They dragged me roughly toward the elevator lobby. Every violent tug pulled at the wounds across my body.

Ronan still wasn't satisfied. He chased after us and drove several brutal kicks into my stomach.

"That's for harassing Daphne again!

"That's for not knowing your place!

"Aren't you a designer?" he sneered. "Let's see how you draw after this."

He planted his foot on the back of my right hand. The hard heel of his leather shoe twisted slowly.

Blinding pain exploded through my nerves, darkening my vision.

These hands had once drawn countless designs for Daphne. They had created one-of-a-kind jewelry just for her. They had sketched the dream home we planned to build together.

Now her new lover was trampling them in the most humiliating way possible.

In the struggle, a rolled-up set of drawings slipped from the inner pocket of my jacket and fell onto the floor.

It was the wedding gown sketch I had stayed up several sleepless nights designing for Daphne.

Ronan noticed. He bent down and picked it up, unfolding it with a mocking grin.

"Oh? Are these those worthless drawings of yours?"

He laughed lightly, then pulled his hands apart.

Rip.

The design I had treasured like a masterpiece was torn to shreds. The fragments scattered across my face like falling snow.

"Trash drawn by trash belongs in the garbage."

The noise had drawn attention from the hallway.

A few neighbors cracked open their doors and peered out, pointing and whispering.

"So that's him. I heard he's a kept man living off Miss Sinclair. She dumped him, and he still won't leave."

"Tsk. Looks respectable enough. Didn't expect he'd be this kind of person."

"Serves him right. Of all people to mess with, he had to provoke Mr. Ashford."

Their whispers were like steel needles piercing my ears.

Meanwhile, Daphne, the woman I had once held so carefully in my hands, stood coldly in the doorway. She watched as I was beaten, observed as I was humiliated.

She slowly walked toward me.

For a moment, I thought there might still be the faintest trace of pity.

There wasn't.

She simply opened her purse, pulled out a thick stack of cash, and tossed it onto my face like garbage.

"That should be enough for you to disappear from my world." There wasn't a trace of warmth in her voice. "Landon, don't let me see you again. You disgust me."

In that moment, my world collapsed completely.

I lay sprawled across the cold floor, battered and filthy.

Around me were Ronan's arrogant laughter, the neighbors' whispers and pointing fingers, and Daphne's icy stare.

Humiliation and rage slammed violently against my chest, ready to explode.

Using the last of my strength, I reached into my pocket and pulled out my blood-stained phone. My fingers trembled from the pain.

Still, I dialed the number I knew by heart.

The call connected.

"It's me." My voice was hoarse, but eerily calm.

Ronan's laughter stopped abruptly. He smirked like he was watching a show. "Oh? You've got backup?"

I ignored him.

Into the phone, I spoke slowly, word by word, "The annual investment review of Apex Capital has been moved up to tonight. The location will be the Stellar Club, right downstairs from my building.

"Notify Victor DeHaven of the DeHaven Group. And his precious son. Bring every board member."

Then I paused.

"Tell them this. I, Landon Cross, will personally preside over the meeting."