Two years ago…
Narrator
Love is many things.
It is beautiful, a battle, a wonder.
It is the hardest truth and the softest comfort.
Love is solid. It does not lie.
It does not steal, but it can drive you to steal.
It does not betray, but it demands trust.
It is worthy—expensive, never cheap.
Love is painful, yet it births joy.
It does not cheat, nor does it decay into lust or adultery.
Love is commitment. Love is surrender.
Love is brave, fierce enough to ignite violence,
wild enough to strip you of your sanity.
Love fights. Love wins. Love waits.
It craves. It endures. It is patient. It is jealous.
Love is not wicked, though it can consume you whole.
It is transparent, constant, sacrificial—
a force that cannot be bought or replaced.
Love is sweet. Love is mad.
It is slow to anger, yet capable of fire.
It obeys, and at times makes you disobey.
It is faithfulness, a trap, a blindness.
It is priceless and dangerous.
It exists.
And finally…
Love can make you set the universe ablaze for the sake of one soul.
Just as it did to one man.
A man who once scoffed at the very word.
A man who dismissed it, hated it,
whose blood ran hot at its mere mention.
A man who never gave it a second thought.
Who never spared an affectionate glance.
Who despised the four letters with his whole being.
That man was Sebastian.
But today—
Love has proven itself.
It has stayed.
It has transformed him.
It has marked him.
For the first time, love has conquered the man who once refused to believe in it.
Who said love doesn't exist?
Let that person go and test it.
Let them try it.
And see what it does.
See how powerful it can be.
For love traps.
It builds a cage so vast and merciless that once you step inside, you will never be free.
Take a hard look at what love has done to this man named Sebastian.
Look at the havoc it has driven him to commit.
Look at the changes it carved into him.
Love blindfolded him—
so much that he no longer knows who is family and who is not.
He is ready to fight tooth and nail for one soul.
One person. One human. One woman. One love.
No one, born of a woman, has ever witnessed him descend into such madness.
Never has he grown this wild, all in the name of love.
Everything he did—he did for her.
To tell the world how deeply he adored his woman.
His only love. The one.
The irreplaceable.
The eternal.
Inside his house was no longer a home.
It was a second version of hell itself.
A clone of the inferno unleashed upon earth.
There were gnashings of teeth.
Wails that tore through walls.
Screams steeped in pain.
Shouts drenched in horror.
Tears shed for mercy—though they knew no mercy could ever be found in his palms.
Sebastian did not listen.
He shut his ears to every plea.
The more they begged, the harsher the torment grew.
Pain stung like salt pressed into raw wounds.
He delivered it without pause, without mercy, painting their bodies blue and black.
Two girls—Kiki and Iretomiwa—
stripped bare, bound to a massive glass table, their backs arched and bellies pressed to its cold surface,
screaming as they received the beating of their lives.
Sharon—Sebastian's own blood, his younger sister—
was on her knees, pleading desperately for the lives of those she loved.
Beside her knelt her fiancé, Jide.
His hands lashed behind him.
A thick black cloth tied over his eyes.
Blood pouring from his nostrils.
His chest heaving as though this breath might be his last on earth.
Perhaps it was.
Perhaps not.
Only fate could decide now.
Jide had been beaten into such a stupor that he could hardly recall his own name.
He had no hand in the ambush, no blood on his conscience—yet here he was, enduring torment for a crime he knew nothing about.
Yes. This was Sebastian's choice.
If his lover would not watch him suffer, then she would suffer by watching him—by witnessing the cruelty done to him. Her pain would mirror his.
The mansion had become a fortress of torment.
Bodyguards stood like shadows—some outside, sealing the grounds, others inside, watching every movement with sharp eyes.
Two of them lashed Kiki and Iretomiwa with a whip made of seven canes, each strike tearing through their screams.
Two more tortured Jide further, ensuring he never forgot the agony.
And Antoni?
