In the hospital.

The cold device only had a faint vibration sound. Amelia Wytte had a long nightmare, in which a pair of cold hands tightly grabbed her throat and forced her to compromise.

All of a sudden, she felt something really cold and rough around her neck, which made her open her eyes all of a sudden.

"Waah..." the big palm suddenly tightened, which made her gasp for breath.

"What qualifications do you have to live?" The man gnashed his teeth in a low and hoarse voice, like the demon who was in the hell to decide life and death.

As she breathed hard, his handsome and cold eyes gradually appeared in her memory of Amelia Wytte.

"Nicola Clinton , why... Why did you do this to me?" The breath of Amelia Wytte was struggling weakly, and her eyes were red. She was in great pain.

The anger and hatred in his eyes made her have no doubt that she might die at his hands in the next second.

Just when she was about to lose her last strength to struggle, hid big hand suddenly loosened. Amelia Wytte was like a broken doll, thrown back to the pillow by Nicola Clinton mercilessly.

"That's right. You have no right to die. You should live a life worse than death. You should die with my brother all your life." He said word by word coldly.

Amelia Wytte breathed hard and looked into his cold eyes, murmuring, "what did you say? What happened to Bill ?"

Nicola Clinton looked at her coldly, as if he wanted to kill her.

"Dead." He gritted his teeth and said, "You are satisfied."

As he approached step by step, the transfusion bottle in Amelia Wytte was pulled down by him and smashed to the bedside. The glass bottle was broken into pieces.

Several pieces of glass debris bounced to her snow-white face, leaving shocking thin blood marks, but his eyes were burning with a cold flame.

Her body trembled, and a bigger crack appeared in her heart. She swallowed her tears and shook her head. "I don't know what happened. It's not me. It's really not me."

"Do you think I'm my brother?" He shouted coldly, and his eyebrows were full of disgust and hatred for her. "You cry and he felt heartache for you, and then he lost his life."

"You were drunk driving and had a car accident. You're lucky to survive."

"Damn you! Why is he..." Nicola Clinton 's eyes were full of scarlet.

Amelia Wytte held her head tightly with her hands, but he was like a executioner, cutting her heart word by word.

How could she expect him to be so gentle and trust her.

The pair of handsome eyes and brows had left a deep mark on her heart, and now she was devoured by pain.

He tried every means to push her to his brother, Bill Clinton , and even used her family to force her to marry him.

She didn't know that his brother was dead, but she became the most hateful murderer in his eyes.

"Are you still pretending?" He looked coldly at Amelia Wytte, who was on the verge of collapse. He grabbed her delicate chin and pressed her with his slender fingers mercilessly on the blood stain on her face. "It's disgusting."

He forced her to look up at him, as if in this way, she could not escape the hatred that could devour her and destroy her.

She was like a badly trampled puppet, only a pair of long wet eyelashes gently flapping.

"Yes, disgusting." Her soul seemed to be gradually emptied, leaving only a cold body without any temperature. "In your eyes, I am a bitch who seduces you two brothers. No matter what I do, you just hate me?"

"As I said, I didn't see Bill Clinton last night, let alone know what happened. Why don't you believe me?"

The tone of Amelia Wytte was horribly cold, and only a pair of desperate eyes were staring at and questioning him.

"You're really a natural born actress. You still act at this time." With a heartless chuckle, Nicola Clinton rudely wiped the blood on her lips. His pale lips were stained with blood, which made his face even paler.

She pursed her lips stubbornly, feeling that his eyes were so strange and terrible.

"Don't think you can escape in this way." His long sharp eyebrows frowned fiercely, and his words made Amelia Wytte feel cold.

"You are his woman. If you die, you're also his ghost."

Amelia Wytte's breath froze. This man was so cold and cruel perhaps because he had no heart under his cold appearance.

His brother was dead, and the murderer was not her at all. Did he want her to die with him for the rest of her life?

"Are you crazy?" Amelia Wytte's body moved back and she wiped the sweetness from the corner of her mouth, but her teeth were trembling.

He wanted her to marry a dead man, and he wanted to completely destroy her life.

The piercing pain, along with the wound on her face, made her feel like being tortured.

His bloodthirsty eyes and eyes filled with hatred locked her coldly. For a moment, Amelia Wytte felt like a caged bird that was imprisoned and beaten .

Coldness and cruelty were all over Nicola Clinton 's body. His dark black standing collar windbreaker made his face more angular, like a God that from another world.

Amelia Wytte stared at him without a blink, staring at the man she loved so much but wanted to destroy her himself.

He took out his phone and found a picture, forcing Amelia Wytte to look at it. "Remember this face. This is your husband, and you can't forget him for the rest of your life."

