my property. And I'm going to take it back."

He started to wail. A pathetic, high-pitched sound.

"I owed her! You grew up in a palace! You never knew hunger! Kimberly suffered every day! She raised my son in secret! I owed her a life!"

He looked up, tears streaming down his face, desperate and delusional.

"Just... do it for the child? Please? Let him call you Godmother. We can be a family. We can"

My hand moved before I made the decision.

Slap.

The sound was like a gunshot in the small room.

"That's for the lies."

Slap.

His head snapped to the side.

"That's for the bankruptcy."

Slap.

"That's for the ten years of poverty."

Slap.

"That's for the car."

My palm burned. A stinging, electric heat that traveled up my wrist.

I hit him again. And again.

I wasn't just hitting a man. I was exorcising a ghost.

I hit him until the vibration in my bones turned into a dull ache.

I hit him until my arm felt like lead. Until the nerves in my fingers went dead.

I hit him until I physically couldn't lift my arm anymore.

Chapter 10