Second Marriage, The Billionaire's Planned Love novel Chapter 213

Roman’s POV 1

I have rotted in this concrete tomb for far too long now. How did my perfect scheme crumble into nothing? For many years, I had been systematically bleeding the Thorne empire dry, skimming millions from their operations without detection. But when the moment arrived to deliver the final blow

and seize control of the most powerful crime family on the East Coast, everything collapsed. All because of that insignificant woman. Ivy destroyed everything the night I eliminated Caleb’s parents. He should have died alongside them in that car bomb, but he was with that naive girl instead of attending the family dinner as planned. From that cursed evening, my carefully constructed world began its descent into chaos.

Now I festered in this putrid wasteland, my body shattered and my spirit crushed beyond recognition. I could not even complete what I started with that arrogant bastard Caleb. My bullet found its mark in his shoulder, but before I could deliver the killing shot, white–hot agony exploded through my right leg. The prison doctor delivered his verdict with the emotional detachment of a coroner. The shotgun pellets had fragmented upon impact, obliterating nerves, arteries and bone beyond any hope of reconstruction. Amputation at the hip was the only option to prevent sepsis. They severed my entire leg, leaving me unable to use any prosthetic device. These rusted metal crutches became my only companions in this crippled existence.

After the amputation surgery in the prison medical wing, they dragged me from the sterile infirmary to a cell block controlled by the most violent predators in the system. The moment I displayed signs of recovery, they threw me into a cage with several apex predators who circled me like sharks sensing blood.

My first night taught me the savage hierarchy that governed this concrete jungle. When one of the inmates approached with obvious malicious intent, I made the fatal mistake of challenging his authority. I called him worthless

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scum, a pathetic excuse for a man who would never amount to anything beyond these walls. His response was swift and merciless. While his cellmates pinned my arms and held me down, he violated me with brutal savagery. That night marked my transformation from hunter to prey. They passed me around like currency, trading my degradation for cigarettes and protection from rival gangs. Every evening brought fresh humiliation as different inmates claimed their piece of me. For an extended period, I endured this systematic torture until my desperate pleas finally moved the warden to relocate me to a different block.

Recently I arrived in new territory. Several unfamiliar faces observed me from the shadows, but these predators maintained their distance. The absence of immediate violence felt like a blessing from above. During recreation time in the concrete yard, I positioned myself against the chain–link fence, surveying the maze of razor wire and guard towers that defined the boundaries of my world. Correctional officers watched from their elevated positions, maintaining careful distance from the inmates

below.

A familiar voice cut through the ambient noise of the exercise yard. I turned to see Brodie approaching with his lieutenants Baxter and Derek flanking him like attack dogs.

Relief flooded through my chest at the sight of recognizable faces. These men possessed the muscle and connections I desperately needed to survive in this hellscape.

Derek spoke first, his voice dripping with manufactured sympathy. “Well, well, how the mighty have fallen. Missing that leg, are we? You look like death itself, a broken shadow of the man who once commanded respect.”

I swallowed what remained of my pride. “The operation went sideways at the docks.”

Baxter displayed a cruel smile that revealed gold dental work. “So we heard through the grapevine.”

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“I offered you backup muscle for that job, remember? But you insisted on playing the lone wolf against the Thorne family. Look where that arrogance got you.” Derek’s reminder cut deep because it contained truth. He had offered additional firepower for the kidnapping operation, but I had refused to trust anyone else with my master plan.

Brodie stepped closer, his eyes gleaming with predatory satisfaction. “The real problem, little Roman, is that you abandoned your crew when the heat got too intense. That kind of betrayal carries serious consequences in our line of work.”

The exercise yard began to shift around us. Inmates converged from all directions, forming a tight circle that trapped me in the center like a gladiator arena. The guards made no move to intervene, and ice water ran through my veins as I realized what was happening.

“Come on, Brodie. I was hiding for survival purposes. You understand the logic behind that decision.” My voice cracked with mounting desperation.

Brodie’s tone remained conversational, almost friendly in its casual menace. “Sure, I understand the reasoning. But you could have assisted us from the shadows, could you not? I heard through reliable sources that you even threw your own daughter under the bus to save your worthless hide. What kind of father betrays his own flesh and blood?”

Rage flared in my chest despite my vulnerable position. “Watch your tone when addressing me, Brodie. You know exactly what I am capable of accomplishing.”

His laughter was cold and hollow, echoing off the concrete walls. “Oh, I know precisely what kind of rat you truly are, Roman. But here is some new information for you to process. The rules have fundamentally changed since your imprisonment. You are no longer the same man who once commanded fear and respect throughout the underworld. In this place, you are just another broken victim waiting to be devoured by stronger predators.”

Brodie gestured to someone positioned behind me. My crutches were kicked

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away with vicious force, sending me crashing face–first onto the unforgiving concrete. I caught myself with my palms, feeling the rough surface tear through skin. When I managed to look up, I saw the brothers Caleb and Fisher on either side of me, each gripping one of my crutches like medieval weapons. Their faces displayed masks of barely contained murderous rage.

Brodie crouched down until his face was level with mine. His smile was the

expression of a demon savoring fresh torment.

“Like I explained, you hold no special status here whatsoever. But me?” He stood and spread his arms wide, addressing the bloodthirsty crowd. “I rule this kingdom of the damned with absolute authority. Enjoy yourselves, gentlemen.”

Brodie turned his back and walked away as the mob descended upon me like rabid animals. Fists and steel–toed boots rained down from every direction. I curled into a defensive ball, desperately trying to protect my vital organs as the savage beating continued without mercy. Blood filled my mouth, and my vision blurred from the repeated impacts to my skull. Through the haze of excruciating pain, I wondered why the guards remained motionless in their towers, observing my destruction with apparent indifference.

Consciousness abandoned me on the blood–stained concrete floor of that

prison yard.

When awareness returned, I found myself lying on a narrow cot in the prison medical facility. Every nerve in my body screamed in agony. My face felt like raw meat, swollen beyond recognition. Several ribs were undoubtedly fractured, each breath bringing fresh waves of torment. My remaining good leg throbbed with such intensity I wondered if they had broken bones there as well.

The prison doctor, a weathered man with dead eyes, examined me with the enthusiasm of someone inspecting spoiled meat. He spoke without looking up from his clipboard.

“Multiple contusions, possible concussion, several fractured ribs. You’ll live,

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unfortunately. No permanent damage to vital organs.”

I tried to speak but only managed a groan through my swollen lips.

“Save your strength,” he said coldly. “You’re going to need it where you’re

headed.”

Hours passed before Warden Martinez entered the medical bay. He was a massive man with scarred hands and the bearing of someone accustomed to violence. His presence filled the small room with an oppressive weight.

“Mr. Morrison,” he said, pulling up a chair beside my cot. “I trust you’re enjoying your stay at our fine establishment?”

I struggled to form words through my damaged mouth. “The… guards… they just… watched…”

His laugh was harsh and without humor. “The guards? Son, this isn’t some country club. This is a place where the strong survive and the weak become entertainment. What happened to you out there? That was justice being

served.”

“I need… protection…”

“Protection?” He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. “From who? Brodie runs half the criminal operations in this place. His word is law among the inmates. You crossed him on the outside, betrayed his crew, threw your own people under the bus to save yourself. Did you really think there wouldn’t be consequences?”

The warden stood and straightened his uniform. “Here’s what’s going to happen, Morrison. You’re being transferred to solitary confinement. Not for your protection, mind you, but because dead inmates create paperwork 1 don’t want to deal with.”

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