"If you forget it, my brother will be unhappy."

The dull pain from the back of her head and the coldness on the tiles made Amelia Wytte cry out of pain, but when he saw her painful expression, the man seemed to be satisfied.

"Madman! I won't marry you! I won't..." she shouted hystEden Hawk ally, like a drowning man who tried his best but couldn't grasp a straw.

How could he be her straw? He wished she could drown herself in it.

"It's not up to you." He raised his hand expressionlessly and said, "come in."

The next second, a group of ritual experts and makeup artists came in with a pile of things in order, placing the dresses and all kinds of accessories on the table.

The gorgeous dress was shining with bright light, and Amelia Wytte only felt her eyes hurt.

"Today is her wedding day with second master . I want her to be the most beautiful bride." Nicola Clinton ordered calmly.

The people present were not surprised at all and nodded.

Clenching the sheet hard, Amelia Wytte felt that the man in front of her was extremely ironic and cruel. The people who surrounded her were like a dark cave that was about to devour her.

"Master , this is second master 's portrait."

Nicola Clinton took the cold photo. In the photo, the boy's smile was clean and bright, as if he had no trouble at all.

He touched the edge of the photo frame with his fingers and handed it to Amelia Wytte, "Hold it."

Amelia Wytte was desperate and helpless to the extreme. Her thin shoulders were constantly trembling, and she stubbornly gripped the corner of the quilt.

"Don't cry. He doesn't like it." He pressed the corner of her eyes and threatened coldly.

"Bride, please put on your wedding dress."

His words brought Amelia Wytte back to a more cruel reality from the desperate abyss.

Amelia Wytte was trembling all over. That crazy Nicola Clinton .

The people in front of her, who were busy decorating for her, knew it's absurd, but they were as numb as usual.

Crazy! They were all crazy!

She suddenly pulled the crown, but in the next second, her hands were tightly clamped. "Miss , please cooperate."

Unable to move, Amelia Wytte could only be at the mercy of them, cold all over.

She looked up at her flaming lips and watery eyes in the mirror. The delicate jewelry and wedding dress made her more gorgeous.

She smiled bitterly, but her face was full of sadness.

It was drizzling.

This was probably the most low-key wedding ceremony in S city. There was no bride team, no bridesmaid, no guests

The car was driving on an empty road. Amelia Wytte faintly heard a burst of crying not far away. Her body stiffened. Thinking of the portrait that Nicola Clinton asked her to hold, her face instantly turned pale.

This was not a wedding. It was Bill Clinton 's funeral!

When she got out of the car, the four security guards surrounded Amelia Wytte, as if they were afraid that she would escape.

The gloomy and depressed atmosphere around made Amelia Wytte on the verge of collapse. She stood still and looked desperately at the people not far away who were mourning in pain

Although she was so far away, she still saw Nicola Clinton in the crowd

He was dressed in a pure black suit, and his expression was as solemn as if he had sunk into ice. He stood alone in the center, and even so, it could not cover up his handsome and tall figure.

Suppressing the despair in the bottom of his heart, Amelia Wytte stared at his back, as if he had felt something. He turned around and glanced coldly at Amelia Wytte.

"Miss Whytte , please." The security guard sensed the hint in his eyes and immediately escorted Amelia Wytte to the mourning hall.

Amelia Wytte was pushed too hard to keep up with her pace. The continuous cries and the heavy syllables of funeral music intertwined, and her eyes were dizzy.

"Bitch, who let you in?" Suddenly, a sharp and angry voice came from behind.

Before Amelia Wytte came to her senses, she was slapped hard on the face. She lost her balance and was beaten to bend her knees and half lie on the ground.

As soon as she raised her head, she saw Laura Kent's face full of resentment and disgust.

The pain of losing her son made this delicate middle-aged woman who had been well maintained ten years older in an instant. All her sadness now turned into hatred for Amelia Wytte.

"You... You are an unpardonable sinner. It's all your fault. You killed my son. I want you to pay for your life!"

Then Laura Kent slapped hard on the other side of Amelia Wytte.

It seemed that Amelia Wytte's head was no longer hers, and there was a taste of fishy sweetness in her nose. She had no doubt that Laura Kent had used up all her strength in these two slaps.

"Aunt, it's not me. I don't know what happened to Bill ..."

The bride's headwear had already been smashed. Lying on the ground, Amelia Wytte raised her head and explained stubbornly.

"Shut up! You are such a vicious and dirty woman. You are not qualified to call Bill 's name!" Laura Kent cursed in a hoarse voice, trembling violently.

The loud noise attracted many people's attention. They looked at Amelia Wytte with surprise and disgus.

