The pain I expected never came.

The wine bottle never hit my mascot head. Kevin's hand shot out and intercepted it mid-air.

I stood frozen, staring at him in stunned silence.

He slouched lazily on the sofa, his figure cloaked in cigarette smoke that curled around his dark brows like ghosts. His devastatingly handsome face turned toward me, his eyes calm and unreadable.

"Bar staff?"

I nodded.

"Your boss sent you over?"

Another nod.

He stared at me for a moment—and then, unexpectedly, he laughed.

And the thing was—everyone knew Kevin never laughed lightly. If he did, it meant one of two things: someone was about to be drowned in diamonds… or in blood.

My heart thumped wildly. Inside the suffocating mascot costume, my fists were clenched so tightly I could feel the fabric of my uniform tearing beneath my nails. I just wanted to leave. I wanted him to let me go.

The way he held Audrey was too intimate. It made my eyes sting.

"Your dancing…" he said slowly, "reminds me of someone I know. As for the suit—forget it."

His voice was low and composed, threading into my ears like smoke.

I stared at him blankly, his words latching onto my memory like thorns.

Six months ago, when he had fallen ill, I had danced for him once—no costume, no one else around. It was just the two of us in my tiny ten-square-meter apartment. I twirled barefoot on the rough floor, pouring my soul into the movements for his eyes alone.

I never thought he'd remember.

Even more shocking—this man, who never let a grudge go unpaid and operated with surgical cruelty, had let me go. Simply because I danced like someone he knew.

He didn't make things difficult for me. In fact, he reached over, took out a thick stack of cash, and tossed it casually onto the coffee table. I counted it in my head—it must've been five or six thousand dollars. A fortune for a dance. But then again, this was Kevin.

I took the money without hesitation and fled.

Just as I reached the door, I heard voices behind me.

"She's just another gold-digger. Acting all innocent while dancing, what a joke."

"Only took a few thousand to buy her off. What a cheap woman."

I laughed bitterly in my head. For the heirs of dynasties like theirs, a few thousand was pocket change. But they had no idea—for ordinary people like us, that kind of money could change everything.

Kevin lifted his eyes. A sharp, glacial glare sliced through the air toward the voice. Silence fell instantly.

He stood and checked his watch.

"That's enough. Cate's still waiting at home."

"Kevin, can't you stay with me tonight? Every year on your birthday, you've been here with me. Why is this year different—just because of Cate?"

My heart leapt.

If he was willing to leave Audrey for me—did that mean I still mattered to him?

Even a little? Even just a sliver?

So I stayed, despicably, right where I was. Listening.

Kevin stopped walking. He turned back to Audrey, pulling her into his arms and gently wiping away a tear that had gathered in the corner of her eye.

"There, there," he said softly. "I have to give her a little love—just enough to keep her utterly devoted. Otherwise, why would she stay?"

Inside the mascot suit, I could hear my heart shatter.

Tears burst forth. I turned away and fled down the hall, walking faster and faster until I could no longer hear their voices.

…

The moment I stepped through the front door, Kevin's arms encircled my waist from behind. His hot breath brushed against my ear, sending a ripple of shivers down my spine.

He still smelled like tobacco. But underneath that, I caught the lingering scent of Audrey on his clothes.

Something twisted in my stomach.

Nausea surged. I wanted to throw up.

I pushed him away instinctively, but his arms locked tighter around me.

"Cate… where did you go?" he murmured, voice rough and husky, dangerously low. "Didn't you say you'd wait for me at home? That you'd spend my birthday with me?"

His whisper coiled around my mind like velvet rope.

I leaned toward him, almost helplessly.

He covered my eyes with one hand. In the sudden darkness, I could feel him drawing closer… closer…

Our lips met.

But in that instant, my mind conjured the image of him kissing Audrey earlier—their intimacy, his tenderness.

I snapped.

With every ounce of strength I had, I shoved him away.

Staggering toward the table, I clutched its edge and doubled over, dry-heaving.

"Cate!" he roared behind me. "What is this? I go out for one night, and you're already sneaking off with another man? Why else would you push me away?!"

His anger exploded.

He raised his hand and struck me across the face—hard.

The blow sent me crashing to the floor.

Pain shot up from my ankle, and I realized I had hit the sharp edge of the table. Blood streamed from the cut.

I struggled to my feet, biting back the tears. My eyes locked onto Kevin's face—still beautiful, still impossibly composed, but now laced with unease. I felt like crying.

