Before the show, Victor’s stepsister Abigail cut my safety rope. I was performing a dance 30 feet in the air—one wrong move and I’d hit the ground, broken without a chance of recovery.

Sharp-eyed fans dug up Abigail’s personal information and by the next day, limited-edition lingerie mystery boxes featuring my high-def private photos were flying off the shelves online.

I turned to my manager and fiance, Victor Whytton, for help, but outside the VIP room, I overheard him laughing with no care.

“Man, I’ve done you a solid! Let’s see who gets the hot mystery edition, complete with the real deal pics!”

“Ugh, these stockings are the standard ones, right? But hey, they’ve got some flavor! Big thanks to Vic for the generous share!”

“Come on, Mr. Whytton, Faith’s your fiancée and the artist you’ve poured money into to make famous. Aren’t you worried she’ll flip out, break up with you and leave you with nothing?”

Victor twirled a sexy pair of panties around his finger, his motions languid, his tone dripping with disdain.

“Her? She’s got nothing, I hold her life in my hands. She’s just waiting for me to ask her to marry me. Besides, she’s been exposed already—who else would even dare to take her on?”

Amid the mocking laughter, a timid lackey stood up.

“But Faith hasn’t done anything wrong! The fans just wanted Abigail to apologize—they only leaked a few public life photos, not even really bullying her online!”

Victor’s expression twisted with rage. He lashed out, kicking the guy twice before grinding his polished dress shoe into his chest.

“The hell are you barking for? Abby is sweet and innocent—she looked up to Faith like an idol! And just because she accidentally brushed against the safety rope, Faith manipulated her fans on Abby and turned the internet against her. So what if I sold a few of her lingerie sets as payback? Is that really so extreme?”

The other lackeys, eager to please, jumped in and beat the guy bloody.

The sickening thuds of fists against flesh landed like blows to my own heart, leaving my chest tight and numb.

——

Their flattery never stopped.

“Vic, you’re a genius! We made millions in one night! And Faith’s fans? Dumb as hell—shelling out $999 for bargain-bin lingerie that costs cents to produce. We couldn’t keep up with demand!”

“You don’t get it—Mr. Whytton had it all planned out! The lingerie wasn’t even the main attraction. The real money’s in the collector’s cards inside—high-def, private shots of Faith in matching sets. He printed thousands of them!”

“She acts all high and mighty, but turns out she knows exactly how to please a man. Bet she’s been treating you real nice, huh, Vic?”

That last bit hit just right—Victor soaked up the praise, smug and satisfied.

He stomped down heavily on my younger brother's chest a few times.

"I'm in a good mood today, so I'll spare you. Everyone, listen up—Abby is my treasure. If anyone dares lay a finger on her, I'll drag them down into the mud and they’ll never get back up. Not even Faith is an exception! A mere bedwarmer thinks she can rise above Abby? Dream on!"

My younger brother, now groveling at Victor's feet, quickly changed his tune, joining the others in branding me as nothing more than a shameless woman.

The atmosphere in the room grew lively again.

After a few rounds of drinks, Victor's fellow rich colleague got emboldened by the alcohol. He suggested, "A few hundred grand is nothing. Mr. Whytton, don’t you have something more exciting for us? Let's do something big, take it to the next level!"

Victor gave him a smug, "You’re on the right track" kind of look, then started rummaging through his phone and casually connected it to the screen.

I was a dancer, so I was used to being filmed.

On the big screen, my graceful dance moves and delicate face were on full display. But I never imagined that one day, the screen would show me flushed with desire.

The constant pointing and mocking felt like daggers stabbing straight into my chest.

What drowned me out wasn’t applause. It was an overwhelming tide of shame.

I gripped the door handle tightly, my nails digging into my palm. The blood stained the glass door, but I still couldn’t bring myself to open it.

Years ago, I was being stalked by a delusional fan. Victor came into the scene like some hero out of a movie. He swooped in to save me. After that, he seemed to fell for me at first sight.

He threw millions into setting up a talent agency just for me and boldly declared that he was going to marry me.

I admired him, both as a man and as someone who believed in me when no one else did. I quickly fell for him, too.

But in bed, Victor had all sorts of strange fetishes that he insisted on trying out with me. He was the only man I’d ever been with, so I thought that’s just how normal couples were. I even felt guilty at times, afraid I might not be able to satisfy him.

What I never expected was that the man who had elevated me would be the one to drag me straight to hell.

The mockery in the private room grew louder. A group of people was selecting and compressing hundreds of gigabytes of high-definition footage.

Tears blurred my vision. I finally remembered the first time I’d heard the name Abigail.

It was during a game of Truth or Dare at a drinking session. Someone dared Victor to rank the most important women in his life.

Without hesitation, he blurted out, “Abigail, my mom, Faith.”

As he said this, he was holding my hand, our fingers intertwined, palms touching.

Who was Abigail? Confused, I looked at Victor.

Beneath his calm expression, I could see a flicker of something darker.

Everyone around me put on a look of pity.

“Ugh, we’ve been shipping them for over a decade and who would’ve thought it’d end up like this, with them as step siblings?”

So, Abigail was his step sister. The question that had almost slipped out of my mouth got swallowed back down.

Since he had mentioned me, I still felt a flicker of gratitude. It wasn’t until I met Victor’s parents that I learned the Whyttons had adopted the little princess.

The little princess had lost her parents and Victor's mother had taken her in as her own, while Victor treated her like a sister.

Abigail had been studying abroad, so I only knew her by name—just a curious little sister-in-law. Later, the Whyttons insisted I stay out of the public eye.

The agency Victor had set up for me stopped taking gigs and was preparing to shut down.

