Victor’s face darkened instantly. He shrugged off his coat and draped it over Abigail’s shoulders.
“Watch your mouth. She’s not someone you can even think about.” Then he turned to me. “Faith, wait here. I’m taking Abby to get changed into something warmer.”
I stood there in the cold for a long time. I used to believe that love could be measured by what someone was willing to give.
Victor had a terrible temper and rarely showed me any real care. Yet, he spent millions setting up an agency for me, gave me the title of his girlfriend and kept me by his side every night.
I thought that meant he loved me. So I gave him everything—my youth, my devotion—without hesitation.
But I was wrong. A person’s "sacrifices" have to be measured against what they actually have to lose.
Victor had more money than he could ever spend, more time than he knew what to do with and more women than he could ever get bored of. To him, I was nothing more than a toy he had paid for—one that wasn’t allowed to resist, only obey.
I left the estate. Suddenly, heat surged through my body. My limbs went weak. The world spun around me as I gripped my head, trying to stay conscious. The teacup slipped from my fingers and shattered on the floor.
"You idiot! It wasn’t enough to seduce my brother—you actually thought you could marry him? Keep dreaming!"
"Should’ve just thrown you off from ten meters up! Dying in your own farewell performance—that would’ve been poetic!"
A sharp pain shot through my scalp.
Abigail let out a delighted laugh, her polished little boot grinding down on my hair. She patted my face again and again, like she was playing with a doll.
Behind her stood a man, his lips stretched into a disturbing grin.
The moment I recognized his face, my blood turned to ice. My ears rang. The metallic taste of blood filled my throat.
I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to beg. "You can have Victor. Take everything. Just let me go, please."
The stack of photo cards Abigail had slipped into my bag scattered across the floor.
The man’s eyes gleamed with sick excitement. He licked his lips, swallowing hard as he took a step closer. A violent tremor ran through my body.
Abigail, meanwhile, was doubled over in laughter. "I heard dancers are basically just high-class escorts—same deal, just pricier than the red-light district! You love your fans so much, right? What's a little fan service?"