I turned towards the voice and saw a striking man standing in the doorway. Four bodyguards in black suits flanked him from behind.

He wore a tailored charcoal-gray suit that day. At nearly six-foot-three, he stood out in any crowd, and his face looked like something straight off a magazine cover.

If I had to find something to criticize, it was the icy coldness in his eyes when he looked at me.

He strode into the room, and his leather shoes made a dull, heavy sound against the marble floor.

“Nicole,” he said, his voice laced with impatience. “I told you to come here to try on the wedding dress. How could you start a fight in public and cause such a scene?”

Nicole’s expression shifted instantly. She pouted and put on a wounded face. “Leon, she started it! She cursed at me first, and then she even tried to take the dress away from me!”

I studied the man in front of me. “So you’re Leon?” I asked. “My soon-to-be husband?”

“Yes, I’m Leon Scott,” he said, turning to face me. His voice came out cold.

I opened my mouth to introduce myself. “Nice to meet you, I’m—”

He raised his hand and cut me off. “Don’t bother. I have zero interest in who you are.”

I nearly questioned my own hearing — surely I hadn’t heard that right.

I was the only daughter of the Moretti family, the most cherished princess of the New York underworld.

Yet, my fiancé had the nerve to talk to me like that before the wedding even started? Unbelievable!

“Leon,” I said, forcing my voice to stay calm despite the fire burning in my chest. “I know we’ve never met before, and I know this marriage was arranged by our fathers. But cutting me off mid-sentence like that—don’t you think that’s a little rude?”

My words wiped the indifference off his face. He gave me a sidelong glance, and a mocking smile curled at the corner of his mouth. “Rude? Rosalina, take a good look at yourself in the mirror. Do you honestly think you deserve someone like me?”

His eyes swept over me from head to toe—the knit sweater, the jeans, the flat shoes.

In a room filled with haute couture gowns, I did look like a tourist who had wandered in by accident.

He let out a cold snort. “Let me make this crystal clear. If my father hadn’t forced me to marry you, I wouldn’t even spare you a second glance—a nobody with no background and no talent, just a pretty face.”

He raised his voice on the last few words, as if he wanted everyone in the room to hear. “And don’t get it twisted—marrying into the Scotts doesn’t make you one of us. I will never touch you. Not now, not ever.”

I knew he had no idea who I really was. And I had no interest in arguing with him.

I waved my hand dismissively, and a faint smile even tugged at my lips. “Since you’ve made yourself so clear, I won’t push it. But there’s one thing—there’s no point in going through with our upcoming wedding, is there?”

I had hoped we could part ways peacefully. But this man wouldn’t listen. He probably thought I was just throwing a tantrum.

“Rosalina, don’t play hard to get with me!” He stepped forward and towered over me. “Do you have any idea how many women in New York are dying to marry into my family?”

Instead of getting angry, I laughed. “Leon, I don’t care what other women want. I just don’t want anything to do with you. And as for your precious Scott family—all I can say is, they mean nothing to me.”

The moment the words left my mouth, the entire fitting room erupted.

“Oh my God, this girl is insane! She actually spoke to Mr. Scott like that—is she out of her mind?” one of the shop assistants covered her mouth in disbelief.

“No kidding. Leon is every woman’s fantasy in New York—rich, good-looking, tall, and built. And this clueless woman doesn’t even understand how fortunate she is—she’s been handed the chance of a lifetime!” another assistant chimed in with a shake of her head.

“I’d wear a trash bag if I had to, as long as I got to marry into the Scott family,” someone else muttered under her breath. “That’s like winning the lottery!”

The whispers kept coming from every direction, but I didn’t care.

In New York, the Scott family was indeed a prominent name. Their business empire stretched across the entire country. But in the face of absolute power, all that money was just numbers on a page.

I still remembered Anthony Scott—Leon’s father, the family patriarch, the titan of industry who commanded respect in every boardroom—bowing and scraping in front of my father.

He had promised, with his hand over his heart, that Leon would take good care of me.

He probably had no idea yet that his son, with his own hands, had just destroyed the one connection that could have elevated the Scott family to heights they had never dreamed of.

“Rosalina!” Leon’s voice shot up an octave, and a flicker of genuine anger finally showed in his eyes. “I’m asking you one last time. Do you really want to call off the wedding?”

I met his gaze without flinching. Then I gave a slow, firm nod. “Absolutely.”

Without waiting for Leon’s response, I turned to leave, but Nicole wouldn’t let it go.

Emboldened by Leon’s presence, she stepped in front of me, blocking my path. “Bitch, don’t you dare run! You hit me in front of everyone and humiliated me—we’re not done here!”

I shot her a cold look. “What do you want to do about it?”

Nicole smirked and thought I was scared. She raised her hand and swung it toward my face. “I’ll stop when I’m satisfied!”

I caught her wrist mid-air. Then I raised my other hand and slapped her across the face.

The crack echoed through the silent fitting room. Her eyes went wide with disbelief, and tears welled up instantly. “Bitch! How dare you!”

I slapped her again with my backhand. “Are you satisfied now?” I asked, my voice flat.

Those two slaps knocked all the arrogance out of Nicole. She covered her reddening cheeks and scurried behind Leon, tugging at his suit sleeve.

She sobbed, “Leon! You have to stand up for me! She hit me! Right in front of you!”

Leon pulled Nicole into his arms and gently brushed his fingers over her flushed cheek.

When he lifted his head and looked at me, his eyes had turned to ice. “You touch my woman,” he said, his voice dropping to a low growl. “You’ve got a death wish.”

He raised his hand, and the four bodyguards behind him immediately stepped forward, forming a circle around me.

Before they could touch me, I struck first.

