: A Trip to Jinghai

3

My mind immediately went to Aunt Hannah's bruised legs at the wedding. The more I thought about it, the more something felt wrong.

I told Grandma about my concerns.

But she just laughed and said I was worrying over nothing.

"Your Aunt Hannah is sharp. She wouldn't let anyone take advantage of her. Those bruises on her legs are probably just from dance practice."

"Besides, you know how much your Uncle Vincent dotes on her. He even draws her footbaths himself..."

Grandma wasn't wrong.

Uncle Vincent truly spoiled Aunt Hannah rotten.

Back then, Aunt Hannah had given up her chance to go to college, joining a dance troupe to support the family while also taking care of me. The overexertion took a toll on her health, making it difficult for her to get pregnant. Thankfully, Uncle Vincent stood by her through it all and still asked her to marry him.

After they got married, he was also very generous to our side of the family.

Expensive supplements, the Apple Tech Suite... He'd send whatever was valuable.

But a sense of unease still lingered, and I hesitated before saying:

"Grandma, maybe I should go to King's Harbor and check on Aunt Hannah."

Grandma put down her embroidery needle. "Alright. I know you're worried about your aunt. You can go on my behalf and pay our respects to her in-laws."

I kept my trip to King's Harbor a secret from Aunt Hannah.

Luckily, Aunt Hannah had asked me to mail her something before, so I had her address. As soon as my plane landed, I rushed straight to the residential complex where she and Uncle Vincent lived.

I followed the unit numbers and quickly found their apartment.

I hid in the emergency stairwell, watching the hallway without blinking.

In just ten minutes or so, the elevator doors opened four or five times.

Each time, it was a man who stepped out.

And their destination was, surprisingly, always the same—

Uncle Vincent's apartment.

: 4

4

A knot of suspicion formed in my gut, so I called Aunt Hannah. Her phone was off.

I quickly sent her a message asking why she wasn't answering.

Over an hour later, a door opened. A few men then walked to the elevator bank, chatting as they waited.

They all wore the same lecherous grin.

One of them took a long drag from an E-Cigarette and said:

"This broad's gotten a lot more obedient. Just what you'd expect from a dancer—you can play rough and she won't break. That feeling… Tsk, it's incredible."

"No shit. Young Master Sterling spent a month 'training' her himself. He could tame a wild mare into a little lamb, hahaha."

"The way she cried and begged for mercy… Damn, I almost felt bad for her."

"She's a damn whore. Her family took so much from Young Master Sterling, so what's wrong with letting us guys have a little fun? She's only here for the money, just like all the other bimbos before her."

The men shamelessly described the details, their voices laced with an unsatisfied hunger.

Listening to their lewd conversation echoing down the hall, I bit my lower lip so hard I tasted iron before I slowly let go.

I didn't dare make a sound.

As the elevator doors opened, the noisy hallway gradually fell silent.

After waiting a good while longer, I finally dared to creep out of the stairwell. I stole over to Suite 1702 and pressed my ear against the door.