Chapter 231: Burning the Past

“Can we eat now? I’m starving.” Sierra didn’t believe Jonathan’s excuse. Her gut told her whatever was in that notebook had something to do with her. “Jonathan, what’s in there?”

Jonathan pressed his lips together and stayed silent. Sierra reached for the notebook, but he dodged her hand. “Give it to me!” She was getting angry. But Jonathan still wouldn’t let go, and the tension between them thickened. He was trying to keep his composure, hoping she would give up. But Sierra wasn’t backing down. “Jonathan, give it to me!”

Her voice was calm, but this time, Jonathan’s face darkened. Mateo, sensing things were about to escalate, quickly stepped in. “Ma’am, it’s really nothing special—” He couldn’t even finish his sentence. Sierra’s cold stare shut him up immediately. “Jonathan, I have a right to know what concerns me.” She met his eyes, unyielding.

Jonathan held her gaze for a long moment before finally handing her the notebook. Sierra flipped it open. The first two pages meant nothing to her. But the moment she reached the main content, her pupils contracted. Then, she forced herself to stay calm. It was an observation journal. And she was the subject. It had documented everything that happened to her in prison over the past three years—written in a detached, clinical style.

She had barely read a page when Jonathan suddenly covered her eyes. “That’s enough,” he said, pulling the notebook from her hands and wrapping his arms around her. “I just didn’t want you to relive those horrors. Let me deal with it, okay?”

She simply let him hold her. Mateo and Dickson exchanged a look before quietly slipping away to Dickson’s room, leaving them alone. After a long silence, Sierra finally spoke. “I’m not as fragile as you think,” she said, exhaling slowly. “He sent this to deepen my trauma. And to piss you off. I won’t fall for it. I’m fine.”

Jonathan didn’t say anything. He didn’t tell her how deeply she still feared Shane. Instead, he gently rubbed her back, trying to pass his warmth to her. Even with the heat running, Sierra’s body was ice cold. Even now, she insisted she wasn’t afraid, always forcing herself to be strong. Jonathan’s rage burned hotter and hotter. He knew it wasn’t her fault, but he couldn’t stop the anger boiling inside him.

The thought of Sierra being treated like some experiment, documented like an object—he wanted nothing more than to burn that prison to the ground. Shane had succeeded. That bastard knew exactly how to hit where it hurt. He had completely enraged Jonathan.

Dinner was tasteless that night. Jonathan held Sierra in his arms, coaxing her to sleep. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t. Every time she closed her eyes, those memories came rushing back.

Eventually, Jonathan murmured, “If you can’t sleep… let’s do something else.” Then he flipped her over beneath him. Usually, Sierra would give in quickly, but tonight, she was different. She was relentless, almost desperate, using pain to push back the fear in her heart. She kept urging him to go harder, as if she needed to drown herself in sensation just to keep from falling apart.

The more she fought, the stronger Jonathan’s rage burned. His lips pressed into a thin line, and he poured all his fury into her. By dawn, Sierra had finally fallen asleep.

Jonathan kissed her forehead, then reached for the notebook hidden in the drawer. This was the part of her life he hadn’t been there for, the three years he hadn’t been able to uncover. Earlier, he had told her he would destroy it. She hadn’t objected. He knew she didn’t want him to read it.

After a long pause, he set the notebook down. Then, he quietly got out of bed and left the room. What he didn’t realize was that as soon as he left, Sierra opened her eyes. She watched his silhouette disappear through the doorway. After a moment’s hesitation, she slipped out of bed and followed.

From the hallway, she saw Jonathan enter the kitchen. He turned on the exhaust fan. Then, without hesitation, he set the notebook on fire. Sierra’s heart clenched. Her eyes stung. She had truly not wanted Jonathan to read that journal. It contained three years of humiliation. She had only skimmed one page, but she knew—Shane had recorded every last detail. Those three years, she had lived worse than an animal. She never wanted Jonathan to see that. Whether he pitied her or was disgusted by her, she didn’t want to see either reaction in his eyes.

She watched him from the shadows. Only when the last page had turned to ash did she silently return to bed.