He pried my legs apart and slammed forward hard. The movement was rough-fast and forceful-and it wasn't long before a raspy groan escaped him.

It felt like pure torture. He drove me to the edge for hours, and I could only grit my teeth and hold on. Theodore, I swear one day I'll make sure you feel every ounce of this humiliation I suffered tonight.

It wasn't until the street was deathly quiet and the night completely drowned the city that he finally let me go. Zipping up his pants, he looked refreshed, almost smug, while I lay there in a mess-drained and crumpled like I'd fallen apart.

He tossed his suit jacket over me like it was a courtesy, then drove me straight to the gates of the Reynolds residence. When the security guard saw us, he paused-staring without a word.

Theodore pulled three hundred bucks from his wallet and shoved it into my hand, his tone laced with sarcasm.

"For the clothes," he said, "If it's not enough, call the Sterlings. My mother would be thrilled to host you. Feel free to name your price."

His car sped off down the road with a roar and vanished into the night.

I shot a sharp glare at the security guard who was gawking at my exposed legs, forcing myself to stand tall and act like I was above it all, even though every step was a struggle on my way back to the house.

By that time, it was past 2 a.m. Everyone at home was already asleep. I went straight to my room, wrapped my arms around a photo of my foster mom, cried into the silence, and eventually fell into a deep sleep.

The next morning, the sound of someone pounding on my door startled me awake. The banging was wild, like they meant to knock the whole door down. I dragged myself up and opened it, only to be met with Isabella's tear-streaked face glaring at me.

She scanned me from top to bottom before screaming, "Natalie! You vile bitch!"

Before I could react, she shoved me to the floor. The jacket slipped open, revealing my torn clothes underneath-my skin now a map of bruises and glaring red marks.

Isabella dashed at me, yanking at my hair with everything she had. I finally snapped out of it and fought back, and that's when the sound of heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway-Vivian and Hubert appeared at the same time.

Without even asking what the hell was happening, Hubert charged up and slapped me across the face-hard. My cheek instantly swelled, the pain a burning sting that made my eyes water.

"Natalie, even if you hate me, Isabella is your sister! How could you do something so disgusting?!" Vivian clutched Isabella with trembling arms, sobbing like I was some monster, while Hubert pointed at me, red with fury.

"You've got no shame at all! He's your sister's fiancé! Are you really so bitter that you can't stand to see her happy?"

I took a shaky breath, spat out the blood pooling in my mouth, and glaring at Vivian's fake-innocent, pitiful act, I let out a cold laugh.

"Can't stand to see her happy? She should be thanking me. If it weren't for me, Theodore wouldn't have called. You'd never have gotten the chance to meddle and set her up with him. If Madame Sterling and Mr. Sterling hadn't pressured him, do you really think he'd give her a second look? Keep dreaming."

Back then I was dumb enough to try to get back at him by scrawling Vivian's number on the back of that three-hundred-dollar 'thank you' note. That backfired perfectly, giving her the perfect opening to work behind my back.

Her schemes made Madame Sterling think Isabella was the one involved with Theodore. And considering how powerful the Sterlings are in Southveil, Hubert jumped at the chance to push the engagement.

With both Vivian's plotting and public opinion adding fuel to the fire, the Sterlings finally confirmed the engagement.

Mr. Sterling Sr. had always favored his most capable grandson, promising that as long as he produced a great-grandchild soon, he'd consider naming him the heir to the Sterling Group.

With such a massive fortune dangling in front of him, Theodore didn't care who he married. The person didn't matter-only the result did.

And he never denied nor clarified anything, for a very simple reason-it was all just part of his revenge on me.

That day he brought his mother to the Reynolds household, it became crystal clear that I was no longer welcome there. I wasn't about to let Vivian and Isabella pull off their scheme so easily. Theodore probably figured he could even use me to teach them a lesson.

In a way, I kind of handed Isabella the engagement on a silver platter.

Vivian's face froze. "What nonsense are you spouting?"

"Swear on your conscience if you dare."

"That's enough!" Hubert was livid, his face darkening as he pointed at me and roared, "Get out! I don't have a disgrace like you for a daughter!"

I let out a low chuckle, grabbed the photo of my late adoptive mother from the nightstand and turned to leave. Hubert called after me, his voice cold and sharp, "Don't show your face at the Reynolds–Sterling engagement. If you mess this up, I guarantee you'll regret it."

Seriously, with a tone like that, it didn't sound like a father talking to his daughter. I didn't bother responding and just walked away.

I moved into a rental apartment and never stepped foot in the Reynolds house again. I didn't tell Grandpa anything, and Hubert wasn't dumb-he must've kept the news of me leaving completely under wraps.

