His Private Hell - Chapter 77: Chapter 77

The silence in the penthouse wasn’t peaceful—it was dangerous. The kind of silence that wrapped around Eella’s lungs and squeezed until breathing felt like a betrayal.
She stood barefoot on the marble floors, wearing nothing but Garrison’s black dress shirt, oversized and warm with his scent. Her eyes kept darting to the window, where the city blinked like a thousand secrets daring her to spill one.
But it wasn’t the skyline that made her uneasy.
It was the way Garrison hadn’t said a word in ten minutes.
He stood across the room, back turned, shirtless, his spine stiff, shoulders drawn tight like wire. His phone was in his hand, screen dimmed. Frozen. Like him.
“What did you see?” she asked softly.
He didn’t answer.
Her heart kicked faster. “Garrison.”
He finally turned, and there was something terrifying in his eyes.
“Darcie isn’t who you think she is,” he said.
The name punched the air out of her lungs. “What do you mean?”
He threw the phone on the table. “She never died.”
Eella staggered back, heart slamming into her ribs. “That’s not possible. You told me—”
“I told you what I was told. What I believed. Until tonight.” His voice was jagged. “She’s alive. And she’s the one who locked that door on the 33rd floor.”
Eella’s vision blurred as the ground shifted beneath her. “But the reports. The funeral—”
“Fabricated. All of it.” He crossed to her in three long strides, gripping her arms. “She faked her death, Eella. And she’s been watching me ever since.”
“No,” she whispered, but even she could hear the doubt creeping in.
“I just got this message.” He reached for his phone again, swiping the screen and holding it up.
A video played.
It was dark, grainy, but the voice—oh god, the voice—
“Poor Garrison,” it purred. “So lost without me. And now you’ve gone and replaced me with her. Tsk-tsk.”
The camera panned, and there she was.
Darcie.
Alive. Smiling. Eyes locked on the camera like she could see through it.
Through them.
“She’s been inside the building,” Garrison said. “In our systems. In our lives.”
Eella couldn’t process it. Couldn’t breathe. “Why now?”
He stepped back, raking a hand through his hair. “Because I fell in love with you.”
Her throat closed.
“No,” he added bitterly. “Because she knew I could.”
They stared at each other. Both exposed. Both unraveling.
And then Eella’s phone buzzed.
She didn’t want to look.
But she did.
UNKNOWN: You really should lock your doors, darling. You never know what monsters slip inside.
Garrison snatched the phone from her hand. His face changed. Hardened.
“We leave. Now.”
“But—”
“She’s watching. Probably outside. I have a safehouse—”
“No,” Eella said, finding her spine. “I’m not running.”
Garrison stepped toward her. “You don’t understand what she’s capable of.”
“Then tell me,” Eella demanded. “Who is she really?”
He paused. And when he spoke, his voice was hollow. “She’s the one who built Ally’s Inc.”
The silence shattered.
“What?”
Garrison nodded slowly. “Not me. Her. She was the real architect. I was just the face. The monster she used.”
Eella’s blood turned to ice.
“She found me when I was nothing. Taught me everything. Loved me in ways no human ever should.”
“What does that mean?”
He looked at her, raw. “It means she didn’t just fake her death. She burned her soul and came back as something else.”
“You’re not making sense—”
“I’ve killed people for less,” he said, eyes burning. “But I couldn’t kill her. And now she’s back to finish what she started.”
The lights flickered.
Eella froze.
Garrison grabbed her hand, dragging her down the private stairwell.
“This way.”
They burst into the underground garage, the sleek black Maserati already purring to life.
“How did she get into your systems?” Eella asked as they sped into the night.
“She built them,” Garrison said. “Darcie didn’t just create Ally’s Inc. She coded every firewall, designed every backdoor.”
“So you’ve been living in a house wired by a ghost.”
He didn’t laugh. “No. Worse. By a goddess who likes to watch her creations burn.”
They drove in silence for a while. But not a calm one. A waiting silence. Like something was about to blow.
And it did.
At the safehouse, a converted warehouse lined with steel-reinforced walls and biometric locks, Eella stepped into the bedroom and found it filled with roses.
Thousands.
Black.
Bleeding.
On the bed sat a note.
Do you miss me, G?
You used to choke me better.
– D.
Eella stared at it.
Garrison went pale.
“I’m going to kill her,” he whispered.
But Eella saw the truth in his eyes.
He already had.
And that was the real horror.
“What happened the night she died?” Eella asked, voice trembling.
Garrison leaned against the wall like his legs might give. “We fought. Like animals. She said she was tired of pretending. Said I wasn’t man enough to become what she needed.”
“What did she need?”
“Someone broken.”
He looked at Eella, and something in her broke too.
“She said I was too soft. Too human. So she made me watch as she injected herself with something. Said it would change her.”
“What was it?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. But she screamed for hours. And when she went still, I thought—” His voice cracked. “I buried her myself.”
“And now?”
“She wants to finish what she started.”
Eella stepped closer, hand on his chest. “You’re not hers anymore.”
His hand closed around hers, tight.
“No. I’m yours.”
They kissed. Not gently. Not sweetly.
But desperately.
He pushed her against the cold steel wall, mouth devouring hers, hands sliding under the oversized shirt. She gasped as he gripped her thighs and lifted her, wrapping her around his hips.
“I need to feel something real,” he growled.
“You have me.”
He slammed into her in one brutal thrust, and she moaned loud enough to echo.
Their bodies collided with violence and hunger, the kind of passion born not from love—but from terror.
From knowing that the world outside could collapse at any moment.
From knowing that the dead woman watching them had once been the only one who knew every dark thing Garrison liked to do in bed.
Now Eella knew it too.
He bit her shoulder, fingers bruising her hips as he thrust deeper, harder.
“I’ll destroy the world if she touches you,” he said against her ear.
“I’m not afraid.”
“You should be.”
She tightened around him, nails raking his back. “I like monsters.”
He groaned, grinding harder.
“Say my name,” she demanded.
“Eella,” he gasped, sweat dripping down his neck.
“Again.”
“Eella. Fuck—Eella.”
They came together like war.
Explosive. Violent. Beautiful in its destruction.
After, they lay tangled on the floor, chests heaving.
She touched his face.
“We have to go back.”
His eyes widened. “What?”
“To the 33rd floor,” she said. “That’s where this ends.”
And in that moment, Garrison knew—
She wasn’t his weakness.
She was his match.
And together, they were going to burn it all down.