Reborn Heiress Is Remarrying
Chapter 61: The End Of The Perfect Richard

Chapter 61: The End Of The Perfect Richard

Chapter 61: The End The Perfect Richard

The first strike of the belt sliced through the air before cracking against Diane’s back.

Pain exploded through her skin, and she bit down hard on her lip, refusing to give Richard the satisfaction of hearing her scream.

’Not again.’

Another strike. Then another.

Her body jerked, her wrists raw from the tight bindings.

’Is this why I was reborn? To suffer again?’

Richard let out a breathless chuckle, shaking his head.

"You can’t possibly think you are better than me. Thought you were smarter. But look at you now."

He crouched in front of her, gripping her jaw with bruising force.

"You are nothing, Diane." His voice was full of disgust. "You were born to be owned."

Diane’s chest rose and fell, her breath shaky—but not with fear.

No.

With rage.

Her fingers flexed, subtly testing the loosened rope around her wrists.

Diane remembered some self defence lessons Riot taught her a few days ago.

Richard’s ego had made him sloppy. He thought he had won.

He was wrong.

Diane yanked her arms free in one fast move, grabbed the belt, and struck back.

The leather lashed across Richard’s face, a deep red welt formed instantly.

He stumbled back, cursing. "You little—"

Diane didn’t let him finish.

She lunged.

The belt cracked against his chest, his arms, his legs.

Every hit was fueled by the years of pain and torture he had inflicted on her.

"You called me nothing?" CRACK!

"You thought I’d be weak?" CRACK!

"You think you still own me?" CRACK!

"Aaagh!" Richard roared, reaching for the belt, but Diane was faster.

She twisted it around his wrist and pulled—sending him crashing to his knees.

Breathing heavily, she yanked the belt free and took a step back.

Richard wiped the blood from his split lip, laughing hoarsely. "You think you’ve won?"

Diane tilted her head. "No."

BANG.

The warehouse doors burst open.

Men in tactical gear flooded inside, guns drawn.

Richard’s men froze.

For a second, Richard’s widened eyes showed panic. "The police?"

Diane smirked. "Not quite."

Gabriel stepped through the doorway, suffocating anyone’s presence.

Riot was right beside him, casually having his gun slung over his shoulder, and Leon walked in last—calm, composed, deadly.

Wrinkles on Richard’s face formed a few waves, the frowns left marks on his lower cheeks. "You set me up."

Diane smiled. "Obviously."

Gabriel approached slowly, locking onto Diane’s bruised body. His jaw clenched.

"Did he touch you?" His voice was low, slowl.

Diane exhaled. "Not in the way he wanted to."

Gabriel snapped to Richard, and for the first time, there was something feral in his eyes.

Richard raised his hands. "Gabriel—"

Gabriel didn’t hesitate.

His fist crashed into Richard’s face, sending him sprawling to the ground.

Richard groaned, rolling onto his side, but Gabriel grabbed him by the collar and yanked him up.

"You took my wife," Gabriel growled. "You put your hands on her."

Richard spat blood, smirking despite the pain. "You act like you own her."

Gabriel tilted his head, then shoved Richard back onto the ground.

"She’s not an object. But you? You’re nothing."

Diane watched as Gabriel reached into his pocket, pulling out something small.

A vial.

The same liquid he had given her before.

Gabriel turned to Diane, walking over and pressing the vial into her palm.

His voice was way calmer than before. "You know what to do with it."

Diane stared down at the vial, then at Richard—who was now truly afraid.

For the first time in his miserable life...

He knew what it felt like to be powerless.

And Diane?

She smiled.

After a few hours, Richard coughed, blood fell from the corner of his mouth as he struggled against the restraints.

His wrists were bound tightly to the arms of the chair, his ankles secured to the legs.

Diane was in front of him, rolling the small vial between her fingers, watching as the light of the warehouse glinted off the dark liquid inside.

Gabriel and Riot were behind her, silent but deadly, while Leon leaned against a nearby pillar, arms crossed, watching his daughter with a look of quiet approval.

Richard’s breathing was heavy, his smirk kept fading as he eyed the vial in Diane’s hand.

"You think you’re free?" he spat. "You’ll always be the pathetic, ugly little girl who needed my guidance."

Diane smiled coldly. "No, Richard." She crouched in front of him, tilting her head. "I was the little girl you broke."

Richard sneered, yanking at his restraints.

"Everything I did was for you! To make you better! And this is how you repay me?"

Diane’s fingers tightened around the vial. "You were never making me better. You were destroying me."

She stepped closer.

"You called me ugly. So, I straightened my curls until they were fried and lifeless."

She ran a hand through her now-healthy curls, letting them bounce naturally. "And yet, it was never enough."

Richard’s nostrils flared. "Your hair was a mess. You looked like a filthy street rat—"

Diane’s slap was loud enough to travel through the warehouse.

Richard’s head snapped to the side, a fresh amount of blood leaked from his busted lip.

Diane didn’t stop.

"You told me my skin was disgusting, full of flaws," she continued.

"But the only products you ever gave me were cheap, expired garbage. Do you know how much my skin hurt from using those?"

Richard let out a short, mocking laugh, but there was no confidence in it.

"Maybe if you weren’t such a selfish little whore, I would’ve spent more money on you—"

Another slap.

Diane’s palm burned, but she didn’t care.

"You ripped my dresses apart if the sewing wasn’t perfectly aligned." Her voice cracked slightly.

"Made me feel worthless over fabric, over threads."

She stepped closer, leaning down until she was mere inches from his face.

"And you know what, Richard?" she whispered. "You still weren’t happy."

Richard’s breaths came fast and ragged, his looked between the vial in her hand and the merciless expression on her face.

Diane straightened, exhaling slowly.

"But I am free now," she said softly.

She held up the vial, studying the dark liquid.

"And I’m going to free you, too."

Richard’s eyes widened. "Diane—"

Before he could finish, she uncorked the vial and tilted it over his face.

The liquid splashed into his eyes.

"Aaaaah!!!"

A bloodcurdling scream tore from Richard’s throat.

His body moved violently, the chair rattled beneath him as he howled in agony.

"AAAAAHH! YOU BITCH—YOU CRAZY BITCH—MY EYES! MY EYES!"

Diane stepped back, watching as Richard thrashed, his head jerking wildly as the liquid ate away at his vision.

Gabriel’s hand brushed against her lower back, his voice sounded so low and satisfied. "You did well, wife."

Diane exhaled, feeling something inside her finally loosen.

Richard kept screaming, shaking, his cries becoming hoarse as the pain took over.

Riot whistled, tilting his head. "Damn. That’s a hell of a way to go."

Leon stepped forward, crouching beside Richard.

He grabbed his chin, forcing his face upward, staring at the red, melting flesh around his once-proud eyes.

"Diane, any words to him?"

She exhaled, and squatted down. "You spent your whole life obsessed with perfection," Diane murmured. "Now, you’ll never see it again."