Chapter 3 of The Woman He Tried to Erase

The ground was icy under my fingertips. I couldn’t tell how long I’d been kneeling there, digging into the earth with bare hands—but mud and blood had encrusted my nails. My dog—my only loyal friend in that house of horrors—lay wrapped in a silk scarf beneath the ancient oak in the garden.

I pressed my forehead into the chilled soil, forcing back my sorrow. But this pain wasn’t just about losing my dog. It went deeper. This house had devoured me over six long years—stripping me of my freedom, my professional identity, my self-respect. And now, they’d claimed the only thing I still owned.

But they wouldn’t have it for long.

I wiped my hands on my tattered nightgown and slowly turned to face the mansion’s looming silhouette. My legs felt leaden with exhaustion.

I hadn’t expected human presence in those late hours. Then I heard it — a piercing, desperate scream echoing off the marble walls.

Frozen, I stepped forward—and found Bianca.

She lay collapsed on the floor, trembling. Her silk nightgown was shredded, ugly bruises littered her arms and face, and a dark stain marked her lip.

She gazed up, terror in her eyes. “Please—don’t hurt me again,” she sobbed.

My heart dropped.

Of course. That conniving snake.

Doors burst open. Heavy footsteps thundered in my direction. And there they were—Morgana and Bianca—emerging at the top of the staircase like vultures circling their prey. Morgana’s eyes shone with satisfaction, while Bianca wore a triumphant smirk: exactly what she’d hoped for.

Bianca cried out again, ensuring everyone heard. “She attacked me! I didn’t mean to fall for Rafael—I told her that—but she just…” She choked on a sob. “She snapped! She clawed at me—tried to kill me!”

Morgana didn’t hesitate. She stormed forward and slapped me so hard my vision swam.

“You jealous little harlot,” she hissed. “How dare you touch her?”

Before I could react, Bianca advanced, her face twisted in contempt. Then—she spat at me.

She grabbed a fistful of my hair, jerking my head back. “You never knew your place, did you?” she sneered. “You’ve always been nothing.”

Shoved between them, I became their plaything—tossed aside like a broken ragdoll. Morgana dug her nails into my arm, drawing blood, while Bianca laughed and shoved me to the marble.

Then—Rafael entered.

He glided in, his presence sucking the air from the hallway.

His gaze flicked first to Bianca—his mistress, his darling—and then to me. In a heartbeat, his expression hardened, rage simmering within.

“She attacked me!” Bianca wailed again, crawling forward.

Then she dropped her trump card.

“Rafael… I’m pregnant.”

The world convulsed.

“With twins,” she continued, glancing at me. “I was going to tell you tonight, but Amelia found out—and lost it.”

I opened my mouth to speak—but never got a word out.

Rafael moved. Fast.

His hand shot out and seized my throat, pinning me to the wall.

I gasped, claws scratching at his wrist, but he tightened his grip.

“You stay away from Bianca,” he growled. “She’s carrying my legacy—my twins. She gets respect. You? You serve her like the worthless thing you are.”

Darkness edged my vision as his words slammed into me. I’d endured his neglect, his frigid cruelty, all that time—but this… this was new.

A weak, bitter laugh escaped me. “You think I’d touch her? I wouldn’t soil my hands.”

Rafael’s hold constricted. “You deserve to die for this.”

From behind him, Bianca whimpered: “No… I forgive her. But I want her gone.”

I would’ve applauded if I hadn’t been drowning in pain.

He released me. I hit the floor with a gasp.

“Lock her in her room,” he instructed the men. “Until I decide her fate.”

They hauled me away. As I was dragged off, I heard Bianca’s soft, triumphant whisper:

“I always win.”

---

But I’m not one to be beaten. I’ve always had a plan.

The heavy lock clicked behind me. They believed I was trapped. They didn’t notice the tiny blade concealed in my robe’s hem.

Moments later, I picked the lock and stepped silently into the corridor. I’d been preparing for this—for months. I had allies, exit routes… and most dangerously, someone eager to see me removed.

The man who’d arranged my new identity and plane ticket—the same man tied to my father’s death.

No time for hesitation—the goal was escape. But then—I heard a voice.

Rafael.

Pressed against the cold wall, I strained to listen.

“She’s unraveling,” he whispered into his phone. “Give it a few more months—I’ll dispose of her like I did her father. His assets and empire have been transferred to me, all thanks to her marriage.”

Silence snapped me awake.

I peered around the corner—Rafael, casual and confident, oblivious that his empire teetered on collapse.

“No loose ends,” he continued into the phone. “Make sure she disappears cleanly, too.”

Clarity struck me like lightning.

He murdered my father.

All my illusions shattered. His guilt reached back years, masked as an accident—a tragedy never solved. But it wasn’t accident. It was murder.

He’d killed him…and forced me into marriage to conceal his crime. He stole my father’s empire, my future, my identity. My entire life was built on his lie.

Something inside me broke free.

I turned. Heart thundered. Vision blurred.

“Over there!”

They’d found me. Footsteps pounded behind.

No time to think. I bolted for the staircase.

Splash!

A wave of cold liquid drenched me—thick, stench of gasoline. My shoes slipped as the slick liquid soaked through me.

Laughter echoed from above—slow, triumphant.

I looked up. Bianca stood at the railing, an empty silver canister in hand, smirking.

“Oops,” she purred, tossing it aside. “Clumsy me.”

Panic seized me as I scrambled forward on the slippery marble, gas leaking into every pore.

“Run, rat,” Bianca taunted, descending the stairs in heels, bow in hand. “This is entertaining.”