Reborn Heiress Is Remarrying
Chapter 41: I Hate Myself

Chapter 41: I Hate Myself

Chapter 41: I Hate Myself

The moment Diane whispered those words—"Don’t hurt me, Gabriel."—a small, knowing smile curled at the edge of his lips.

He brushed his knuckles over her cheek, so gentle it was almost painful.

"I have to," he murmured.

Diane swallowed, her breath was so shallow.

"Why?"

Gabriel’s fingers slid down her arm, tracing her exposed skin with gentle slowness.

"Because, my love," he muttered, "pain is the only thing that reminds us we’re alive."

His lips hovered over hers, teasing, taunting.

Diane tried to turn her head away, but he caught her chin, forcing her to look at him.

"You’re shaking," he observed, feeling amused. "Is it fear, or something else?"

Diane’s pulse was wild. "You want me to admit that I like this?" she whispered.

Gabriel smiled again, dragging his fingers down her spine.

"I want you to admit the truth."

She clenched her jaw, refusing.

His hand suddenly wrapped around her throat—not squeezing, just holding, just enough to make her feel owned.

His lips brushed against her ear.

"Say it."

Diane’s breaths turned uneven. "I hate you."

Gabriel exhaled slowly, like he had expected that answer.

"I love to hate you too, Diane."

His thumb brushed over the scars on her shoulder, his touch burning.

"Do you know what I see when I look at these?"

She remained silent.

"I see a woman who has suffered," his tone was lowered, his lips grazed her neck.

"A woman who was broken. And now..." His fingers curled into her waist. "A woman who belongs to me."

Diane closed her eyes. "Don’t."

He pressed his mouth against her pulse, feeling it race beneath his lips.

"Don’t what?"

"Don’t make me believe you care."

Gabriel let out a soft laugh.

"Diane... I do care. Just not in the way you wish I did."

His hands moved lower, mapping her body like he was learning every inch of her all over again.

Diane clenched her fists, her breaths felt uneven.

"You’ll never let me go, will you?" she whispered.

Gabriel pulled back just enough to look into her eyes.

His gaze was dark, consuming. "No," he said simply. "Never."

Diane swallowed hard, searching his face. "Then tell me the truth."

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "About?"

"About us. About the past. If I was so wrong about everything, if you ever did love me, why did you never tell me?"

Gabriel was silent for a long moment, his jaw tightened.

Then, finally, he spoke.

"Because I was a coward."

Diane’s eyes widened slightly.

She had expected many things from him—denial, anger, mockery—but not this.

Gabriel sighed, brushing a loose curl from her face.

"I told myself I didn’t need to say it. That you already knew. But when I saw you slipping away, I convinced myself that letting you go was easier than trying to fix what we had."

His grip tightened around her waist.

"And that was my mistake. Because now, I can’t ever let you go."

Diane’s breath hitched.

"You chose to let me slip away, Gabriel. That was your choice."

"And now I’m making another one," he murmured. "To keep you."

His lips crashed against hers—forceful, demanding, filled with every ounce of hatred and need he had for her.

Diane gasped against his mouth, her fingers dug into his arms as he pulled her closer, pressing

Diane’s breath came in uneven gasps as Gabriel’s fingers ghosted over her scars, his touch both possessive and cruel.

His dark eyes never left hers, watching, waiting—devouring.

She swallowed hard, her body stiff beneath him.

"You say you regret not protecting me," she whispered in a trembling voice. "But you’re still hurting me, Gabriel."

"Hurting you?" His fingers followed the length of a particularly deep scar, pressing just enough to make her shiver.

"No, Diane. They hurt you." He leaned down, his lips were just a breath away from her ear.

"I’m the only one who can heal you."

Diane turned her face away, clenching her jaw.

"You don’t fix things, Gabriel. You break them."

He let out another chuckle, his hand slid to her throat—not squeezing, just holding, just enough to make her feel owned.

"And yet," he murmured, brushing his lips along the side of her neck, "you’re still here."

Her pulse pounded beneath his fingers. "Because you won’t let me go."

Gabriel sighed, almost mockingly.

"My dear, Diane. Letting you go was my first mistake. Do you really think I’d make it again?"

His lips touched her collarbone, slow, teasing.

"You think I do this just to punish you?" he whispered.

"No, my love. I do this because I hate that I still want you. I hate that after everything, I can’t erase you from my veins."

Diane closed her eyes tightly. "You don’t love me, Gabriel. You love to own me."

His grip on her tightened slightly. "Is there a difference?"

She sucked in a shaky breath. "Yes. Love is supposed to make you feel safe."

Gabriel pulled back, looking at her carefully.

Then, suddenly, his hand wrapped around her waist, lifting her effortlessly as he turned her to face the mirror on the wall.

"Then tell me," he stated, his lips gently touched her ear, "does this feel safe to you?"

Diane’s eyes widened as she saw them in the reflection—her bare skin pressed against his fully clothed body, his grip felt strong, and firm, impossible to break for someone shorter than him.

She swallowed. "No."

Gabriel smirked. "Good."

His fingers trailed up her spine, sending another shiver through her.

"Because safety makes people weak, Diane. And you? You were never meant to be weak."

Diane’s breath hitched as he pressed a long kiss to her shoulder, his hands mapping the curves of her waist.

"Tell me, Diane," he mumbled, "Do you hate this as much as you say you do?"

She should.

She should push him away, fight him, scream at him.

But her own body betrayed her, heat pooling deep in her stomach, his whole presence made her head spin.

"I hate you," she whispered just loud enough for him to hear.

Gabriel smiled again, his breath was so warm against her skin. "Liar."

His fingers slid lower, teasing her, taunting.

"Tell me again," he murmured. "Tell me how much you hate me."

Diane’s lips parted, her body started shaking.

But she couldn’t say a word.

Because the truth was far more terrifying.

She didn’t hate him.

She hated herself—for still craving the man who was trying to ruin her.