The complicated dispute and the uncontrollable Laura Kent were undoubtedly shocking news. A reporter took the opportunity to secretly take photos of everything.

Amelia Wytte moved her mouth, but found that she was too weak to say a word. The rain and tears blurred her eyes, and only a strange and blurred face was reproaching her.

She was like a rat crossing the street in their eyes, and everyone wanted to step on her.

The abyss was getting deeper and deeper, and no one would be her saver.

Until a low and hoarse male voice came above her head. It was him. The heart of Amelia Wytte rose and fell. She was about to raise her head, but was stabbed by the following words.

"Mother, Bill likes her very much. Let's finish the wedding procedure and let him rest in peace." Nicola Clinton walked to Amelia Wytte, looked at the woman on the ground expressionlessly and pulled Laura Kent away.

Unexpectedly, Laura Kent pushed Nicola Clinton away. The wrinkles at the corners of her eyes were full of resentment. "It's all your fault. You are not kind-hearted at all!"

"You made him disabled when you were a child. When he grows up, you have to find jinx to keep him company and hurt him for a lifetime!" After saying that, Laura Kent covered her face in pain.

Speaking of Bill Clinton 's childhood experience, Nicola Clinton 's face stiffened and his thin lips tightened. He was speechless and looked a little depressed.

Amelia Wytte curled up and held her knees tightly. Her consciousness was somewhat absent-minded,she covered her ears but still heard clearyly the insult, curse and cry.

How could this be?

She had only been in a coma for one night, but when she woke up, everything had changed.

The boy who always liked to smile disappeared overnight. The man who always had a cold face but lived in her heart wished her to die. Everyone wanted her to die

Her hair was grabbed, and Amelia Wytte felt a tearing pain on her head, as if her scalp was about to be lifted.

"You killed my son. You will never have a good life for the rest of your life!" All of a sudden, Laura Kent seemed to have lost her mind. She grabbed Amelia Wytte's hair and pulled her towards Bill Clinton 's memorial plate.

"Kneel down!" Laura Kent kicked her knee , and the sharp heels seemed to separate her bones.

A cold chill came from the ground. Amelia Wytte's hands were tightly gripping the ground. This was the first time she knelt down in her life.

She had been the daughter of the Wytte family since she was a child. She had lived a proud and wanton life. Even if the Wytte family declined later, no one could make her kneel down

It was like she was in a trap full of fog. She had no evidence and conditions to resist and was forced to bear all these injuries.

"Kowtow to Bill !"

Amelia Wytte obstinately straightened her neck. Soon, two tall men behind her rudely pressed her head and forcefully pressed her on the ground.

Nicola Clinton stood not far away. His eyes were indifferent, but fixed on the thin figure who was unwilling to compromise. His eyes were a little complicated.

"Bill , it's not me..." a muffled sound came from the forehead and the cold tile, accompanied by a faint sob of Amelia Wytte, which was unusually sad.

"Bill , it's not me..." the man's strength was even heavier, and the voice of Amelia Wytte was hoarse.

"It's not me..."

At this time, a police car whistle came, and the heavy footsteps were as gloomy as the weather.

"Please come with us." The cold shackles locked the slender and thin wrists of Amelia Wytte.

Three years later.

It was April, and the rain in S city continued.

The club was shrouded in the smoke of the corridor. Beautiful women were teasing the guests, and a burst of harsh and ambiguous sound came.

Looking at the forced expression on her face in the mirror, Amelia Wytte pulled down the hemline of her skirt.

In the past three years, no more scars were left on her face, but her eyes lost their brightness and smartness

"Well, which room do you serve?" The woman who was fixing her makeup glanced at Amelia Wytte and gossiped.

"I'm a waitress serving wine." Amelia Wytte looked down.

"Oh, you have such a good figure. I thought..." the woman withdrew her sight and shrugged. "I heard that there is a distinguished guest tonight. If anyone serves him, she won't have to worry about her salary for several years."

In a twinkling of an eye, she found that Amelia Wytte had disappeared. The woman curled her lips disappointingly.

Amelia Wytte kept her head down and held the wine in her hand, as if all the noise around had nothing to do with her.

After she was released from prison, because of this stain, no company was willing to accept her. In order to make a living, she had to work in a night club with various people. She had to cause less trouble and be more tolerant. It was her principle not to make trouble.

"No. 302. Send the wine to the front room." The manager behind stopped Amelia Wytte.

It was a bottle of high-aged foreign wine. It was only for a valuable guest.

Be careful. Don't make any mistake!"

The spacious box was filled with a lively and extravagant atmosphere. The smell of cigarettes mixed with the ambiguous tone of men and women, making it like a stage drama.

Amelia Wytte carefully held the tray and walked to the center of the room.

