His After The Heartbreak (BL)-Chapter 118: Ruined Him

Chapter 118- Ruined Him

Logan's POV

Are you joking?" Lucas scoffed.

Joking? When the hell have I ever joked with this bastard? I tilted my head, my lips curling into a smirk. "Does it look like I'm joking?" I asked, my voice slow, deliberate. "Or are you so dumb you can't comprehend that I'm being serious?"

Did he really think I wouldn't be a million steps ahead of him? That I'd just sit back and let him have the upper hand? I had waited for this day. I had been patient. I had let him run his mouth, let him play his little games, because I was waiting—waiting for him to piss me off enough. Waiting for the moment I could finally show him who I really was.

People think quiet ones in relationships are weak. That because they don't argue, they don't have anything to say. But that's the thing. We do. We just don't want to start a fight—because when we do, we don't stop until it's brutal. But Lucas? He never got the memo. He thought I wouldn't do shit to him. That I couldn't.

He thought he had already won. That because he had beaten me up, bullied me—mentally, emotionally, physically—I'd never fight back. He thought I'd just stand there and take it. And the worst part? He was right. I did just stand there. I took everything. The punches. The insults. The gaslighting. Even when I didn't say anything, even when I didn't react, he'd still find a reason to lay his hands on me.

And the funny thing? I'm not a calm person. I don't let people hit me. Nobody touches me and walks away unscathed. But for him? For Lucas? I let it slide. Because I loved him. Because I cared about him. Because I was so fucking stupid I thought love meant enduring pain.

I'd let him hit me. And instead of hitting back, I'd apologize. I'd fucking apologize. And then he'd make me pay for it—literally.

Money.

He'd demand money before he'd "forgive" me. Money.

I still don't know if I was just naïve or if I was naturally stupid back then. Because how the fuck did I agree to that? How the fuck did I let him treat me like that? I didn't even realize I was being abused. I thought he was just being hard on me because he cared. That the way he treated me was because he loved me.

But no. He didn't love me.

He never did.

I was just his personal punching bag. Someone he could transfer his aggression onto.

Every single time I had to see him, I prayed. I prayed that no one pissed him off that day. That nothing triggered his temper. Because if something did? If someone made him angry? He wouldn't take it out on them. He'd take it out on me.

He'd hit me. Over and over. Until I couldn't breathe. And I'd just sit there. I wouldn't even lift my hands to fight back.

I remember the day he left me with a scar.

A big one.

My dad was furious. But what did I do? I lied. I looked my own father in the eye and lied to him—just to protect that bastard.

Lucas manipulated me. He destroyed me. And I didn't even realize it.

I thought he loved me.

I didn't know how fucked up I was. How toxic our relationship had become. Not until it was too late.

And then—one day—it snapped.

The day I finally saw him for what he was. The day I knew I would never, ever love him again.

The day he called my mother a bitch.

He laughed when he said it. Looked me in the eye and told me my mother was abused to death because she was a whore. That she slept around like a dog. That if I wasn't careful, if I acted like my mother, he would do the same to me.

The moment those words left his mouth, it was like something inside me shattered. My love for him? Gone. Just like that. Evaporated. Like it had never even existed. And in its place? Hate. A deep, burning hate so strong that I was sure I wouldn't even look at my worst enemy the way I looked at him. But the bastard was too blind to see it.

I wanted to leave. I wanted to dump him right there and walk away without a second thought. But then I asked myself—why leave now when I can destroy him first? Why not take my time? Why not make sure when I finally walk away, he never recovers? That was the best idea I had ever had. So, I stayed. I endured.

Even after he insulted my mother—my fucking mother—I swallowed my pride and went back to him. If it were anyone else, they wouldn't have had a single tooth left in their mouth. But for him? I held back. I played my part. Because revenge? It had to be perfect.

And as if his words weren't disgusting enough, he had the audacity to demand money before he would "forgive" me. I didn't argue. I handed over the cash, acting like the pathetic fool he thought I was. But that wasn't enough for him, was it? No. He wanted more. He told me we had to have sex if I really wanted him to "forgive" me.

How insane is that?

I was the offended one. I was the one insulted, degraded, disrespected. And yet, somehow, I was the one who had to apologize? Who had to pay? Who had to sleep with him to be forgiven?

And you know what?

I did it.

I did everything he asked.

And I have never felt more disgusted in my entire life.

Afterward, I scrubbed my skin raw, showering over and over, trying to rid myself of his touch. But no matter how much soap I used, no matter how hot the water was, I still felt filthy. Still felt his hands on me.

And Lucas? He thought everything was fine. Thought I had forgiven him. Thought I was still his little puppet. And did he stop his toxic, abusive bullshit? No. He doubled it. Tripled it. He made it worse. Because in his twisted mind, I was trapped. I had proven to him that no matter what he did, I wouldn't leave.

But he had no idea who he was messing with.

I played along. I let him believe he had broken me. I became exactly what he wanted—quiet, submissive, obedient. And in the background? I gathered proof. Evidence. Receipts. And when I was done? Oh, I was done.

I found out he wasn't just sleeping with his step-sister—he was screwing his cousin too. I nearly threw up when I found out. But I didn't react. I stayed patient. I dug deeper. And you know what I found? His father was cheating on his stepmom. His stepmom was cheating on his father. A whole dysfunctional mess of a family.

That was the best day of my life. Why? Because it meant I had extra leverage. I wasn't just going to take down Lucas. I was taking all of them down.

I didn't just talk like him—I talked with evidence. I had everything. Proof of his parents cheating. Videos of him cheating on me with his cousin and his step-sister while we were still together. I had everything. With just one click, I could take their lives from a hundred to zero.

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I watched him, smirking as I pulled out my phone. "Did you know," I said, voice calm but deadly, "that I have video proof of every single member of your family cheating on each other? And a nice little clip of you fucking your cousin and your step-sister?"