Outside, rain poured from the heavens in torrential sheets. And all I could think of was how it had once rained like this before.

That night, in my rundown apartment, I nursed him back from the brink of death. After that, he had waited in the rain to pick me up after work—soaked to the bone, shivering. He caught a high fever.

At two or three in the morning, I carried him on my back to the hospital. On the way down the stairs, I slipped. I fell from the third floor. My ankle was badly injured.

But I had just paid rent. I'd also covered his hospital bill. So I smiled through the pain and told him, "I'm fine."

Back then, Kevin had been so fragile, so sweet. He clung to the hem of my shirt like a child, feverish and confused. "Cate… feed me my medicine."

I couldn't bear to see him suffer.

Later, when he took me back to his home, he brought me to a doctor.

The doctor frowned after examining my ankle and said, "The bone's dislocated. You should've come sooner. I'm afraid the damage to her right foot may be permanent."

I don't remember Kevin's face then. But I remember what he told me.

"Cate, for the rest of our lives, I'll be your path forward. Wherever you want to go, I'll carry you there myself."

But now, barely six months later, he had forgotten every word he said.

I buried the storm in my eyes, yanked my arm from his grasp, and bit back the howl in my chest. My nails dug into my palm until blood seeped through my fingers.

Finally, I raised my head and said hoarsely, "Kevin, let's break up."

He clenched my hand tightly. His voice was low, trembling ever so slightly.

"No!"

Of course, Kevin wouldn't let me leave.

After all, he still needed me to be Audrey's shield against his enemies.

He locked me up in the villa like a prisoner and assigned two bodyguards to watch me round-the-clock.

I tried escaping more than once, but each attempt ended in failure. I'd barely made it past the gates before being dragged back, or I'd arrive at the airport only to be told my flight had been mysteriously delayed.

The only time he let me out was for his grandfather's birthday.

That day, he leaned in close, his voice low and venomous beside my ear. "Be good now, and don't run."

His hands rested lightly on my shoulders, but I stood frozen at the door, trembling.

Someone glanced at me, puzzled. "Cate, is it the cold? Why are you shaking so much?"

I didn't dare say a word.

It was only in those days that I began to understand the true extent of Kevin's methods. The moment he realized I wanted to break up with him, he didn't hesitate. He kicked me down into the basement, shackled me to the headboard with a pair of custom-made handcuffs, and stood over me with a sneer that could chill the blood.

"Cate, do you have any idea how badly I want to strangle you every time I catch you staring at that man on your phone?"

My eyes flew wide open. "You've been spying on me?"

"On my birthday, I said I'd be back late. Did you sleep with him?" His voice turned lethal. In a blink, he unfastened the watch from his wrist and hurled it at my forehead. The sharp corner split my skin, and warm blood trickled down, matting my hair.

It turned out that everything that night had been a trap. A perfectly orchestrated trap—and he'd been waiting for me to fall.

But I hadn't. I swear, I hadn't.

I never slept with anyone.

Still, he humiliated me deliberately, tearing off my clothes, forcing me to stand undressed before him like some prostitute on display. My pride in tatters, I retaliated. I looked him dead in the eyes and taunted, "That's right. He's better in bed than you ever were. How could I not sleep with him?"

His face contorted with fury.

He stormed toward me, yanked off his tie, and in one swift motion, pinned me beneath him.

His lips crashed onto mine—ice-cold, foreign—and a shudder ran through me from the top of my head to the soles of my feet. I tried to pull away, but my wrists were still bound to the bedframe.

"Cate, you're mine. You hear me? Mine!" he growled.

I turned my face away, refusing his kiss.

That only made him snap harder. He grabbed the back of my head, slamming it down against the pillow, forcing his mouth against mine, prying me open, taking what he claimed was his.

He watched me—watched the tears fall from my eyes, watched my body tremble under his weight.

With callused fingertips, he wiped a tear from my cheek. The gentleness of the gesture only made my shaking worse.

Then he laughed.

"What are you shaking for? Were you just as filthy in his bed? But it doesn't matter. Dead or alive, you're mine. You want to break up with me? Over my dead body!" he sneered.

He was mad—completely, terrifyingly mad.

He shut me away in a basement that only he could enter, and he'd watch me from above, laughing while I begged beneath him, powerless.

And I—fool that I was—I once believed there was love hidden in that obsession.

They say there can be no hate without love.

He hated me deeply, endlessly… so perhaps, somewhere in that darkness, he loved me just a little too.