He sat sprawled on the velvet couch, phone in hand, absorbed in his Candy Crush game—completely unfazed, popping candies while screams painted the air.
Meanwhile, in Elizabeth's apartment, Bianca's fingers trembled over her phone. She called Antoni again and again, but he ignored each attempt. When her customized caller ID flashed on his screen, he only rolled his eyes and hit decline.
Bianca frowned, worry tightening her chest. She knew it had something to do with the justice issue. Antoni refused to pick up because he knew her voice—just one word from her—could coax him into persuading Sebastian to end it all. But no, not yet. Not when the battle had barely begun. Antoni wanted these intruders to bleed a little more.
As Bianca's persistence grew, Antoni smirked, switched his phone to airplane mode, and went back to his game.
Across the room, Natasha pressed a cold pack of ice against Elizabeth's swollen cheek. It wasn't a wound, not really—just puffed and flushed, like a cherry, painfully tender. The ice dulled the redness, slowly easing the heat from her skin.
Bianca turned, frustrated, reporting to her friends that Antoni wasn't answering her calls. Elizabeth, who had also tried Sebastian's number, whispered that his was switched off.
Back in the hell house—
Sebastian stood motionless, facing a thick wall. His eyes were half-shut, cigarette smoke curling from his lips. The smoke was heavy, dense enough to cloud his face, as though a fog had descended over him. No one near could truly read his expression.
He exhaled slowly, his chest rising and falling like a man contemplating the weight of his next move. In one hand, a glass of red wine caught the light. He sipped it quietly, eyes now wide open, blank yet dangerous, staring into the wall before him.
His gaze drifted lower to the fire heater, flames licking within, warming the chamber. Then his eyes climbed again, fixing on the sculpture of a fire-breathing dragon perched above the wall—an omen, an emblem, watching him in silence.
Yes.
That was him now.
What his soul had become—what he truly was in another form.
His strength. His fire. Unconsumable.
Not every fire can be quenched with water.
Some flames demand sand to suffocate them.
Some require detergent to subside.
Others, wet cloth to be smothered.
But his fire? His demanded love.
And since that love had been tampered with…
He would make sure it never happened again.
"Again!" he barked.
Two men in black suits seized Jide, forcing his head into a massive bowl of ice-cold water.
The man fought between life and death, his muffled cries bubbling under the surface. He writhed, desperate to free himself, but his hands were tied too tightly, his body pinned by the strength of the guards. For two endless minutes they kept him submerged—until his body jerked violently. Only then did they yank him back up, gasping, choking, his nostrils flooding with water.
Sharon's heart broke at the sight. She could not bear to see her fiancé—her love—tortured second by second. She fell forward on her knees, her cries piercing.
"Sebastian, please! Spare my fiancé—spare my friends. I swear, I'll never touch your girlfriend again!"
Noise. Babbling. Nagging. Crying. Screaming.
The five things Sebastian hated most.
Noise scattered his mind. It stole his focus. It blurred his concentration. He loathed it.
He turned at last, smoke curling from his lips, rage stretched across his bloodshot eyes. His voice cut through the air like steel.
"Take her phone."
A bodyguard stepped forward.
"Enter her social media. Go live. Film them—only them. Make sure the entire world sees it. Tag everyone. I don't care who. Let the universe watch."
Sharon's eyes widened in terror. They raced from Sebastian to the guard, then back to him again.
"No! No, Sebastian, please! Don't do this to me. Please!"
Humiliation. That's what it would be.
Her name, her face—streaming live.
Her fans. Her colleagues. Her employees at the company.
They would all see. They would all know.
Her downfall broadcast to the world.
Maybe Sharon had always heard the whispers.
Stories about her brother—how dangerous he was, how violent, how merciless.
But she never believed them. Not truly.
Not until this day.
Not until she became a victim herself.
"Keep his head under water for thirty seconds."
Sebastian raised his glass, sipping wine as if the scene before him was nothing more than background noise.
