Eliza kicked at the hem of my dress.

"Wearing something that's so slutty—don't tell me you usually use bridal makeup gigs as an excuse to seduce the groom?"

My hand paused mid-air.

I was the chairwoman of an internationally renowned cosmetics corporation, worth hundreds of billions, and a globally recognized makeup artist.

Countless celebrities begged for an appointment with me and still couldn't get a slot. And yet here I was, lowering myself to do her makeup—only because she was marrying Maverick.

And she dared to insult my professionalism?

When she opened her mouth again, I lifted my gaze and met hers head-on.

"You're pregnant before marriage and still claim to have some kind of virginity complex?"

A laugh escaped me. "Seriously? You? Calling anyone else dirty?"

"Where do you get that kind of face?"

She hadn't expected me to fight back. Her cheeks flushed bright red. "The baby in my stomach belongs to the groom! How is that the same?!"

"I gave him my first time, and I'm marrying him today—how am I not clean?!"

"But you—you came here just to ruin my big day! What's your real motive?!"

At that moment, Maverick sent me a voice-call request on WhatsApp.

The moment my screen lit up with his avatar, Eliza froze in disbelief.

Then she lunged forward and yanked my hair. "So you are trying to seduce my husband!"

"That's why you came here, right?!"

"I knew it—women who aren't virgins are always sluts! Always trying to lure men!"

"Don't think I don't know—there are tons of women obsessed with my husband!"

"You must be one of them!"

Suddenly, everything clicked.

So that's what this was about. All that 'unclean' nonsense? She wasn't disgusted—she was threatened.

Just your typical brainless bride who sees every woman as competition.

The bridesmaids rushed over, joining the attack. Two of them grabbed my arms, pinning me from both sides.

"It makes perfect sense now!"

"She wanted to ruin Eliza's face with cheap makeup and then seduce the groom!"

My arms were locked down tight—I couldn't move. A rare flicker of panic shot through me.

My hands were everything to me. They couldn't be injured!

I spoke hurriedly, "Maverick is my brother. If you don't believe me, call him!"

"Your brother?" Eliza leaned in, her gaze dripping with contempt. "What kind of 'brother'? A sugar daddy brother? A bedmate brother?"

Her spit nearly hit my cheek. I instinctively tried to pull back, but the bridesmaids didn't let me move.

Before I could react, she raised her hand and slapped me—hard.

"I've been with Maverick long enough. I've never heard him mention having a sister!"

"Stop pretending to be some delicate little victim to seduce men—you're not worthy!"

I froze.

It was true—Maverick wasn't my biological brother.

He was my uncle's son. My uncle and aunt died in an accident when I was five, and out of pity, my parents took him in and raised him like their own.

When my entire family moved abroad, he chose to stay in San Antonio, insisting he wanted to repay my parents by taking care of the domestic branch of our company.

I never expected he hadn't told Eliza about me at all.

Just then, her phone rang.

Seeing the caller ID, she lifted the screen in front of my face, smugness overflowing.

"My husband must've heard you bullied me. He's coming to help me!"

She tapped the speaker button and answered sweetly, her voice turning syrupy in an instant.

"Hubby! When are you getting here?"

"You won't believe it—the makeup artist today isn't even a virgin!"

"You know my parents hate anything unlucky!"

"What am I supposed to do now?"

On the phone, Maverick's voice sounded anxious. "Where is she? Where is she right now?"

Eliza shot me a sideways glance. "She's in my room."

"She's just a gold-digger. She even tried to extort money from me just now—so disgusting—"

Before she could finish, Maverick cut her off sharply. "Don't touch her. Stay where you are. I'm coming—right now!"

Then he hung up.

Eliza stared at her phone for a few seconds, stunned, before awkwardly putting it away.

Her bridesmaids immediately crowded around her, eyes full of envy.

"Mr. Peterson really treats you so well! The moment he heard something had happened to you, he couldn't wait to rush over!"

"Exactly! It's not even the scheduled time yet—so domineering!"

"Eliza, you're so lucky!"

Being praised like that, Eliza's smug expression returned instantly. She lifted her chin, acting like everything should naturally revolve around her.

Just then, one bridesmaid asked, "By the way, Eliza, what about your makeup now?"

Eliza froze.She looked at the smashed luxury cosmetics scattered across the floor, then glared at me. "You. Do it."

"But after you finish, you need to compensate me with ten thousand. And you must kneel to give it to me—to ward off your bad luck."

I almost couldn't believe what I was hearing.

I couldn't stop myself from snapping back, "You want me to do your makeup for free, then kneel and pay you ten thousand?"

"Well, I refuse."

"You—!" She jabbed a finger at me, furious. "I give you face and you don't want it!"

Suddenly, a bridesmaid smirked. "Eliza, I thought of something. A perfect way to deal with a slut like her—and let you vent."

Before I could react, she grabbed several red envelopes and shoved them into the neckline of my dress.

The sharp corners tore at my skin, burning painfully.

I tried to pull away, but with several of them holding me down, I couldn't move at all.

She clapped her hands proudly. "When the groomsmen come to 'open the door' later, we'll have them search for the red envelopes. They can only enter once they find them."

Eliza's eyes lit up instantly. "Brilliant!"

"Hahaha, and don't forget her underwear. My husband's buddies love women like her."

"It's my wedding day—might as well give them some fun."

A rush of blood pounded in my ears.

Seeing them gather more envelopes, walking toward me, I shouted desperately, "Stop! If you keep doing this, I'll call the police!"

