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And the Sky Broke Open When Love Forgot Where to Belong by Elen Ryn Mora 41

And the Sky Broke Open When Love Forgot Where to Belong by Elen Ryn Mora 41

And the Sky Broke Open When Love Forgot Where to Belong by Elen Ryn Mora 41 Summary

In Chapter 2 of “And the Sky Broke Open When Love Forgot Where to Belong,” the protagonist, Evelyn Black, finds herself in a tense confrontation with Bianca, a brash and aggressive woman. The chapter opens with Evelyn’s sardonic reaction to Bianca’s absurd claims of power, which leads to a physical altercation. Evelyn, trained in martial arts, easily sidesteps Bianca’s slap, showcasing her confidence and strength. Despite the crowd’s excitement at the spectacle, Evelyn’s irritation grows as she just wants to leave the scene, but Bianca’s persistence forces her to confront the situation further.

As the confrontation escalates, a deep voice interrupts, revealing Charles Whitmore, the man Evelyn is supposed to be dating. Evelyn is initially intrigued by his striking appearance, but her hopes are quickly dashed when he dismisses her due to her age and status. His disdainful remarks about her being a twenty-eight-year-old virgin hit her hard, shattering her self-esteem. Evelyn’s pride in her dignity and standards is challenged, leading to a heated exchange where she asserts her refusal to marry someone like Charles, whom she views as beneath her.

The atmosphere thickens with judgment as onlookers chime in, ridiculing Evelyn and labeling her as a desperate spinster. This public humiliation amplifies her feelings of frustration and anger, highlighting the societal pressures and expectations placed on women regarding age and desirability. Evelyn’s resolve hardens as she stands her ground, vowing never to marry Charles, despite the derision from Bianca and the crowd. The chapter encapsulates her struggle against both personal and societal challenges, emphasizing her fierce independence and unwillingness to conform to the expectations of others.

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**And the Sky Broke Open When Love Forgot Where to Belong**
**by Elen Ryn Mora**

**Chapter 2**

What an absolute farce.

Once upon a time, such a line would have rolled off the tongues of the notorious Black Viper Syndicate, a name that sent shivers down the spines of many.

And now, here it was, hurled at me like a projectile?

A sardonic chuckle escaped my lips as I narrowed my gaze, fixing it on the source of this absurdity.

“You genuinely believe you hold some power just because you’re lurking in the shadow of Charles Whitmore? I highly doubt he would utter something so utterly foolish. So tell me, who the hell do you think you are?”

“What the hell?!”

“Yes, I’m saying you’re an idiot.”

“You witch!”

In a flash, she raised her hand, aiming for my cheek with a slap that would have left many reeling. But I was quicker, sidestepping her attack, and she tumbled to the ground with a thud.

“Wow, Bianca. One harsh remark and you go full-on dramatic with a faceplant? I appreciate the dedication to the performance.”

She scrambled to her feet, her face flushed with rage, and pointed an accusatory finger at me, her voice dripping with venom. “You’ll regret this!”

I responded with a flat tone, devoid of emotion, “If you don’t clean up that filthy mouth of yours, I might just offer to help you with it.”

Thanks to my father, I had been trained by some of the finest martial arts instructors in the country.

Women like Bianca? I could easily handle three of her with one hand tied behind my back.

Her bravado faltered under my piercing glare, and she fell silent, a glimmer of uncertainty flickering in her eyes.

As the crowd swelled around us, their eyes wide with curiosity and excitement, I felt a wave of irritation wash over me.

I had no desire to entertain a spectacle for these onlookers.

With a sigh, I bent down to retrieve my card from the floor, paid for the bag I had been holding, and turned to make my exit.

But of course, Bianca had other plans, stepping in front of me once more.

This was her final opportunity.

I lifted my foot, ready to shove her aside with a forceful kick.

“Stop!”

A deep, authoritative voice resonated from behind me, halting me in my tracks.

Bianca, sensing her moment, immediately transformed her expression into one of feigned distress, rushing over to the source of the voice.

“Mr. Whitmore, thank heavens you’re here! She’s been tormenting me this entire time…”

**Chapter 2**

As I turned around, I couldn’t help but understand why my father had insisted I would find this guy appealing.

He stood tall, with broad shoulders and long legs, his sharp jawline giving him an air of undeniable masculinity.

He looked like he had stepped out of a magazine, a quintessential hunk.

Alright, I’d grant him one more chance, solely based on his looks.

With a bright smile, I introduced myself, “Mr. Whitmore? I’m Evelyn Black, your date arranged for today. I trust your father mentioned me?”

