Let The Wind Whispers My FarewellChapter 1
Before the show, Victor’s stepsister Abigail cut my safety rope. I was performing a dance 30 feet in the air—one wrong move and I’d hit the ground, broken without a chance of recovery.
Sharp-eyed fans dug up Abigail’s personal information and by the next day, limited-edition lingerie mystery boxes featuring my high-def private photos were flying off the shelves online.
I turned to my manager and fiance, Victor Whytton, for help, but outside the VIP room, I overheard him laughing with no care.
“Man, I’ve done you a solid! Let’s see who gets the hot mystery edition, complete with the real deal pics!”
“Ugh, these stockings are the standard ones, right? But hey, they’ve got some flavor! Big thanks to Vic for the generous share!”
“Come on, Mr. Whytton, Faith’s your fiancée and the artist you’ve poured money into to make famous. Aren’t you worried she’ll flip out, break up with you and leave you with nothing?”
Victor twirled a sexy pair of panties around his finger, his motions languid, his tone dripping with disdain.
“Her? She’s got nothing, I hold her life in my hands. She’s just waiting for me to ask her to marry me. Besides, she’s been exposed already—who else would even dare to take her on?”
Amid the mocking laughter, a timid lackey stood up.
“But Faith hasn’t done anything wrong! The fans just wanted Abigail to apologize—they only leaked a few public life photos, not even really bullying her online!”
Victor’s expression twisted with rage. He lashed out, kicking the guy twice before grinding his polished dress shoe into his chest.
“The hell are you barking for? Abby is sweet and innocent—she looked up to Faith like an idol! And just because she accidentally brushed against the safety rope, Faith manipulated her fans on Abby and turned the internet against her. So what if I sold a few of her lingerie sets as payback? Is that really so extreme?”
The other lackeys, eager to please, jumped in and beat the guy bloody.
The sickening thuds of fists against flesh landed like blows to my own heart, leaving my chest tight and numb.
——
Their flattery never stopped.
“Vic, you’re a genius! We made millions in one night! And Faith’s fans? Dumb as hell—shelling out $999 for bargain-bin lingerie that costs cents to produce. We couldn’t keep up with demand!”