I threw a punch at the closest guard and landed it square on his nose. He let out a grunt and staggered backward, crashing into a rack of gowns.

Though I could easily take down one, I was outnumbered.

Another guard grabbed my arm from behind and slammed me onto the floor. My knees hit the marble with a sickening crack, and pain shot up my spine.

Then the third guard drove his boot into my side. The pain folded me in half.

They yanked me back to my feet and dragged me in front of Leon, my arms twisted behind my back. Every movement sent a fresh wave of agony through my ribs.

Leon wrapped his arm around Nicole’s shoulder and looked down at me, a cold smirk playing on his lips.

“Nicole,” he said, “do whatever you want with her today. I’ll handle the consequences.”

With those words, Nicole’s confidence came roaring back. She crouched down in front of me and slapped me hard twice across the face. My cheeks burned and soon swelled.

Then she spat right in my face. “Bitch! You were so tough a minute ago. Where’s that attitude now, huh?”

Her saliva dripped down my chin. I turned my head away in humiliation and clenched my jaw so hard my teeth ached.

Yet, she still wasn’t done.

She drove her heel into my stomach. I let out a choked groan and curled into myself, my abdomen feeling like it had been hit with a sledgehammer.

I lifted my head and looked at her, then at Leon. My voice trembled with pain. “Listen, you’ll pay for this. Both of you!”

Nicole laughed, loud and cruel. She grabbed my chin with her nails and forced my head up. “The Scott family is one of the three biggest powers in New York. What are you going to do to us? Come on, you’re just a nobody. Today I’m going to show you what happens when you cross me!”

She reached into her bag and pulled out a small eyebrow razor. The tiny silver blade glinted under the lights.

She held it tight, and without a moment’s hesitation, she dragged it across my face.

A searing pain tore through my cheek. The skin split open, and blood beaded along the cut. Warm liquid trickled down my jaw and soaked into my light-colored sweater, blooming into red stains.

Someone nearby gasped, “We told her not to mess with the Scott family. She wouldn’t listen. Now look at her.”

“Such a pretty face. Shame about the scars.” Another voice let out a sigh.

“People like us—we should know our place and don’t poke the bear,” someone else chimed in.

Nicole raised the razor again. The cold metal pressed against my cheekbone.

Fear gripped my heart. I was terrified, genuinely terrified. The thought of being scarred for life sent ice through my veins.

I hadn’t done anything wrong—she was the one who’d provoked me and hurled insults at me first.

But at this moment, pride was a luxury I couldn’t afford, so I swallowed it whole and decided to beg for mercy.

I forced the words out, my voice hoarse with panic. “I’m sorry. The dress is yours. I shouldn’t have fought you over it.”

Revenge could wait. Right now, I needed to save my face.

But instead of letting me go, Nicole pressed down and sliced another cut across my right cheek. The fresh wound crossed over the old one, and blood dripped in a steady stream.

She let out a snort. “Too late for sorry, bitch! You think I’m letting you off that easy? Not until I’ve had my fill!”

I cried out and turned to Leon, tears mixing with blood as they ran down my face. “Leon, do you even know who I am? You’re going to regret this. You and her both—you’ll regret every single thing you’ve done to me today!”

Leon kept his hands in his pockets and tilted his head with a dismissive sneer. “Who you really are? You’re nobody. Just some lowlife's daughter who somehow hypnotized my father into forcing this marriage on me.”

Nicole crouched in front of me and tapped the flat side of the razor against my unscarred cheek. Her eyes gleamed with malice. “Your father is trash. So that makes you trash, too. I’ll strip you down in front of everyone, so you might remember this lesson well.”

She reached for my collar, and I was stunned.

A panicked cry tore out of me. “Don’t touch me!”

Right then, my phone rang from inside my bag.

I didn’t need to check the screen. I knew it was my father. That old song, the one he used to whistle for me, was my ringtone for him.

A spark of hope ignited. I thrashed and struggled, desperate to reach it, but the two guards held me down.

Nicole fished the phone out of my bag, swiped to answer, and my father’s gentle voice came through the speaker.

“Rosie? How’s the dress fitting? Why does it take so long for you to answer the call?”

I screamed with everything I had, “Dad! Help! Come get me! They hurt me and that woman is even trying to strip me!”

My father’s voice hardened instantly. “What?! Who did this to you?!”

Nicole yelled into the speaker, “I did that. Your little mutt of a daughter was asking for it, and I’m giving her exactly what she deserves!”

At those words, my father’s voice dropped to a low growl. “I don’t care who you are. Let my daughter go right now, or I swear—when I get there, you’ll regret it.”

“Come if you dare! I’m right here waiting. I’ll teach you a hard lesson too!” Nicole spat.

Then she hung up the call and slammed the phone onto the floor.

The screen shattered into a spiderweb of cracks, and the battery popped out and rolled into the corner.

Nicole slapped me across the face once more. “Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Your father’s just as arrogant as you—and it’s really starting to piss me off. When he gets here, I’ll make sure he pays for it too.”

Leon chuckled and patted Nicole on the shoulder. Then he leaned down until his face was inches from mine. “You heard her. If your old man shows up, he’s kneeling right next to you.”

I lay pinned to the floor, the two guards pressing me down.

Blood from my cheeks dripped into my mouth, and the taste of metal mixed with the bitterness of humiliation.

Minutes crawled by, but somehow it felt like an eternity.

Then, through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the boutique, I saw a familiar black stretch limousine pull up along the street outside.

The door opened, and my father stepped out. Six bodyguards in dark suits followed close behind.

His voice carried from the doorway. The quiet authority in it seemed to press against the walls, and every murmur in the fitting room died at once.

“Tell me,” he said. “Who exactly is it that wanted to teach me a hard lesson?”