Divorce The Duke, Marry The King! Chapter 7: You are still my wife

"We should be able to sell this," Belle remarked as she and Mia carefully sorted through her collection of jewelry. They had spent hours packing items of value that could fetch a fair sum and had managed to gather quite a few.

"Thank goodness I did not refuse his gifts," Belle added with a wide smile, envisioning the amount of money the trinkets would bring. She had never cared much for extravagant things, but out of politeness, or perhaps reluctance to upset the Duke, she had always accepted them. Her initial intention had been to pass them on to those in need.

Who would have thought that *she* would one day be the one in need?

"My lady, shall we sell so of your gowns as well?" Mia suggested, her eyes gleaming greedily as they flicked toward Belle's wardrobe. She was already calculating the profit they might make from such fine garnts.

"No, we cannot," Belle replied firmly, shaking her head. "The gowns were purchased under the Duke's na, I have no claim to them. However, the shoes...those are mine, and they are valuable enough to sell." She revealed.

Mia's gaze lingered on the wardrobe a mont longer, but she didn't press the matter. Belle, anwhile, forced herself to look away from the gowns, her heart heavy. The truth was, she could never part with them, not because of their claim, but because of the promise she had made to Quinn long ago.

Before their relationship soured, Quinn had lavished her with gifts and had made her swear never to let another wear the gowns he had chosen for her. Though her feelings for him had grown bitter, her conscience would not allow her to break that vow. Better to return them than to sell them, she thought.

Mia opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by the sudden and violent flinging open of the door. The noise startled both won into a scream, and Mia clutched her chest as her heart raced.

"My lady, are you well?" Mia asked once the commotion had settled, hurrying to stand beside Belle.

"I am fine," Belle replied, glancing at Mia with concern. "What about you?"

Mia nodded shakily in response, but their attention quickly turned to the doorway. Both froze in shock as they saw Quinn standing there, his expression dark and his posture predatory, like a lion ready to strike.

"What are you doing?" Belle demanded, stepping forward despite the trembling in her hands. She glared at him, her voice sharp with defiance. Was he truly so enraged because she had not co down for breakfast?

"How dare you disrespect ?!" Quinn bellowed, storming into the room. His advance caused Belle to instinctively step back, her courage faltering under his piercing gaze.

Before Mia could intervene, Klaus stepped forward, grabbed her arm, and dragged her from the room. "Let us go," he said curtly, leaving Belle alone with the furious Duke.

"I do not want to eat! How is that a matter of disrespect?" Belle shouted, her voice trembling but bold. "I am starving myself, not you."

"Do not test , Belle," Quinn growled, halting his advance. His voice was low and nacing, each word laced with warning. "You are still my wife, and though I have agreed to divorce you, you remain the Duchess of this house. You have no right to stay locked in your chambers and make a mockery of !"

Belle's heart pounded, but she refused to retreat any further. Taking a deep breath, she balled her fists at her sides and t his gaze, saying, "I will not sit at that table and watch you dote on your new lover while pretending to eat like nothing has happened. That would be a humiliation far greater than staying in my room."

Her words hung in the air, the silence between them thick with tension. For a mont, neither spoke, the weight of her defiance settling heavily over them both.

Belle swallowed hard, her fear growing as she tried to decipher the thoughts racing through his obstinate mind. Was he considering rejecting her? Perhaps it was a blessing that she had defied him. If his anger drove him to cast her aside, she would no longer need the divorce papers to escape this nightmare.

"Is this so ploy of yours to force my hand into rejecting you?" His words cut through her thoughts like a blade, his perceptiveness catching her off guard. He knew her too well, and she inwardly cursed herself for being so transparent.

"I know not what you an," she replied, her voice trembling as she struggled to maintain her composure. "I simply have no appetite. Must you always tornt ? Leave be!" She exhaled sharply, praying he would not see past her fragile facade. She was teetering on the brink of breaking, her resolve crumbling as tears threatened to spill.

"Oh, Belle," he sneered, his voice dripping with mockery. "I know you better than you know yourself. You relied on so completely that I need no magic to discern your thoughts. I know everything about you...every secret, every scar, down to the birthmark upon your breast. I hold the power to shatter you or remake you as I please."

His cruel words struck her like a blow, and the smug smirk curling his lips made her chest ache with a familiar pain. How could she have ever entrusted her heart to such a man? He was no longer the Quinn she once loved—he was a monster, a broken beast.

Her breath quickened, and her legs faltered beneath her. Before she could collapse, his arms caught her, his grip firm.

"See? Just like always, Belle. You lean on , whether you wish to or not." He tightened his hold, his words a taunting reminder of her vulnerability.

"Let go, you beast!" she cried, summoning the last of her strength to push against him. But her efforts were futile as his grasp was unbreakable, and his proximity made her feel utterly powerless.

"You are mine, Belle," he growled, his voice low and nacing. "You will never escape . The divorce will not set you free. I shall grant you the illusion of freedom, only to snatch it away when you least expect it. Wherever you go, I will find you and destroy any happiness you dare to grasp."

Terror gripped her heart as his words sank in. This was not the man she had once known, he was now a complete stranger, cruel and cold. The warmth she had once felt in his touch had turned to ice, and now it repulsed her.

"I hate you!" She shouted, her voice filled with raw emotion. Summoning all her courage, she spat at him, hoping to ignite his rage and end this tornt.

But his reaction was far worse than she imagined. "No, Belle," he said darkly, his eyes glinting with malice. "You do not hate ...not yet."

With a sudden, vicious motion, the sound of fabric tearing filled the room.

"Ahh!" Belle scread, clutching at herself as Quinn ruthlessly tore her gown to shreds, leaving her exposed. She scrambled to the corner of the room, huddling against the wall, her arms wrapped tightly around her trembling body. Tears stread down her face as she sobbed uncontrollably, wishing desperately for her mother's protection. This horrifying mont brought back mories of her abusive father and the horrors she had endured in her youth.

"You will continue to play the devoted Duchess," he commanded, his voice sharp and unyielding. "And I trust you understand the consequences should you disobey again."

Belle could only nod, her sobs choking her response.

"Understood?!" he bellowed, his voice echoing off the walls.

"Y-yes..." she stamred, her voice barely audible as she quivered on the floor.

For a fleeting mont, sothing flickered in his eyes...regret, perhaps, but it vanished as quickly as it had appeared. Without another word, he turned and strode from the room, leaving Belle a broken, weeping ss on the cold floor.