Charles Whitmore’s father had once been a mere footnote under my father’s command, a nobody in the grand scheme of things.

It was only due to my father’s keen eye for potential that the Whitmore family had risen to prominence.

Charles surveyed me, his gaze lingering from head to toe, before he sneered with disdain.

“Twenty-eight and still a virgin? Sorry, not my type.”

His words struck me like a slap across the face.

So, being twenty-eight automatically made me undesirable?

I prided myself on my standards, my dignity, and my self-control.

And this was the treatment I received?

“Did you eat something foul before arriving here? Or are you just naturally cursed with a filthy mouth? What happened to basic manners?”

His expression darkened, and he shot back, “Manners? For someone like you?”

“I don’t care what you did to end up in my father’s sights. I will never marry some backwoods hick like you.”

Bianca, ever the opportunist, looped her arm through his, a smug smirk plastered on her face. “With that ugly mug, do you honestly think you’re worthy of a man like Charles?”

The crowd, eager for drama, chimed in immediately.

“Look at her outfit… probably worth less than a hundred bucks.”

“And she thinks she can marry Charles Whitmore? What a joke!”

“She’s just a desperate spinster. Someone should douse her with cold water to bring her back to reality.”

I may not have been a world-class beauty, but I certainly wasn’t hideous either.

Yet here they were, labeling me as some ugly spinster.

This world truly contorted itself to accommodate men.

Crossing my arms, I shot back with icy resolve, “I would never, ever marry you. Go tell your father I’m not interested.”

Conclusion

In the aftermath of the chaotic encounter, Evelyn stood amidst the swirling judgments of the crowd, a sense of clarity washing over her. The sting of Charles Whitmore’s words lingered, but it was the venomous laughter of Bianca and the onlookers that truly pierced her heart. They had reduced her to a caricature, a desperate figure unworthy of love or respect. Yet, as she faced the jeering crowd, a flicker of defiance ignited within her. She realized that their perceptions did not define her worth. Evelyn, with her pride intact, had taken a stand against the very expectations that sought to confine her, and in doing so, she began to reclaim her narrative.

As she walked away, leaving behind the echoes of their laughter, Evelyn felt a newfound strength surging through her veins. This was not merely about a failed introduction or a misguided date; it was about her journey toward self-acceptance and empowerment. The world may have tried to box her in, but she was determined to break free from its constraints. With each step, she understood that love, true love, was not something to be bartered or won; it was a space where she could be unapologetically herself. And so, with the sky above her vast and open, she embraced the uncertainty of what lay ahead, ready to forge a path where love would find its rightful place—within her own heart first.

What to Expect in Next Chapter?

In the next chapter, readers can expect the tension to escalate as Evelyn finds herself caught in a web of societal expectations and personal desires. With her fiery spirit ignited by Charles Whitmore’s dismissive remarks, she is determined to stand her ground against the mockery of the crowd and the manipulative games of Bianca. As she navigates this treacherous social landscape, Evelyn will confront not only her feelings about love and marriage but also the deeper implications of her family’s legacy and the pressures of her upbringing. Will she continue to defy the expectations placed upon her, or will the allure of power and prestige lead her down a path she never intended to tread?

Moreover, the arrival of Charles Whitmore promises to complicate Evelyn’s life even further. His initial disdain may mask a more intricate character, and as their interactions unfold, the dynamic between them could shift dramatically. Will Evelyn’s defiance spark a hidden interest in Charles, or will it only deepen the chasm between their worlds? As alliances form and rivalries intensify, the stakes will rise, leading to unexpected revelations that could change everything. Prepare for a chapter filled with sharp dialogue, gripping confrontations, and the tantalizing possibility of romance amidst chaos. The sky may have broken open, but the real storm is just beginning.

And the Sky Broke Open When Love Forgot Where to Belong by Elen Ryn Mora

And the Sky Broke Open When Love Forgot Where to Belong by Elen Ryn Mora

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And the Sky Broke Open When Love Forgot Where to Belong by Elen Ryn Mora

“The Woman Who Fell for an Iceberg”

They called her the untamable beauty of Zephyra.
Olivia Westbrook—a name that tasted like champagne and danger.

With a single glance, she could silence a room. Her beauty wasn’t delicate or soft; it was the kind that burned. People said men lined up like moths to her flame, each ready to lose everything just for her attention. But Olivia never cared. She moved through high society like a wild wind—dazzling, distant, untouchable.

Until the night her best friend made a careless bet that would rewrite her life.

“Liv, if you can make my uncle Damien fall for you, I’ll give you any of my cars. Name your prize.”