Sharon felt like her chest would cave in.
"Seb, please… I'm begging you, please. It won't happen again, I swear—"
"Forty."
The men pressed Jide's head deeper. His body convulsed, thrashing in panic.
"No! Please!" Sharon's voice cracked. Her throat burned. Her eyes threatened to burst from the force of her screaming.
"Fifty."
"Jesus! God, save us—"
"Sixty."
"Mommy, please! Somebody help us! Seb, no! My fiancé will die—Lord, no!"
Sebastian's eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening. "One hour."
Sharon's cry tore through the room.
"Lord!!! Sebastian! Ple—"
"An hour and thirty."
His voice was a blade, calm and sharp. His dangerous gaze locked on his baby sister. His words dripped with venom, yet carried a twisted mockery.
"Keep talking, Sharon. Every word triggers his death note. Besides… he'll be family once he marries you, won't he? And then I'll be his future brother-in-law—" he smirked faintly, "—that's if he survives. So let him pass my little brotherly test, hm?"
Sharon's strength broke. Her eyes were swollen, her body trembling, her lungs raw from sobbing. She was choking on her own tears, struggling to breathe.
She had never expected this from him—her own stepbrother.
Had she known, she would have abandoned her plans long ago.
But she made one fatal mistake: she thought Sebastian would be indifferent.
She thought he would never care, never love.
And because she believed that lie… she was wrong.
Now she knew.
Now Sharon understood what love could do to a man.
Love had turned her brother into a beast.
For her, this was a slow death. A painful one. Watching her future husband's head forced under icy water, his strength bleeding away with each second, his body trembling, growing weaker—until soon, he would give up altogether.
They were all doomed tonight.
Her two best friends were already suffering the worst. Sharon could not erase the sight—their backs, their flesh, peeling with each lash of the cane. Every strike sent blood spattering, every whip digging deeper until their bodies grew limp. Still, another blow would come, jerking them back into consciousness, wringing fresh screams from their throats.
And it was her fault.
She had dragged them into this.
She remembered their warnings the very first time she whispered her plan.
They told her not to. They begged her to leave it alone.
But she hadn't listened.
And now, look.
"Sebastian… please…" Sharon's voice cracked as her tears streamed freely. Her hands clasped together, trembling in supplication. "Remember—I was the one who made you know her. You only met Elizabeth through me—through the errand I gave her, when you said you needed a chauffeur. Sebastian… I'm sorry. I didn't know what got into me. Please…"
Sebastian's lips curled into a cruel mimicry of pity. He tilted his head, feigning a pathetic look.
"What? You saying something? Talking to me?" He puffed a long drag of smoke, his eyes dead with disdain. "Oh, sorry. I can't hear you right now."
Then his voice dropped, sharp and venomous.
"Increase the force on the girls. You're not whipping them to my satisfaction. I want their skin torn. I want their blood staining my floor."
"Sebastian, please—" Sharon crawled forward, reaching for the hem of his trousers.
A guard's hand struck her across the face, snapping her head to the side. Her body collapsed, her palms crashing against the cold marble. Her tears splashed onto the floor like rain, soaking into the stone.
Jide turned his blindfolded face toward her. Though he could not see, he felt her pain. He heard it. And shame stabbed into him. He was her man—yet he was powerless to protect her. Too weak, too broken, reduced to nothing.
Sharon's sobs rose into the air, raw and childlike.
Sebastian's patience snapped.
"Shut up!" His voice thundered, rage flashing in his eyes. "I hate noise, and you're choking my ears with it."
He turned to the men punishing Jide. His words were cold, merciless.
"Give him fifty strokes of the cane."
Jide's chest tightened. His spirit nearly gave way. And then, desperate, he forced the words out, broken, gasping, panting.
"Be… beli… believe me… I didn't ask her to do it. I swear…"
His voice cracked. His breath stuttered. Each word came like shards of glass tearing through his throat.
