His Private Hell - Chapter 99: Chapter 99
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Eella didn’t make it far before the world spun sideways.
The storm outside wasn’t just weather—it was chaos. Wind thrashed at her hair like wild fingers, rain soaking her to the bone. The penthouse behind her loomed like a shrine she had barely escaped, and inside it, two monsters paced—one who had owned her body, and one who was ready to devour her soul.
She ran until her legs gave out.
Collapsed on the cold marble floor of the underground garage, breath catching like it had nowhere left to go. Her vision blurred. From tears or rain, she didn’t know. She couldn’t tell the difference anymore.
Everything inside her was unraveling.
She heard his footsteps.
Of course she did.
He never let her run too far.
“Don’t touch me,” she snapped before he reached her.
Garrison knelt beside her. Soaking wet. Shirt clinging to him. Eyes wrecked.
“Eella—”
“You used me,” she spat, voice sharp enough to slice skin. “You planned me.”
“I didn’t know you’d matter.”
“Oh, that makes it better?”
“No,” he growled. “It makes it worse.”
She stood, fists clenched. “You made me sign my womb away like it was a damn lease.”
“I needed control.”
She laughed—wild and guttural. “No, you needed obsession. And she fed it to you, didn’t she?”
Silence.
She shoved him. “Didn’t she?”
His hand caught her wrist midair. Not violent. Just enough to say, stop.
“She was everything I wanted until she made me hate myself. And I thought I could fix it… with you.”
Her heart cracked. “So I’m your redemption arc?”
“No,” he murmured, stepping closer. “You’re my damn punishment.”
Her breath hitched.
Because the way he said it—low, reverent, sick—didn’t sound like hate.
It sounded like devotion.
She yanked away.
And turned straight into Darcie.
Standing at the end of the corridor, bone-dry under a black umbrella like the queen of the storm. Her lipstick perfect. Her smile, cruel.
“Running never works,” she cooed.
Garrison stiffened. “Darcie, get out.”
“I’m not here for you,” she said. “I’m here for her.”
Eella narrowed her eyes. “Why?”
Darcie stepped closer. Her heels echoed like threats.
“You want to know the truth?” she whispered. “The real one?”
Eella stayed silent.
Darcie leaned in.
“He never stopped loving me.”
Garrison growled. “Don’t—”
“And I,” she continued, “never stopped controlling him.”
Eella’s breath stilled.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean,” Darcie said, voice a razor’s edge, “he didn’t bring you in because he hated me. He brought you in because I told him to.”
Eella froze.
Garrison didn’t deny it.
Didn’t even move.
“You’re lying,” Eella choked.
Darcie smiled. “Am I?”
Eella turned to him. “Say something.”
Garrison looked haunted.
Like a man staring at the noose he built for himself.
“She came to me,” he whispered. “After the divorce. Said I needed to heal. Move on. She suggested you.”
Eella’s knees went weak.
“I was a project?”
“No,” he said sharply. “You were supposed to be… safe. Forgettable. But you weren’t.”
“You used me.”
“I fell for you.”
“Bullshit!”
Darcie stepped between them.
“Don’t you get it?” she snapped. “You were never going to win. He doesn’t know how to love without destruction.”
Eella backed away. “And you do?”
“I taught him.”
“Then you taught him wrong.”
Darcie laughed. “Maybe. But at least he’s mine.”
Garrison moved so fast the storm itself paused.
He grabbed Darcie by the jaw. “You don’t own me.”
She smirked. “Don’t I?”
Eella had seen enough.
Heard enough.
She turned.
Walked away.
This time, he didn’t follow.
But Darcie did.
Outside, the rain had turned to sleet, slicing across her face like ice. Eella reached the street, fingers shaking as she tried to flag down a car, but none came.
Then Darcie’s voice slid behind her like a knife.
“You’re pregnant.”
Eella froze.
She didn’t turn.
Didn’t breathe.
Darcie stepped beside her, calm as death.
“I can smell it,” she whispered. “That glow. That pain. That bloom.”
“You’re insane.”
“No,” Darcie said softly. “Just prophetic.”
Eella’s throat closed.
The timing.
The sickness.
The way her body had shifted in the past week.
No.
No, no, no.
She ran again.
Not because she knew where she was going.
But because if she stood still any longer, the truth would swallow her whole.
Behind her, Garrison’s voice thundered into the night.
“Eella!”
But it was Darcie’s whisper she couldn’t escape.
“You’re not just his obsession anymore,” she’d said.
“You’re his legacy.”
And somewhere in the deepest part of her…
That terrified her more than anything.
