Hearts Remember What Minds Try To Forget by Rex Wilder 14

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That afternoon, Lucas sat at his desk, his eyes glued to the surveillance footage playing on his phone. 

Inside the freezer, Chloe had shrieked for three agonizing hours. But as the biting cold leached the warmth from her bones, her screams dwindled to ragged gasps, her strength draining with each shiver. She was a crumpled mess, huddled tight in the corner, her body convulsing with uncontrolled tremors, occasionally gasping Lucas’s name through chattering teeth. 

“Lucas… please… I was wrong…” she croaked, a desperate plea. “Please… let me go…” 

Yet, no shred of mercy touched Lucas. The memory of his reputation, his family’s name, all dragged through the mud by her treacherous schemes, hardened his resolve. His loathing for her only deepened. 

Had it not been for her, the Thorne Dynasty wouldn’t have suffered such devastating losses to its fortune. 

If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t have lost everything! 

The thought ignited a fresh blaze of hatred in Lucas for Chloe. He was just about to reach for the intercom, intent on ordering his secretary to inflict even more suffering on Chloe, when a sharp, insistent knock at the door startled him. His secretary entered, his face grim, his voice tight with urgency as he spoke to Lucas: “Mr. Thorne, Miss Vance just collapsed. Someone found a pool of blood beneath her. We checked her phone; her photo gallery holds sonogram results. She’s pregnant.” 

The news only halted Lucas for a few seconds. His cold resolve snapped back instantly, his voice devoid of warmth. “Send her to the hospital. Terminate the pregnancy.” 

The secretary moved immediately to carry out Lucas’s command. Barely five minutes passed before Lucas watched on the monitor as Chloe was carried out of the cold room. 

She was rushed to a private hospital. Lucas, meanwhile, cranked his phone’s volume all the way up. He rose from his desk, walked to the window, and pushed it open, then lit a cigarette. He took a long, slow drag, listening as Chloe’s screams began to echo from the device. 

His secretary had kept the line open, making sure Lucas heard every agonizing detail from the hospital. 

The doctors were already carrying out Lucas’s ruthless orders. He’d specifically forbidden the nurses from administering any anesthesia, intent on making Chloe endure the entire miscarriage in excruciating, conscious agony. 

Chloe’s hysterical screams echoed through the phone. “Lucas! Why are you doing this to me? The pain… God, it hurts so bad!” Her sobs then contorted into a furious tirade. “You’re the one who drove Anna away! You were complicit in every single thing I did! Her father’s hit–and–run, her brother’s death, even her mother’s passing – you played a part in all of it! You’ll never wash your hands clean!” 

“Hahahaha, Lucas, you’re a murderer, just like me!” 

“You lost Anna completely, ages ago!” 

Lucas’s face tightened, growing darker with each word. 

— 

He ground the half–smoked cigarette into the crystal ashtray, then snapped at the secretary on the phone, “Don’t let her speak again. I 

don’t want to hear her voice.” 

From that day on, Chloe was silenced. 

No one knew how she was silenced, because as soon as she left the hospital, she was committed to a mental institution. 

After that, Lucas never ceased his relentless search for my 

whereabouts. 

He put a sky–high bounty on any information about me, sparing no expense. 

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His secretary watched his worsening decline with growing concern, venturing, “Mr. Thorne, your health is paramount. You must prioritize your own well–being…” 

Lucas merely lifted his bloodshot, sunken eyes, a man possessed, oblivious to all else. He said, his voice flat and cold, “From now on, don’t bother me with anything that isn’t about her.” 

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