"God," Sebastian muttered with a low whine, dragging a hand down his face. If not for the love of Elizabeth—the woman who had reined in the last string of his restraint—he would have already pulled the gun from his back pocket and buried a bullet squarely into Jide's forehead.
"These noises in my ears…" His voice cracked like thunder. "For that reason—make it a hundred."
"Sebastian, please!" Sharon cried out, her voice splitting. "I was only being childish. Forgive him, I beg you!"
But her begging only fanned the flames. It did not lessen the punishment; it increased it.
The whip came down with a savage crack, tearing through Jide's bloodstained shirt, searing into the bare flesh beneath. He screamed, his voice echoing like a man whose soul was being ripped apart.
Sebastian's lips pressed into a thin, merciless line. His daggered gaze pinned Sharon where she knelt.
"You called my woman a whore. How dare you? You wrecked her car—how dare you? You called her poor and wretched. How dare you? You insulted her family. How dare you? You called her cheap. How dare you? And worst of all—you took scissors to her hair… my pride, my beauty in her. HOW. DARE. YOU, SHARON!"
Sharon's body trembled violently. Her voice cracked into sobs. "I'm sorry… I truly am sorry for my misfortune…"
Sebastian leaned closer, lowering his tone, his words sharp enough to cut her soul. "No. You're not sorry."
Her swollen eyes lifted to him, pleading. "I am—"
He shook his head slowly, his voice pitched low, audible for her alone. "You wanted to see my reaction."
"No—"
"You wanted to test me. To see what I would do for her. To see what I'm capable of when it comes to Elizabeth."
Her tears streamed hot, her voice trembling. "No, no, Sebastian—I swear I would never—"
His hand swept through the smoke around him as he gestured at the chaos, at the blood and screams staining his walls.
"This…" His voice vibrated with menace. "This is just the tip of the iceberg."
"Sebas—"
"Just the cherry on top of the damn cake, my beloved sister. That's what you're seeing now."
Sebastian smirked, lips curling as smoke drifted from between his teeth. "You know me so well. You know what I can do—yet you still dared to test me. You thought being my sister gave you an advantage. That I wouldn't touch you." He clicked his tongue, a cold sound that cut through Sharon's sobs. "Tsk."
Sharon shook her head violently, tears spilling down her cheeks. "No! I didn't test you. I never meant it this way. I was stupid, Sebastian. It was a mistake—I swear it!"
Sebastian's gaze sharpened, hard as steel. "Nobody touches my woman and goes scot-free. No one. She is the apple of my eye. Anyone who lays a hand on her—or her family—lays a hand on me. And they will pay the price in full."
He stubbed his cigarette into the ashtray, smoke curling upward as he rolled up his sleeves with deliberate calm.
"I swear to you, it will never happen again. I promise!" Sharon's voice cracked into hysteria. She knew. She knew what was coming.
Sebastian's grin spread, dark and devilish. "You're right. There will be no next time—because I'll make sure of it now."
His gaze slid toward the corner. "Hendrix. Heat the iron."
Sharon's scream ripped through the room. "No! Mommy! Jesus Christ, no! God almighty, please! NO!!!"
The guard lifted the electric pressing iron, its red glow flaring as it burned hotter. Sharon's throat tore with her cries, but her pleas were nothing against Sebastian's command.
Jide remained blindfolded. He couldn't see the weapon, couldn't tell if it was meant for him or his fiancée. His body stiffened with terror.
Sebastian's voice was ice. "Press it on his bare back. Don't turn it off until he's cooked."
Then the iron seared down.
"ARRRGGGHHH!!!" Jide's scream shattered the air, raw and animal, as the burning steel bit into his flesh. The room filled with the sickening stench of scorched skin—an odor thick and nauseating, like charred meat.
Sharon almost collapsed. Her body gave way, but death would not take her. She was trapped in this nightmare, forced to watch. Numb. Mute. Her hands trembled violently, her mouth hanging open in silent horror.