In the name of being with the one I loved, I agreed to this unreasonable demand. The one condition I had was that I could hold a farewell performance for myself and my fans.

At the time, I didn’t know that this performance would be where I first crossed paths with Abigail.

Her little, deliberate actions... She was the cause of my falling accident. Also, she caused my skull crack along with my injured limbs.

Afterward, I found myself tangled in a scandal, destroyed by Victor’s revenge, my reputation in tatters.

I staggered out of the club, my mind a blur.

There was a man standing at my door, giving me a creepy grin and holding a pink paper box. It was the lingerie mystery box that had gone viral online the night before.

His leering, greasy gaze mixed with a disturbing, perverted look that seemed like it could pierce through my skin.

I rushed home, almost running and locked all the doors and windows, pulling the curtains shut tight. Then, in the suffocating darkness of the room, I slumped onto the floor.

My phone buzzed. It was Victor.

“Abby’s family’s hosting a welcome dinner for her. She wants you there. I’ll pick you up in 30 minutes.”

He didn’t ask where I was, nor did he wait for my response.

As always, it was an order. After delivering his message, he hung up. I swallowed my frustration and turned to finish packing.

Half an hour later, I received an invitation from the French National Ballet.

“Ms. Paston, although you’ve declined our invitation several times, your aerial dance performance was truly breathtaking. We’d like to extend another offer. Would you consider joining our troupe?”

The voice on the other end was soft yet carried a strength that seemed to pulse through my veins.

I wiped away my tears and responded with conviction, “I accept!”

Victor arrived soon after. When he saw me packing without makeup or fuss, he nodded with approval.

“We just got engaged, so there’s no rush to move into the Whyttons' place. We’ll have the servants take care of it when the time comes. Don’t worry, everyone knows the mystery box thing was just a prank. My parents won’t make a fuss about it.”

Victor pulled out a gift box tied with a delicate ribbon.

“Abby picked out a dress for you. Try it on, see if it fits.”

The dress was a low-cut, backless gown with a slit running all the way up to my thigh. It didn’t look like an evening dress. It looked more like… lingerie.

Victor’s fingers brushed behind my ear as he expertly started undoing my clothes.

I shoved his hand away in disgust. “Victor, my private photos and videos are being sold like crazy and you still call this a prank? Tell me, are you humiliating me, or are you humiliating yourself?”

His expression didn’t change, but in my mind, I could still hear the conversation I had overheard at the club.

“Mr. Whytton, those private photos came from you. How do you plan on explaining that to Faith?”

Before Victor could respond, Abigail’s sweet, teasing voice came through the speakerphone.

“Explain? Why would anyone need to have explanation for Faith? It’s not like anyone forced her to pose like that!”

“Even if we take the most generous view of this—look at what she did to me! I sent her flowers out of kindness and she turned around and manipulated her fans on me! My personal photos are everywhere, yet people have to pay to see hers. If anything, she should be grateful that my brother showed her mercy!”

“Come on, big bro, stop wasting your breath. Just say it was all a prank! That way, you’ll look forgiving, like you’re standing by her no matter what and I get to teach her a lesson. Two birds, one stone!”

His words were like ice picks, laced with barbs, stabbing straight into my eardrums. They shattered every last bit of reason left in me.

Before the performance, Abigail had played the role of a devoted fan, handing me flowers while I signed an autograph. In that moment, she discreetly cut my safety harness.

What she didn’t know was that one of my most loyal fans in the front row had set up a camera in advance. Every single one of her little tricks had been caught on tape.

After I completed my performance, my fans leaked Abigail’s public information online.

She was young and I had survived without injury. So, I asked my fans to stop the harassment. All I wanted was a simple apology from her. That was it.

Standing outside the private room, I still foolishly hoped that Victor would say something in my defense—that he would put an end to this ridiculous farce.

Instead, Victor agreed to everything Abigail wanted, smiling at her with indulgent affection.

“Abby, consider it done.” Warmth was devoid from his voice.

His brows were tightly furrowed, irritation written all over his face as he yanked my clothes off with force.

“Faith, you have no right to make a scene.”

He shoved the dress over my body, rough and impatient.

“Abby didn’t even get a chance to rest after her flight—she went straight to watch your performance. And you repaid her by pushing her to the brink over something so trivial? Don’t you feel even a little guilty?”

So that was it? To him, my life had been nothing more than a trivial matter.

After seeing the bruises over my body, Victor finally softened his tone.

"I'm your fiancé, but I'm also Abby’s brother—I have to protect both of you. As her sister-in-law, can you not hold grudges against a younger girl?" With that, he dragged me to the Whytton estate.

Victor's mother barely spared me a glance before covering her mouth and nose in disgust. His father ignored my outstretched hand, turning instead to scold Victor.

"That trashy mystery box even ended up in the hands of the servants. Can you stop bringing garbage into this house?"

They stood there like the sun—radiant, untouchable—looking down on me like I was nothing more than a rat crawling through the gutters, afraid I might stain their light.

One of the rich heirs blew a smoke ring in my face and let out a loud, mocking laugh.

"Damn, Sis! You’re dressed pretty bold tonight. Never been with a dancer before—Mr. Whytton, you sure are lucky!" Someone else chimed in with a smirk.

"She might be fun, but only after the boss is done with her!" The first guy shrugged. "Relax, I wouldn’t dare. I’m just jealous, that’s all. I’ve seen plenty of flirty women before, but I’ve never seen one this wild!"

Victor ran his hand along my stiffened back, murmuring in a low voice, "They’re just spoiled brats who don’t know proper manners."

He added, "Don’t take it to heart, okay?"