Claimed By The Billionaire's Brother

CHAPTER 4

Elara felt violated and exposed, and she wished she could disappear into the air from this monster.

John didn't stop at that. He squeezed her breasts really hard and s*****d her ass, causing her to cry out in pain. She felt like she was nothing other than an object for him, like a play toy to use and abuse the way he saw fit.

He kissed her forcefully, his tongue invading her mouth as he thrust into her hard. Elara's body jerked in pain as she gripped the bedspread tightly, her mind screaming for help, screaming for him to please stop.

John continued to move inside of her as he took away her innocence in the most brutal way. He forced himself on her, as he kept beating and slapping her anytime she resisted.

She had always believed in the sanctity of love and the power of intimacy, but now it was all a lie.

Tears streamed down her face as John finished leaving her lying there, broken and alone. She has lost her virginity and innocence. She knew that nothing would ever be the same again.

John stood up, straightening his clothes while she lay there on the bed. She couldn't believe what had just happened.

“Go clean yourself up,” John spat, adjusting himself as he strode towards the door. “And don't you dare leave this room.”

Elara lay there for what seemed like an hour, unable to move or speak but just lost in her thoughts. She felt violated and empty.

As she tried to stand up, her legs shook as she looked down at her part to see her hymen had been cut loose and open.

She moved a bit towards the mirror, the face that stared back at her was a bruised and swollen lady with tears streaming down her cheek.

Her tears fell like rain as she saw her reflection in the mirror. The bruises on her skin seemed to pulse with pain, a constant reminder of what had just happened. She felt dirty and utterly disgusted with herself.

She stepped into the shower, turning on the water as hot as it would go. It felt good against her skin, soothing some of the aches from the bruises that covered her body. The water ran red as she washed away the blood from the cuts and her private parts.

She wrapped herself in a towel after she was done bathing. She looked at the bed, noticing the blood spots on the sheets. John had taken her virginity and didn't even care enough to be gentle, now she was left with physical and emotional scars that would take a long time to heal.

Suddenly, she heard a knock on the door, “Hey, Elara, it's Ethan. Can I come in?” Ethan asked as he talked to Elara from the outside.

Her heart skipped a beat on hearing Ethan's voice outside. She didn't know if she was ready to face him yet, but a part of her knows she needed to talk to someone, this moment.

Elara went ahead and opened the door. Ethan stood there looking worried and concerned, “Elara, are you okay?” he gazed at her bruised appearance.

Elara couldn't respond but nodded and stepped aside to allow Ethan in. Ethan entered and spotted the blood spots on the bedsheets, he knew immediately what it meant— John had abused her.

“I'm so sorry, Elara,” He apologized as he turned to her.

“No, Ethan,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s not your fault, and thanks for standing up for me earlier.”

Ethan looked at her, his eyes filled with guilt and pain.

“I know,” he said calmly. “But, if I hadn't joined you over there in the balcony, maybe this wouldn't have happened.”

Ethan tried to touch her cheek with his hands to help clean her tears, but she flinched from his touch. She pulled away, communicating her discomfort and distress. He quickly withdrew his hands, realizing that he had overstepped his boundaries.

“I am sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable,” he said softly.

Elara looked at him, her expression dull.

“It's…it's just that, I don't want you to touch me or sympathize with me right now, please.”

Ethan nodded, understanding why she acted that way.

“I appreciate that,” she muttered

“Okay, I will just leave,” he said. “Take all the time you need.”

“Thank you,”

Ethan gave her a small nod and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

Elara sat on the edge of her bed and brought out her phone from the drawer.

She went through her photos, her eyes filling with tears as she saw pictures of herself and her father, memories flooding back to her.

He was her protector, the only person whom she could truly confide in. He had passed away a few years ago, and she missed him dearly.

“I miss you so much, Dad,” she sobbed. “If only you and mum were here, I wouldn't be in this mess.”

Elara knew that her parents would never have allowed her to marry someone like John, who was abusive and controlling.

She dropped her phone and let out a deep sigh as she stood up from the bed and removed the bedspread that was stained with blood spots.

*********

That night, unable to sleep, Elara slipped out of her room in silence. The house was dark, the halls empty, and the storm in her chest still hadn’t passed. She just wanted to breathe—somewhere that didn’t smell like John. Somewhere that didn’t feel like a cage.

As she passed the hallway leading to the east wing, a faint golden light poured under a half-closed door.

Curious, drawn by something she couldn’t explain, she stepped closer.

The door was slightly ajar.

And inside… Ethan stood at a large canvas, brush in hand. She froze.

There was music playing low from an old speaker—soft piano, haunting and beautiful.

He didn’t see her at first. He was focused, moving slowly across the canvas, eyes narrowed in deep concentration. His shirt sleeves were rolled to the elbow, his hair slightly messy, and his expression—God, it was nothing like John’s.

It was peace.

And the painting…

It was a woman.