When the iron was withdrawn, her eyes landed on the wound—her fiancé's back now a grotesque, bubbling sore, blistered into the very shape of the retreating iron.
Her scream died in her throat.
Her soul shattered in silence.
Now Sharon finally understood.
The brother she once defended, once adored—was nothing less than a devil wrapped in flesh.
"I like that," Sebastian drawled, lips curving wide as he sipped from his wine glass. His eyes glittered with perverse amusement. "Your fiancé is strong. Still breathing after all this? Impressive. Nice choice, Sharon. I'd hand you a gun to finish him yourself, but no." He tilted the glass, savoring the bitter taste. "For Mother's sake, I'll spare him—for now. I don't want her wailing that I slaughtered her precious future son-in-law. But you?" His smile hardened. "You touched my Elizabeth first. And that was your mistake."
He chuckled darkly, shaking his head. "It's like a monkey wearing a crown—laughable, pathetic. What a shame, Sharon. You knew she was the woman I love. The woman I will marry. And yet, you laid a hand on her? Tell me, why shouldn't I return the favor? If you can wound the one I love, why can't I burn the ones you love? Trade by pattern. Verse versa. Simple." He laughed again, cruel and hollow.
Sharon sagged against the chair, her body trembling. She was too weak to answer, too broken to plead. Death would have been mercy. But mercy was nowhere in this room.
A buzzing phone cut through the silence. Danny approached, holding it out. "Boss, Ms. Barros wants to speak with you."
Sebastian didn't even glance at it. His eyes stayed fixed on the rim of his glass as he rolled the wine lazily. "Don't answer."
Danny hesitated. "But, Boss—"
"Are you deaf!?" Sebastian's roar cracked like a whip. His fury lashed out, raw and unchecked.
That was Antoni's cue. He straightened, sliding his own phone aside, his voice calm yet edged with urgency. "Brother… you should answer. Bianca's been calling me non-stop too. It has to be about Elizabeth."
Sebastian's eyes flickered to the dragon sculpture carved into the wall. For a moment, his jaw clenched, his mind torn. He knew. He knew she was out there, worried, restless—her heart pacing for him. For him.
Ah, Elizabeth. His Serena. His only love. The woman who melted his rage and set his soul aflame. The only one he wanted children with. The only one who could scold him and make him bow his head. The one who taught him to pray, to wash his hands before eating, to honor small rituals he'd once mocked. The one who had given him her innocence, her everything. The one who turned his world of blood and iron into something he could almost call life.
His breath hitched. His Queen. His breath of life.
Shame pricked his chest. He had kept her waiting. He had ignored her call.
Spinning around abruptly, he held out his hand. "Give it." His voice softened—urgent, almost desperate.
The guard obeyed.
Sebastian swiped the screen without hesitation, pressing the phone close.
"My Queen," he breathed. The words tasted like devotion, like the vow he had carried in silence ever since the night he had claimed her.
He waited for her voice. When it finally came, it was fragile—laced with tears and pain.
And in an instant, it broke him.
"Seb… I've been calling you forever. Why won't you answer me?" Her voice trembled with worry—for him, and for the ones he held in his grip.
Shame flushed through him. His chest tightened. He hated himself in that moment—for ignoring her, for making her cry. "I'm… I was busy, my love," he muttered. The lie tasted bitter on his tongue.
Busy, yes. Busy dragging souls into hell.
"Sebastian," she whispered, her breath catching, "I just saw Bianca's post… Sharon, the girls, her fiancé—they're with you, aren't they? I know this is you. But please, baby… let them go. Spare them. For my sake, honey. Please."
Her plea sank into him like a blade. One glance at his men, and without a word, they backed away.
"Honey? Are you there? Can you hear me? I said spare them." Her insistence pressed against his silence, pulling him back from the abyss.
If not for her, they'd already be corpses buried under his walls. But Elizabeth was their grace, their only salvation.