"Call the police?" Eliza burst into mocking laughter. "Go ahead. When they come, they'll only arrest a filthy woman pretending to be my husband's sister!"

She snapped her fingers. "Bind her."

They swarmed me instantly—one pulling my arms, another yanking my hair.

I struggled with everything I had, but they had the advantage in numbers.

They shoved the red envelopes everywhere—anywhere they could reach.

"Stop pretending! You're loving this, aren't you?"

"Exactly. You'd die for Mr. Peterson's buddies to get their hands on you!"

Rage and humiliation crashed over me, suffocating.

My screams and curses only made them laugh harder.

Not until they had stuffed red envelopes into every vulnerable part of my body did they finally stop.

Then they wrapped a bedsheet around me and tied me to the bedpost, movements rough and practiced.

Eliza dusted off her hands, then sat down gracefully. "You all do my makeup. Whoever does it best—when we're done, I'll have my husband give her a big red envelope."

On hearing that, the bridesmaids' eyes lit up in greed.

Half an hour later, the bridesmaids finally finished Eliza's makeup—a thick, exaggerated influencer-style look.

Her foundation was caked on like plaster, the false lashes were so huge they nearly stabbed her eyebrows, and the blush was so bright it looked almost comical.

But Eliza admired herself in the mirror, turning left and right with satisfaction.

"Perfect! Only this kind of glam suits my status today!"

Suddenly, noise erupted downstairs.

The groomsmen must have arrived.

I let out a shaky breath. Maybe... finally I could be saved.

The bridesmaids poked their heads out the window.

"Eliza! They're here!" one of them squealed.

Eliza shot me a venomous glare. Her eyes gleamed with something dark, and a chill crept up my spine. Sure enough, she smirked.

"Go stall my husband downstairs," she ordered. "And send the groomsmen up first. Let them play a little game."

The bridesmaids immediately understood, sauntering out with knowing grins.

My stomach dropped. What was she planning now?

Before long, lively male voices echoed through the hallway.

"Where's the bride? Bring the bride out!"

"Come on, our Mr. Peterson is already getting mobbed by pretty bridesmaids—shouldn't the bride come greet him?"

As the footsteps got closer, one bridesmaid stepped in front of them.

"You want Eliza to come out? Sure."

"But first, you have to pass our little challenge."

With that, she yanked me out of the room.

I didn't even have time to react before I was shoved into the hallway.

The moment the groomsmen saw me, their eyes lit up.

"Is she a bridesmaid too? She's pretty cute."

The bridesmaid pinched my arm hard—hidden behind a sweet smile.

"Relax. The game's easy."

"All you have to do is find eighty-eight red envelopes hidden on her. Once you find them all, we'll consider letting you in to get the bride."

"Remember—every one of them needs to be found."

"What, from her?" The men looked me up and down, their gazes making my skin crawl.

I snapped, my voice was cold, "I'm telling you—anyone who lays a finger on me will regret it."

The hallway fell silent for a beat. Then Eliza's voice floated out from inside the room, syrupy sweet. "Don't be scared! This is just part of the game!"

"If you can handle the pressure and still finish the challenge, it shows you truly have sincerity, right?"

The men exchanged glances—then grinned.

"Well, if it's part of the game, we can't disappoint, can we?"

"Sorry in advance, Miss. We won't hold back!"

Before I could react, countless hands were suddenly reaching toward me.

The cold shock of unfamiliar touches made my entire body stiffen.

I jerked away instinctively and bolted toward the door—but someone grabbed me from behind, yanking me back.

"Oh—she's running! Another part of the challenge, huh?"

"Makes it more exciting!"

Someone hooked my ankle, and I stumbled forward, crashing onto the sofa.

Laughter erupted around me as several bodies closed in, their weight pinning me down.

Panic surged through my chest—my breath coming in tight, painful bursts.

I clawed at my dress, refusing to let it be pulled away. "Let go of me—!"

But the bridesmaids only laughed harder in the corner, filming with their phones.

"Come on! The livelier the games, the luckier Eliza's wedding will be!"

"Don't hold back—she loves men!"

Very quickly, they started finding more and more red envelopes on me.

But calling it a "search" was a joke—they were openly taking advantage of me, hands creeping wherever they pleased.

I had no idea how many times I'd already been grabbed.

Shame and fear tangled together, suffocating me.

Humiliation surged up like a wave, and tears spilled before I could stop them. But they didn't care at all.

"What are you crying for? It's just part of the game!"

"Yeah, it's not like we're taking a piece of your flesh!"

The bridesmaid picked up the envelopes they'd taken off me, counted them, and sighed dramatically. "Only eighty-seven? That's all?"

Right after that, all of them turned their gaze toward my dress.

Those eyes were shameless, predatory—devoid of restraint.

I immediately pressed my legs together, my voice shaking.

"That's enough! What you're doing is illegal!"

Just then, the bedroom door opened.

Eliza, who had been hiding inside the whole time, leaned lazily against the frame.

Smiling, she said, "Keep searching."

"If you ruin my husband's chance to 'retrieve the bride,' he's going to be furious."

With her encouragement, they grew even more reckless. Hands shot forward, tugging viciously at my dress.

"You've been touched so many times already—what's one more?"

"Please, you were totally enjoying it earlier. Don't pretend now!"

I struggled with everything I had, but I couldn't break free.

The moment I felt my dress about to tear—the front door suddenly slammed open with a deafening bang.

Maverick rushed in like a madman, voice cracking as he shouted, "Stop! All of you, stop!"

"Don't you dare hurt my sister!"