Sweet Hatred
Chapter 133: the end (III) final

Chapter 133: the end (III) final

I took a shower. Shaved. Put on the suit.

Looked in the mirror and didn’t recognize the man staring back.

But at least I looked human.

That night, I signed my release forms. They didn’t argue.

I was too quiet, too calm, too cold, just how they liked me.

I was a machine. A malfunctioning one, at best.

What scared me most wasn’t the pain. It was the quiet. The stillness. The way everyone treated me like I was fragile now—something broken beyond repair.

But I didn’t need kindness.

I needed someone to see me. To hate me, maybe. Spit in my face. Remind me I was still here. I needed rage. Fire. Something.

Because nothing felt worse than nothing. And no one ever looked at me the way Ivan did.

No one ever would.

And maybe... maybe I deserved that.

...

The first time I stepped into the Roman high-rise, something inside me recoiled. The air smelled like polished marble and legacy. It smelled like him. My father.

But I walked in anyway, not because I wanted to. Because I had nowhere else to go.

They handed me the title of CEO of one of the largest subsidiaries under the Roman empire, XE corp, like a bandage over a severed limb. Meetings. Deals. Deadlines. Numbers. Contracts. I showed up. Signed things. Stared at people like I was made of stone. And they bowed their heads, too afraid to ask what was missing.

They couldn’t see that I was already gone.

At night, I drank. Smoked. Fucked a bottle more than I ever touched a person.

Mia noticed first.

Sweet, too-perfect Mia with her glossy lips and a face that knew it had confidence. At first, I ignored her—dismissed her flirtations like I would a fly buzzing at my ear. She wasn’t bold enough to catch me.

But she got bolder.

Tight skirts. Leaning too close. Subtle glances. She laughed at everything I said even when I hadn’t said anything. And maybe... maybe I let her get away with it because she was trying.

She was trying to pull something human out of me. And I was desperate enough to let her.

The first time I fucked her, I didn’t say a word. Just bent her over my desk, gripped her throat, and took what I needed.

She moaned like she mattered. I closed my eyes and imagined a different voice.

It didn’t work. But I kept doing it anyway. I wasn’t chasing pleasure. I was chasing a heartbeat. A pulse. Anything to remind me I still had one.

Until her.

Until that day.

When I was with Mia again, the way I always was—rough, mechanical, dead behind the eyes. Her nails scratched at the desk like they wanted something more. Connection. Meaning.

She wasn’t going to get it. My eyes drifted to the window. I was thinking about paperwork.

And then the door opened. I could never forget. Mia gasped beneath me, trying to pull her skirt down, but I couldn’t move. I couldn’t fucking breathe.

She was standing there. Eyes blazing. Jaw clenched. The kind of anger that felt holy. Aria. And for the first time in a long time, something inside me snapped awake.

My heart didn’t beat—it roared.

I pulled out of Mia, barely registering her panicked whimper, and stood up like I’d been caught mid-murder. My gaze never left Aria. God, she was incandescent—rage glowing off her like heat off a wildfire. Her lips were parted, chest heaving, and her disgust? Her hatred?

It made my knees weak. She looked at me like she wanted to bash my head against the wall over and over till it was nothing but brains and blood.

I felt alive.

And then, just like that... it was gone.

The memory.

The blood.

Ivan.

The noise of it all faded, leaving only the sound of birds chirping in the trees around us. A gentle breeze rustled the linens of the table, carrying the scent of basil and roasted garlic. My jaw was tight. My palms were resting flat on my thighs beneath the table, clenched, still trembling faintly from the weight of a past that had taken far too much from me.

Yet... somehow, it hadn’t taken everything.

Because she was here.

Aria.

Sitting beside me, unaware of how much she was holding me together without even trying. Or maybe she knew. Maybe she always knew. Or I just secretly wanted her to.

The ache in my chest hadn’t dulled. It never did. Ivan’s name still carried the sting of loss, of guilt, of all the things I should’ve said but didn’t, all the things I should’ve done but failed to. And yet...

Yet, when I looked at Aria, I felt that impossible, painful flicker again—the same one I felt the first time I kissed him. The way that kiss had soothed something inside me I didn’t know was screaming. The way it had shattered me right after.

That same feeling was back. It has been here for a while.

And it terrified me.

Because I thought I’d buried it with him. That whatever was left of me wasn’t capable of loving again. That it died on that bloodstained dirt, with Ivan’s breath leaving his body in my arms.

But Aria—God, Aria—she reminded me I was still alive. Every time she looked at me like I was more than a name, more than the heir to a cold empire. Every time she touched me like I wasn’t cursed.

She was fixing something she didn’t break. Healing parts of me I’d long given up on.

And I hated that.

I hated how good it felt.

Because I knew what happened to the people I let in.

Still, I wanted to let her in.

I wanted it so badly, it hurt.

And maybe that’s what fucked me up the most, realizing it wasn’t just sex anymore. Not for me. God, it hadn’t been for a while now. I wanted her constantly, like—every second of the day, like I couldn’t breathe without thinking about her.

I wanted to be everywhere around and inside her all the time, not just because she made me lose my goddamn mind, but because it felt like the only place I ever—I ever mattered. Like I was safe there. Like I was something she wanted to keep. And I think that’s what ruined me. That I needed it. That I needed her.

I let out a slow breath, not even realizing I’d been holding it, until something soft touched my cheek.

Her fingers.

I blinked.

She was leaning toward me, her brows drawn tight, lips parted. Her thumb gently brushed the tear I hadn’t even known had slipped free.

My chest twisted, and I gave her a soft, crooked smile. One that carried the weight of everything I couldn’t say just yet.

And in her eyes, there wasn’t judgment or pity.

Only warmth.

Like she’d seen everything... and chose to stay anyway.

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