"I want to come," she added softly, "but Bruce won't let me leave the house."
Sebastian exhaled slowly, shoulders easing as if the storm inside him finally bent to her will. "It's okay, my Queen. I've heard you. I'll do exactly as you command."
Relief flooded her tone. "Thank you, honey."
The call ended. And just like that, his rage dissolved into nothing.
Sebastian's gaze swept his men, voice cold but controlled. "Release them. Throw them outside the gates. I never want to see them again." His eyes fixed on Sharon, sharp as blades. "Thank your stars your future sister-in-law is not cruel like me. She just saved you and your clan. But hear me—if you ever whisper a word of this to Mother, I'll skin your fiancé alive before your eyes. If she wants answers, she comes to me."
---
Meanwhile, Elizabeth grew more restless with every passing second. She paced the living room, back and forth, her mind refusing to settle. She had spoken to him, begged him, and he had promised to let things slide—yet the unease in her chest wouldn't fade. Something told her he hadn't kept his word.
She knew her man too well. Sebastian was stubborn to the bone—unyielding, hard-skinned, and never easily persuaded.
On the couch, Bianca and Natasha exchanged weary glances. They had tried to calm her, reassure her, but she wouldn't listen.
"Lizzy, relax," Natasha sighed, sinking deeper into the cushions.
"I can't," Elizabeth snapped, rubbing her temples. Her voice cracked under the weight of her nerves. "How can I? Didn't you see that video on Facebook? He'll kill them. He didn't even spare Sharon. For God's sake—she's his little sister."
"But you just spoke to him," Bianca reminded gently. "He agreed to back down."
Elizabeth swung around to face them, hands planted on her hips. "That's in my absence. I'm not there to see it with my own eyes. You both know Seb—he's a serial killer and a lover in the same body."
"Of course he is," Natasha muttered under her breath, "but he'll retreat. You've got him wrapped around your pinky finger."
Elizabeth frowned, frustration etching her features. "When I begged him to stop his bloodshed on that bridge, he didn't listen. He still went against my wishes. And now you're both making it sound like I bewitched him."
Bianca raised her finger like a schoolgirl reciting the obvious. "That's because you did, girl. You're his only cure, his only medicine."
Just then, Bruce—who had been standing guard outside the door for hours—knocked, his voice deep and steady.
"Ms. Barros? My boss is here."
Sebastian?
Elizabeth froze, her chest heaving. Then a rush of relief escaped her lips. "Good Lord… finally." He had listened. He had let them go. Thank God.
"You see?" Natasha nudged her with a smug grin. "I told you to relax. He's retreated and come to rescue his princess from this cheap hostage castle." She wiggled her brows mischievously.
Bianca, however, bolted inside to grab her makeup kit, quickly dabbing on blush and gloss. She knew Antoni would be walking in beside Sebastian, and she wasn't about to be caught unprepared.
The door creaked open, and Sebastian stepped in with Antoni at his side.
The moment his eyes met Elizabeth's, a smile softened his sharp features. "Hello, my queen."
"Seb." She rushed into his arms, clinging tightly. He pressed a tender kiss to her forehead.
"You scared me," she whispered against his chest. "That was too much… too much pain you inflicted."
Sebastian tilted her chin up, his thumb brushing her cheek. "That was to prove how much I love you."
Her lips parted in disbelief, her blush deepening. "But it was too much, honey. You would've killed them if I hadn't called."
He poked the tip of her nose, a sly smile tugging at his lips. "At least your charm worked. Letting people go easily? That's not in my diary. I rarely do it… especially when someone dares to cross the line with you."
Elizabeth's face flushed hotter. She buried herself against his chest, hiding. "Please don't do that again. I almost died of panic."
He bent to kiss her forehead, then lifted her face gently and brushed his lips against hers, slow and soft. "It's okay, my queen. I won't make promises I can't keep. But for now…" His hand caressed her back, possessive yet tender. "Let's go home."