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?"

I felt no comfort from Victor's words. Only a suffocating tightness in my chest, nausea rising in my throat.

Abigail, dressed in a puffy short skirt, approached with an apologetic look, offering me a cup of ginger jujube tea.

“Sis, I cried all night over this. You’re my idol—how could I ever play with your life like that? Please forgive me, okay? As for the mystery box…”

She effortlessly changed the subject, slipping a stack of photo cards into my bag.

“People online are saying the woman in the photos is you, but I don’t believe it. After all, my brother has never been into… things like that.”

She clung to Victor’s arm, looking up at him with a sweet, pleading expression.

“Brother, you have to do something. We can’t let outsiders ruin Faith’s reputation. I even spent all my allowance buying a hundred of them!”

Victor gently patted her head, his touch unbearably tender.

“I already gave you my secondary card. Just use that whenever you need money.”

One of the guys who had just been making dirty jokes about me chimed in with a teasing laugh.

“Abby, don’t cry, beautiful. You know it breaks your brother’s heart.”

Victor’s face darkened instantly. He shrugged off his coat and draped it over Abigail’s shoulders.

“Watch your mouth. She’s not someone you can even think about.” Then he turned to me. “Faith, wait here. I’m taking Abby to get changed into something warmer.”

I stood there in the cold for a long time. I used to believe that love could be measured by what someone was willing to give.

Victor had a terrible temper and rarely showed me any real care. Yet, he spent millions setting up an agency for me, gave me the title of his girlfriend and kept me by his side every night.

I thought that meant he loved me. So I gave him everything—my youth, my devotion—without hesitation.

But I was wrong. A person’s "sacrifices" have to be measured against what they actually have to lose.

Victor had more money than he could ever spend, more time than he knew what to do with and more women than he could ever get bored of. To him, I was nothing more than a toy he had paid for—one that wasn’t allowed to resist, only obey.

I left the estate. Suddenly, heat surged through my body. My limbs went weak. The world spun around me as I gripped my head, trying to stay conscious. The teacup slipped from my fingers and shattered on the floor.

"You idiot! It wasn’t enough to seduce my brother—you actually thought you could marry him? Keep dreaming!"

"Should’ve just thrown you off from ten meters up! Dying in your own farewell performance—that would’ve been poetic!"

A sharp pain shot through my scalp.

Abigail let out a delighted laugh, her polished little boot grinding down on my hair. She patted my face again and again, like she was playing with a doll.

Behind her stood a man, his lips stretched into a disturbing grin.

The moment I recognized his face, my blood turned to ice. My ears rang. The metallic taste of blood filled my throat.

I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to beg. "You can have Victor. Take everything. Just let me go, please."

The stack of photo cards Abigail had slipped into my bag scattered across the floor.

The man’s eyes gleamed with sick excitement. He licked his lips, swallowing hard as he took a step closer. A violent tremor ran through my body.

Abigail, meanwhile, was doubled over in laughter. "I heard dancers are basically just high-class escorts—same deal, just pricier than the red-light district! You love your fans so much, right? What's a little fan service?"

The man pulled out a piece of lingerie and held it up against me, chuckling as he sized me up.

I curled into myself, trying to shrink away. Something filthy was shoved into my mouth. I knew exactly what it was.

With every ounce of strength I had left, I bit down. The man let out a shriek, kicking me hard in the stomach.

Pain caught me in its palm as my head snapped back, slamming against the steps. Warm blood trickled down my pale face.

Abigail suddenly dropped to the ground in the most dramatic way, clawing at her own dress. She clutched at her chest as she sobbed.