After work today, I was planning to meet Lucille. But my manager, Oliver Hatcher, suddenly stopped me and insisted I go with him to meet a client and finalize a deal. He promised me a generous commission if it went through.

I texted Lucille to wait for me at the restaurant we were heading to. I figured I'd join her as soon as the contract was signed.

We went to a fancy lounge that had a private room with a Japanese-style setup. Oliver ordered food and drinks, then sat on the tatami with me while we waited.

I couldn't help but think this client sure knew how to make an entrance. If Oliver weren't with me, I'd be pretty nervous, no lie.

He gave me a casual smile and poured me a drink. "Here, have a sip. Patience is part of being in sales, y'know. Clients like this one-nothing new."

I took the glass and glanced at him, a bit hesitant. Oliver might look young for his mid-thirties, but in our department, he was known for being all smiles on the outside and ruthless behind the scenes. I've caught heat from him plenty over the past two years. But today, his attitude felt weirdly chill-too nice, honestly.

He threw me a sideways look. "What? Think I slipped something in your drink?"

I mentally rolled my eyes, but to save face, I took a couple sips and set the glass down. He didn't say anything more and just drank by himself.

That put me at ease, at least for the moment.

A while later, he stepped out to take a call. When he came back, he was with a man in a suit. I didn't recognize the figure at first, but as soon as he sat down, my stomach dropped.

Round face, greasy combover, chunky arms and a belly like a barrel. He sat down and gave me a slow once-over, then patted Oliver on the shoulder. "Nicely done."

It was Graham Sullivan-the same guy Vivian tricked me into meeting last time. Rumors painted him as some high-flying thirty-something CEO with a billion-dollar company.

In reality? Total scam. Seeing him in person exposed all the lies. Vivian was ruthless-handing me over to a sleaze like him? She really wanted to ruin me.

Sensing something was off, I shot Oliver a serious look. "Mr. Hatcher, what's going on here?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he poured me another drink, lips curled in a cold sneer. "Last time our dinner had to be cut short because you weren't feeling well, Miss Reynolds. Now that we're working on this joint project, I don't feel comfortable letting someone else handle it. I came here tonight to talk business with you-surely you won't leave me hanging, right?"

Oliver chuckled obsequiously on the side, wringing his hands. "Oh no, Mr. Sullivan, we're the lucky ones. It's a privilege to work with someone like you."

Graham clearly enjoyed the flattery.

I stayed silent, he cut me a glance. Oliver immediately grabbed a bottle of alcohol and handed it to me. "Natalie, come on. Toast Mr. Sullivan, make it up to him."

I shot him a glare-what a disgusting jerk. Oliver leaned close and hissed in my ear, "If you make Mr. Sullivan happy tonight, there'll be rewards in it for you. But if you pull any stunts... Southveil's not that big-you sure you wanna risk your career over this?"

Gritting my teeth, I took the bottle and got up to pour Sullivan a drink. But just as I turned back, he suddenly grabbed my wrist. I struggled hard, spilling wine all over the table, but he just wouldn't let go.

Then a sound came from the door-someone pushed it open. Oliver flashed a quick grin at Sullivan. "Gotta take a call, I'll be right back," and exited.

I was livid. Sullivan abruptly let go, and I stumbled back, red wine drenching my white blouse. The fabric clung to me, clearly showing my undergarments. Sullivan let out a perverse laugh and gulped down another glass.

I watched him down his drink like water and quickly formed a plan. Settling back into my seat, I covered my chest with one hand and poured him more wine with the other. "Mr. Sullivan, last time was my bad. Please don't take it personally. Let's not let this mess up our companies' partnership."

But Graham wasn't fooled. His bloated hands knocked the glass aside, and he leaned in, grabbing my face. The stench of alcohol on his breath made me gag, but I forced myself to stay still. If he really did anything to me tonight, I'd rather be dead than live with it.

"Let me go..."

He bellowed out a laugh, and then I heard him unbuckling his pants. Terrified, I spun to run, but he yanked me back by the ankle and pinned me under his weight. "You little bitch, I've forked over thirty grand to your adopted mom. Think I'll let you off easy again?"

He grabbed my blouse and started tearing. Most of my chest was exposed, the cold air stinging against my skin. In the chaos, my hand found the wine bottle that had fallen. Without a second thought, I raised it and smashed it hard against the back of his head.

"Ahhh!"

He screamed and clutched his skull, staggering off me. I scrambled backward across the floor, made a dash for the door, threw it open, and ran out. Behind me, Graham cursed as he stumbled after me.

Just then, someone appeared in the hallway. Desperate, I flung off Graham's hand and ran like my life depended on it, latching onto the man with wild eyes. "Please... please help me!"

Graham came charging over and tried to drag me back. "You slut! Think you can run? I'm not letting you get away this time!"