The storm outside wasn’t just weather—it was chaos. Wind thrashed at her hair like wild fingers, rain soaking her to the bone. The penthouse behind her loomed like a shrine she had barely escaped, and inside it, two monsters paced—one who had owned her body, and one who was ready to devour her soul.
She ran until her legs gave out.
Collapsed on the cold marble floor of the underground garage, breath catching like it had nowhere left to go. Her vision blurred. From tears or rain, she didn’t know. She couldn’t tell the difference anymore.
Everything inside her was unraveling.
She heard his footsteps.
Of course she did.
He never let her run too far.
“Don’t touch me,” she snapped before he reached her.
Garrison knelt beside her. Soaking wet. Shirt clinging to him. Eyes wrecked.
“Eella—”
“You used me,” she spat, voice sharp enough to slice skin. “You planned me.”
“I didn’t know you’d matter.”
“Oh, that makes it better?”
“No,” he growled. “It makes it worse.”
She stood, fists clenched. “You made me sign my womb away like it was a damn lease.”
“I needed control.”
She laughed—wild and guttural. “No, you needed obsession. And she fed it to you, didn’t she?”
Silence.
She shoved him. “Didn’t she?”
His hand caught her wrist midair. Not violent. Just enough to say, stop.
“She was everything I wanted until she made me hate myself. And I thought I could fix it… with you.”
Her heart cracked. “So I’m your redemption arc?”
“No,” he murmured, stepping closer. “You’re my damn punishment.”
Her breath hitched.
Because the way he said it—low, reverent, sick—didn’t sound like hate.
It sounded like devotion.
She yanked away.
And turned straight into Darcie.
Standing at the end of the corridor, bone-dry under a black umbrella like the queen of the storm. Her lipstick perfect. Her smile, cruel.
“Running never works,” she cooed.
Garrison stiffened. “Darcie, get out.”
“I’m not here for you,” she said. “I’m here for her.”
Eella narrowed her eyes. “Why?”
Darcie stepped closer. Her heels echoed like threats.
“You want to know the truth?” she whispered. “The real one?”
Eella stayed silent.
Darcie leaned in.
“He never stopped loving me.”
Garrison growled. “Don’t—”
“And I,” she continued, “never stopped controlling him.”
Eella’s breath stilled.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean,” Darcie said, voice a razor’s edge, “he didn’t bring you in because he hated me. He brought you in because I told him to.”
Eella froze.
Garrison didn’t deny it.
Didn’t even move.
“You’re lying,” Eella choked.
Darcie smiled. “Am I?”
Eella turned to him. “Say something.”
Garrison looked haunted.
Like a man staring at the noose he built for himself.
“She came to me,” he whispered. “After the divorce. Said I needed to heal. Move on. She suggested you.”
Eella’s knees went weak.
“I was a project?”
“No,” he said sharply. “You were supposed to be… safe. Forgettable. But you weren’t.”
“You used me.”
“I fell for you.”
“Bullshit!”
Darcie stepped between them.
“Don’t you get it?” she snapped. “You were never going to win. He doesn’t know how to love without destruction.”
Eella backed away. “And you do?”
“I taught him.”
“Then you taught him wrong.”
Darcie laughed. “Maybe. But at least he’s mine.”
Garrison moved so fast the storm itself paused.
He grabbed Darcie by the jaw. “You don’t own me.”
She smirked. “Don’t I?”
Eella had seen enough.
Heard enough.
She turned.
Walked away.
This time, he didn’t follow.
But Darcie did.
Outside, the rain had turned to sleet, slicing across her face like ice. Eella reached the street, fingers shaking as she tried to flag down a car, but none came.
Then Darcie’s voice slid behind her like a knife.
“You’re pregnant.”
Eella froze.
She didn’t turn.
Didn’t breathe.
Darcie stepped beside her, calm as death.
“I can smell it,” she whispered. “That glow. That pain. That bloom.”
“You’re insane.”
“No,” Darcie said softly. “Just prophetic.”
Eella’s throat closed.
The timing.
The sickness.
The way her body had shifted in the past week.
No.
No, no, no.
She ran again.
Not because she knew where she was going.
But because if she stood still any longer, the truth would swallow her whole.
Behind her, Garrison’s voice thundered into the night.
“Eella!”
But it was Darcie’s whisper she couldn’t escape.
“You’re not just his obsession anymore,” she’d said.
“You’re his legacy.”
And somewhere in the deepest part of her…
That terrified her more than anything.
End of His Private Hell Chapter 99. Continue reading Chapter 100 or return to His Private Hell book page.