"Well, Mr. Clinton ..." a sharp coquettish voice was heard, and immediately flattered.

Almost at the same time, Amelia Wytte looked over there subconsciously.

The tall and straight man, with his legs crossed lazily, put his slender and bony hand on the armrest of the sofa and lit up the cigar in his hand.

He was wrapped around a scantily dressed woman, revealing a large part of her snow-white back, and was rubbing the man's body in an ambiguous and strange posture.

After a while, the man frowned, impatiently pulled the woman away with one hand, and threw her on the sofa without hesitation.

At this time, even if the light was dim, Amelia Wytte could still see his face clearly.

His angular side face and slender eyebrows gradually overlapped with her face in her memory. He was as vigorous as he was three years ago.

Her hands trembled violently. The only thought in Amelia Wytte at this time was to run away.

She put the wine on the table in a hurry and wanted to leave.

"Miss Whytte ." At this time, her slender wrist was firmly gripped from behind.

Nicola Clinton said in a low and hoarse voice, "long time no see."

Amelia Wytte closed her eyes and didn't turn around. She shook her head and said, "you've got the wrong person.

As she spoke, she tried her best to get rid of his grip, but unexpectedly, he increased his strength.

Her thin shoulder was turned over forcefully, and Nicola Clinton looked down at her. His tall figure brought a heavy pressure.

"I will never forget you." There was a hint of mockery in his voice.

At this moment, his existence only made Amelia Wytte feel forced and scared.

Those young and frivolous love had been destroyed in that unfortunate prison.

"Oh, Mr. Clinton , I said you don't want a woman who was active. It seems that you have a hidden beautiful mistress." The young man beside cheered up.

"Yes, she is a little thinner, but she is quite cool and gorgeous. It turns out that Mr. Clinton likes this kind of girl..."

Hearing this, Nicola Clinton raised his eyebrows, loosened his grip and said lazily, "I don't like this kind of person."

Amelia Wytte seemed to have been used to his sarcasm, so she didn't say anything. But he said lightly, "help everyone. Drink all the wine."

For a moment, everyone looked at each other.

"Sorry, I can't drink, and I'm not responsible for drinking." Amelia Wytte was expressionless.

Nicola Clinton picked up his glass and chuckled, but there was no smile in his eyes. "It seems that your manager didn't teach the waiters well."

He raised his eyebrows slightly, clasped his hands, and wrapped his knees wantonly. "Maybe I should remind him."

Amelia Wytte's heart sank. The meaning of Nicola Clinton 's words was obvious. If she didn't drink, she would get her salary and get out of here.

At this time, several young men around also sensed that something was wrong.

The young master of the Clinton family had a weird temperament. He was a man of few words. He tried his best to send a woman to him, but he didn't even look at her.

But now he was forcing a waiter of low status

"I don't think so." A man with hair combed on his back laughed, took out his wallet and threw a pile of money on the table. "Beauty, you have drunk this wine, and the money will belong to you."

The men of high-ranking officials and wealthy businessmen didn't lack money the most when they played. Several people followed and threw a few wads of money.

Amelia Wytte clenched her fists.

She seemed to have no other choice from beginning to end.

She wanted to live. The torture in prison made her sick. She needed money and this job. She needed to live. She needed to find out the truth of the car accident and prove her innocence.

This was the only thing that supported her

"Thank you. I'll drink it." Without any hesitation, Amelia Wytte picked up the glass and gulped it down.

The pungent alcohol went through her throat and into her stomach. She couldn't help choking and wiped the corners of her mouth awkwardly.

Then, Amelia Wytte drank up all the wine in the cup in one breath, and felt a wave of nausea in her stomach.

Seeing this, Nicola Clinton sneered silently.

She really drank it.

She used to be as proud as a swan, and no one could do anything to her. Even if Laura Kent forced her to kowtow at the funeral, she was unwilling to compromise.

But now she had to get the money even though she had been insulted.

His eyes darkened and he put the goblet on the table.

"Didn't you say that you couldn't drink?" He sneered. When Amelia Wytte was about to pick up the stack of cash on the table, he waved his big hand and the pink cash fell all over the ground.

"Fuck off!" His expression was very calm.

Amelia Wytte's hand froze in the air, and the atmosphere in the room froze.

After a while, she forced a smile, half knelt down and picked up the notes scattered on the ground one by one.

Her ten fingers used to be clean, but now they were slightly callus.

Looking at the thin body squatting on the ground, Nicola Clinton silently pulled his tie, but he could not get rid of the irritable anger in his heart.

"Thank you." Amelia Wytte stood up and left the room in a neither humble nor pushy manner. Her eyes never fell on Nicola Clinton again.