I shut my eyes in despair, thinking it was all over-when a gust of wind brushed past my ear out of nowhere, followed by Graham's painful grunt. The next second, I was yanked into an uncomfortably cold embrace.

I opened my eyes just in time to see Graham sprawled on the ground, unable to get up. Then I looked up and met a pair of icy, sharp eyes.

Theodore. Again.

His voice came out low and threatening, and his gaze briefly swept across my exposed skin before narrowing even more. His stare was like ice needles pricking my scalp.

Graham pushed himself up with a hand, wiping the blood off his lip with the other. "Who the heck are you, kid? Got a death wish messing with my business?"

Theodore stepped forward and placed himself between us. His eyes stayed locked on Graham. "Mr. Sullivan."

Graham's face froze the moment he finally got a good look at him. He was stunned. Then his eyes flicked back to me, and he scowled like he'd swallowed a lemon whole. "Natalie, not bad. You really know how to pick 'em. Fine, I'll let it go this once. But don't think this is the end of it."

He shot me a death glare and stormed off, one hand over his head.

I clenched my fists. Vivian, you better be ready. I'm coming for you after tonight.

Taking a deep breath, I tried to pull myself together, turned, and was about to leave when someone grabbed my wrist from behind. Theodore had stepped closer, crowding into my space until my back hit the sliding door behind me. There was nowhere to run.

"Use me and just walk away like nothing happened?"

"Must be nice, huh? Even dare to play me. Done using me, now tossing me aside?"

I kept my eyes lowered, voice shaky. "That's not it."

"Not it?" His laugh was cold and sharp. He didn't look away for even a second. When I ducked my head lower, he suddenly grabbed my chin with his icy fingers and forced me to look at him.

"Girls like you? I don't give a damn about. So don't push your luck. You won't like where that leads."

His words cut way deeper than whatever Graham had planned. It was like someone stuck a needle right into my heart-sharp, sudden, and brutal.

I bit down hard just to keep from crying, but my voice caught in my throat.

Then his gaze flicked, and he noticed my hands-pressed against the door under his grip. His eyes hesitated when he saw the blood.

I'd scraped myself on some shards of glass trying to get away earlier. Cuts stung across my palms and wrists. Blood had started to trickle again, dark against my skin.

We stared at each other-me, biting back tears; him, stunned speechless. The room held its breath with us. But I knew I couldn't hold out much longer.

A quiet sob escaped me.

Theodore froze, eyes locked on mine. Then, after a long pause, he let go of my wrists, peeled off his suit jacket, and tossed it at me without a word. He glared at me one last time before turning on his heel and stalking off down the hallway.

Only when his back vanished around the corner did my knees finally give. I slumped to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.

After a while, when the crying dulled into numbness, I stared at the jacket he'd thrown. I had nothing else, so I reluctantly slipped it on and dragged myself out of the restaurant, eyes swollen, clothes messed up, head full of chaos.

I opted for the bus. In this state, I didn't want to risk it with a cab. My reflection in the window-red eyes, crumpled clothes-turned heads even at the back of the bus. A few older ladies kept glancing my way, whispering with judgment written all over their faces.

But I'd take gossip over possibly ending up in some creepy driver's trunk any day.

I dropped onto the sofa the moment I got home, completely wiped out. Didn't even bother to turn on the lights.

Then suddenly, the doorbell rang, sharp and insistent. I instinctively looked toward the door, heart lifting into my throat. I've always been independent, yeah, but I'm still a woman living alone, and after hearing all those horror stories out there...

I stayed frozen for a second, debating what to do. The doorbell kept buzzing non-stop. Gritting my teeth, I grabbed a broom with one hand and twisted the doorknob with the other. The second it creaked open, a tall shadow slipped inside. Without thinking, I swung the broom hard, eyes shut.

A hand caught my wrist mid-swing. "Are you insane?"

I shuddered. Theodore stepped around me, stormed inside, and yanked the broom out of my hand, tossing it aside. He curved two fingers under my chin, lifting my face.

My eyes, still swollen and puffy from crying, met his as he stared down at me.

He was so close, towering over me, then-without warning-he leaned in and kissed me.

My eyes flew wide open in shock, but before I could even make a sound, he bit down harshly on my lip. There was nothing gentle about the way he kissed. Every move was rough, deliberate, punishing. My tears started falling again, but he didn't let up.

My whole body went weak from his kiss. He pulled me firmly into his chest. As soon as we were pressed that close, it felt like a surge of electricity shot straight through me.

Just when I was starting to lose myself in the moment, he abruptly let go. His eyes were colder than ice as he stepped back and spit out, "What, you enjoy being forced? Pathetic."

That snapped me back fast.

The expression on his face-mocking, smug-hit me like a punch in the gut. I shoved him hard, tilting my head up, trying my best to look defiant. "Yeah, sure, I'm pathetic! So what? You knew that already-why'd you even come back? This place is too cramped for someone like you. Get out!"

