Breaking Point of Divorce (Hugh and Bethan) novel Chapter 339

Chapter 339 Rather Die Than Forgive You

Lucky Draw

Midday approached by the time ethan opened her eyes again.

As she glanced around the bedroom, her mind went blank with a jolt.

This was the private island where she and Hugh had spent their honeymoon.

Swinging her legs over the bed, Bethan stepped barefoot onto the floor, only to be hit by a wave of dizziness. Stumbling back, she collapsed onto the mattress, closing her eyes to steady herself.

Fragments of memory flooded in: Hugh dragging her onto the helicopter, her anger and panic mixing with hypoglycemia, then darkness as she fainted.

She vaguely remembered his tears as he held her, his grip tight even as he cried-he’d refused to let her go, even then.

Patting her pockets, Bethan realized Hugh still had her phone.

She’d considered giving in, soothing him just to get back home, but he’d brought her here anyway.

The sound of the door creaking open pulled her from her thoughts. Bethan opened her eyes slowly.

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Lucky Draw

Hugh stood in the doorway, dressed in black trousers and a white shirt, unbuttoned at the collar, the hem loose over his

waist.

Deep fatigue lined his features, making him look haggard, almost ill.

He sat on the edge of the bed, his movements gentle, careful as he propped one hand beside her and brushed a strand of hair from her face. “Are you feeling uncomfortable anywhere?”

Bethan swatted his hand away, scrambling to sit up, her eyes sharp with anger.

Hugh’s voice remained unnervingly soft, ignoring her hostility. “I made some food. Should I carry you downstairs, or bring it up

here?”

“Hugh, ever since you baked that blueberry muffin for Megan, I’ll never eat anything you make again,” she snapped, her tone cold.

The words hung in the air, suffocating.

Hugh clenched his jaw, fighting off the sharp pain in his chest and the ache in his stomach.

He took a moment to calm himself, opening his eyes to lock gazes with her, his voice hoarse. “Done pretending?”

“Did you bring me here to imprison me?” Bethan shot back, her tone icy.

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Hugh pulled the blanket up over her legs, his touch light. “No one will disturb us here. Let’s calm down-talk properly.”

“There’s nothing to talk about. I want to go home!” she snapped, growing agitated.

“Promise me you’ll stop seeing Calvin, and I’ll take you back right now,” he said, his tone still gentle.

Their eyes met, tension crackling between them.

Bethan grabbed a pillow and threw it at him. “You have no right to meddle in my private life!

“I’d rather be alone for the rest of my life than ever come back to

you!”

Hugh sat still on the bed, letting her hit and yell, not moving to defend himself.

Once she’d worn herself out, he bent down to pick up the pillow

from the floor.

Standing beside the bed, Hugh held it in his hands, his voice quiet. “You really won’t forgive me?”

Bethan’s gaze was unwavering, firm as steel. “Forgive you? How could I forgive you and still live with myself?

“You’ve already brought me here. I only have one life—if it comes to it, I’d rather die than forgive you.”

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Hugh fought to control his emotions, his fingers trembling as he gripped the pillow tightly.

They stared at each other in silence, the air thick with tension, heavy and suffocating.

The standoff dragged on, neither speaking, until finally Hugh set the pillow down and turned to leave.

Bethan sat rigid, watching him exit the bedroom before collapsing back onto the bed, her strength gone.

This was his private island-without him, she couldn’t leave.

Her phone was in his possession, cutting her off from the outside world.

If this was how it had to be, she’d use this chance to cut ties with him completely, to make him give up.

Lost in her thoughts, Bethan didn’t hear Hugh return until he set a bowl of soup on the nightstand.

He glanced at her, his voice flat. “made soup. Sit up and cat something.”

When Bethan didn’t respond, he bent down to help her.

Bethan pushed him away, rolling onto her side with her back to him.

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Lucky Draw

So, Hugh dropped to one knee beside the bed, propping one hand behind her.

“You have low blood sugar. You’ll pass out again if you don’t eat,” he said, his voice softening.

Still, she didn’t move. Growing frustrated, Hugh gently turned her over to face him.

Their eyes locked again.

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