Olivia laughed, amused.
Damien Harrington—the man in question—was a legend.
CEO of Harrington Group, brilliant and ruthless, his mere signature could shift the market. He was also famous for his frost: cold, disciplined, impossible to tempt. No woman had ever lasted in his orbit long enough to melt him. Rumor had it he didn’t even look twice at anyone at the endless charity galas thrown in his name.

For Olivia, that made him irresistible. She’d never failed a challenge.
She accepted the bet with a confident smile and no hesitation.


The Beginning of the Bet

What she didn’t expect was fate’s cruel sense of humor.

On the very first night she crossed paths with him, she found Damien not in his usual composed state but drugged—his control stripped away, eyes glazed with pain and heat. She’d only meant to tease him, to start the game. Instead, she became his unwilling salvation.

That night changed everything.

By dawn, the infamous iceberg of the business world had cracked. And from that single accident, a storm began—three years of passion that consumed them both.

Behind closed doors, their chemistry was explosive.
In his office with its floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city.
In his jet’s private cabin high above the clouds.
In places no one dared to imagine.

The man who was once distant now couldn’t get enough of her. And Olivia—so sure of her independence—found herself falling. Slowly, deeply, helplessly.

She told herself it was just fun, just the thrill of winning.
But love crept in quietly—through small gestures, quiet moments, and the rare softness in his eyes when he looked at her.

She began to believe that maybe she had done the impossible.
That Damien Harrington, the untouchable king, might actually belong to her.


The Sapphire Cufflink

Three years passed like a fever dream.
Then, one ordinary night, the illusion shattered.

After a stolen hour together in his car, Olivia noticed one of his sapphire cufflinks had fallen onto the seat. Smiling, she picked it up, intending to return it before leaving the hotel. She could already picture his small, almost imperceptible smirk when she handed it to him.

Down the dim hallway, she heard laughter behind a half-open door—the low, masculine sound of Damien’s associates. Then came a voice she knew too well, teasing and sharp.

“Damien, just finished with her, huh? Olivia’s always been a wildcat. Around you she turns soft. Makes me want to steal her away.”

More laughter followed.

And then someone asked the question that froze her blood.

“When are you going to marry her?”

For one suspended heartbeat, the world stopped.
Olivia’s breath caught.
Her heart, suddenly weightless, waited for his answer.

It came cold and clear, the same voice that had once whispered against her skin.

“It was just a fling. Why would I marry her?”

Ten words—light, casual, devastating.
They cut through her like ten shards of ice.

Silence followed, awkward and heavy. Even his friends seemed stunned.
Someone finally murmured, almost disbelieving:

“No way. Three years? You can’t still be hung up on your first love…”

First love?
The words rang in Olivia’s ears, foreign and cruel.
He has a first love?

Before she could process, Damien spoke again, his tone indifferent but tinged with something dangerous—nostalgia.

“When we broke up, she asked for three years. Time to try other people. If we still felt the same after that, we’d get back together.”

“She’s always been dramatic,” he continued. “Insecure. I went along with it. It’s been three years. I’ve tried.”
“She should be back by now.”

The floor seemed to tilt beneath Olivia’s feet.
Her body went cold, her fingertips trembling.

Three years.
The same three years she had spent giving him everything—her time, her pride, her heart—had all been just a placeholder.
He had been waiting for someone else.
And she… she had merely filled the gap.


The Confrontation

A hot roar filled her ears. Before she realized it, her hand was on the door.

Bang!
The heavy door slammed open.

Conversation stopped. Heads turned.
And there she was—Olivia Westbrook, standing in the doorway, her eyes wild, face pale, beauty turned feral with pain.

The laughter died instantly.
At the far end of the table sat Damien Harrington, immaculate in his tailored suit, posture perfect, eyes calm. He didn’t even flinch.

That calmness—the same stillness that once made her feel safe—now gutted her. If he felt anything for her, even an ounce, he would have looked startled, guilty, human.
But he only watched her, unreadable.

She took a step forward.
Her heels clicked like gunshots on marble.

“Damien,” she said, her voice raw, trembling. “Don’t you have anything to say to me?”

His gaze didn’t waver.

“Nothing to say,” he replied, voice smooth and detached. “Just what you heard.”

Each word sliced cleanly, leaving no room for hope.

“We were just a fling. I thought you knew that.”

Gasps rippled around the room. Olivia’s vision blurred.
But he wasn’t done.

He reached into his jacket, pulled out a sleek black card, and placed it on the table, the motion deliberate and slow.