My words clearly pissed him off. He spun around and clamped down on my wrist, his face clouded with fury.

He wrapped an arm around my waist, spun me around, and pinned me up against the door. His breath was hot against my neck as he whispered, "Say it... I wanna hear you say it..."

When his hand yanked open my shirt and grabbed my chest, I didn't even hesitate. With all the strength I had, I slapped him across the face. A loud smack echoed, and I felt the sting on my palm.

"Are you out of your mind? This is my place! If you want a woman, go find someone else!"

He froze for a moment, then grabbed my chin hard. "Natalie! Cut the act! Pull this manipulative crap with some other guy. I'm sick of your games-got it?"

I took a shaky breath and glared back at him, brows drawn tight. "You're full of it! What scheme exactly have I pulled on you? Honestly, if you're doing all this because you blame me for pushing you toward marrying Isabella, then fine-but let me tell you, I'm not gonna let that wedding happen. Don't get too comfortable."

His eyes narrowed, like he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "What are you plotting now? Let me say it clearly-I won't let you mess around with my marriage. Don't even think about it."

I shot him a sarcastic smirk, clearly provoking him. "Then let's wait and see. I've got a little show planned-I'm pretty sure you'll find it very entertaining."

"She's your sister!"

"She isn't!"I shouted, my voice sharp and loud enough to make him freeze for a second. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to calm down, then said more evenly, "Look, you don't need to worry. After this, I'll stay out of your life. I don't even really know you. This whole mess between us was just one giant misunderstanding. So just go."

But instead of backing off, his face got darker, like he'd just snapped. His tone was like a wild animal's growl. "Why should I believe you? Maybe this is all just some twisted game you're playing to get me hooked."

I almost lost it. "Are you serious? I don't care if you believe me or not!"

He sneered, voice full of mockery. "Even if you're not one of Clifford's people, don't think I can't see through you. That innocent act, those tears? I've seen it all before."

His words were laced with contempt. I couldn't help but think back to Graham nearly assaulting me. That feeling boiled over in my chest like I might explode.

What the hell did I do in a past life? No mother's love, no father's care-always being used and hurt. Vivian, Oliver... and now even Theodore had to step on me like I was nothing.

Snatching up the broom off the floor, I swung it at him with everything I had. "I don't even know who the hell Clifford is! Get out! I don't ever want to see you again, you jerk!"

He took a couple of hits before grabbing the broom and shoving me hard. I lost my balance and fell back, landing on the floor with a thud. Pain stabbed through my wrist where it was already hurt, and tears sprang to my eyes from the sheer sting.

Theodore's face was pure ice, his stare sharp and filled with fury, like a demon straight out of hell. "I despise liars. I don't care who else you've manipulated, but if you try to mess with me..."

I tilted my head up to meet his glare, defiant even in pain.

"I'll make you wish you were dead."

*****

The next morning, I woke up on the cold floor. Walking to the bathroom, I stared at myself in the mirror-puffy eyes, messy hair, collar all askew. There were faint, blotchy kiss marks on my chest.

Marks left by Theodore.

When did it start? When did everything-my body, my mind-get wrapped up in him? His presence lingered like a scent that clung to my skin and refused to leave, sinking in deep enough to suffocate.

Just as I stepped out of the bathroom, my phone rang. It was Lucille, and the second I picked up, she practically screamed at me. "Natalie! What kind of friend are you? Something that major happened and you didn't call me? You were kicked out by that deadbeat Hubert and didn't even tell me? If you've got the guts to hide this, then don't ever show your face to me again!"

I winced, rubbing my ear from the verbal assault. "Okay, okay, my bad! Where are you? I'll come find you right now and beg for forgiveness."

She huffed, "Outside Graham's office. With his wife."

I shot up from the couch like it was on fire. "What the hell are you guys planning to do?"

Her laugh was low and chilling. "After what that bastard did to you, even his wife can't stand him. I'm not letting him off easy. Meet us there-one hour."

Twenty minutes later, I rushed to the door, and just as I was about to bolt, I noticed a white plastic bag on the floor. I paused, picked it up and looked inside-Arnica Gel, gauze, bandages, cotton, scissors... every kind of wound care item you could think of. And on top of it all? A bowl of abalone porridge, long gone cold.

I blinked, remembering last night-Theodore might've come back after he left.

No one else had been here. No one.

Could it really be him?

My mind went blank. I stood there frozen, unsure what to do next.

Just then, my phone buzzed again. A message from Lucille: [Where are you? You coming?]

I shook my head, snapping myself out of it. After checking the address she gave me, I left the medical supplies and porridge on top of the trash bin outside the door and rushed down the stairs.