“Here. A hundred million dollars.”

Her eyes widened.

“Consider it payment for the last three years at my beck and call.”

Then came the faintest curve of his lips—mocking, final.

“From now on, it’s over between us.”

He stood, ready to walk away as if she were a business deal concluded, a file closed and archived.


“But I’ve Fallen for You”

Rage, disbelief, heartbreak—all collided inside her.
As he brushed past, she reached out instinctively and clamped her hand around his wrist.

Her grip was iron, trembling yet unyielding. Her skin felt cold, bloodless.
He stopped but didn’t look at her.

And then came the words—shaking, desperate, tearing through the suffocating air.

“But… I’ve fallen for you!”

Her voice cracked, raw and naked.
Every eye in the room turned toward her, but she didn’t care. The proud, invincible Olivia Westbrook—who had never begged anyone for anything—was now pleading for the one thing she couldn’t buy.

“Damien, I’ve fallen for you!”

Memories flooded her mind like a cruel montage:

The winter morning he’d knelt to slip warm slippers onto her frozen feet because she was too lazy to move.
The night of her appendectomy when she’d opened her eyes to see him slumped beside her hospital bed, dark circles under his eyes.
The thunderstorms she feared—how he’d always pull her into his arms, whispering that the sound couldn’t hurt her.

She’d mistaken those moments for love.
Every laugh, every glance, every brush of his fingers—she’d built a world out of them.

And now, with one sentence, he had torn that world apart.

“Damien,” she whispered, voice trembling. “You’re so cruel.”

For a fleeting instant, something flickered in his eyes—pity, perhaps—but it vanished just as quickly when his phone buzzed.


The Message

He glanced at the screen, and Olivia caught the name before he could hide it.

[Damien, it’s been three years. I tried, but I still only love you. Let’s get back together.]

The words glowed like fire in the dim room.

Everything inside Olivia went silent.
So she was back—the first love, the woman who had left him with promises of reunion. The reason Olivia had been nothing more than a temporary distraction.

Damien stared at the message for a heartbeat longer, then sighed softly.
When he finally looked at Olivia again, his gaze held no warmth, no guilt—only weary detachment.

He reached for her hand, pried her fingers from his wrist one by one.

“Sorry,” he said quietly. “I haven’t fallen for you—ever.”

And with that, he turned and walked away.


The Fall

The sound of his footsteps echoed until it faded into silence.
Olivia stood frozen, her chest heaving, tears burning hot trails down her cheeks. Around her, no one moved—his friends stared at the floor, too cowardly to meet her eyes.

The black card still gleamed on the table between empty glasses and half-finished cigars.
A hundred million dollars.
Three years of love priced, packaged, and dismissed.

She laughed—harsh, hollow, disbelieving. The sound of someone who had just watched her own heart being auctioned off.

Slowly, she walked to the table, picked up the card, and snapped it cleanly in half. The sharp plastic edges cut into her palm, drawing blood. She didn’t even feel it.

“Keep your money, Damien,” she whispered to the empty room.
“You can’t pay off love.”

Then she left—head held high, though her legs trembled with every step.

Outside, the cold night air slapped her face, the city lights blurring through her tears. She finally let herself collapse against the hood of her car, her shoulders shaking silently.

For three years she had believed she’d tamed the unbreakable man.
But in truth, she had only been a chapter in his waiting story.


The Aftermath

Back in the suite, Damien’s phone buzzed again, but he ignored it. He poured himself a drink, staring out the window at the glittering skyline of Zephyra. The taste of her name lingered at the edge of his thoughts, though he’d never admit it. He told himself he felt nothing.

Down in the street below, Olivia’s car sped away into the darkness. She didn’t know where she was going—only that she needed to escape the weight pressing on her chest. Each passing streetlight carved streaks of gold across her tear-streaked face.

In that moment, she made a silent vow.
Never again would she be anyone’s experiment.
Never again would she mistake control for affection, or attention for love.

The next time Damien Harrington saw her, she promised herself, she wouldn’t be the woman who begged for his heart. She would be the woman who made him regret losing hers.


The Symbolic Ending

When dawn finally touched the city, Olivia was still awake—standing barefoot on her balcony, wind whipping her hair. Her mascara had run, but her eyes were fierce, defiant.

She took a long breath, letting the icy air fill her lungs.
Somewhere inside, amid the pain, a spark was lighting—a spark that would one day become fire.

Love had made her weak.
Betrayal would make her strong.

And though Damien had walked away without looking back, she knew something he didn’t: no man walks away from Olivia Westbrook unscarred.

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