After I demanded an apology from Arthur’s foster sister for jabbing a needle into my arm for half an hour, pretending it was an injection, my private photos were leaked online the next day, selling for just six dollars each.

Clutching my bruised and swollen hand, I went to find Arthur, only to stumble upon his voice outside a hotel’s hourly room, mingling with laughter.

"Hey, anyone wants a pair of Beatrice’s bunnies?"

"I do, I do! Arthur, you’re too generous, letting the brothers feast their eyes like this!"

"By the way, Arthur, aren’t you worried that after spreading Beatrice’s private photos all over the internet, she’ll break up with you or cause a scene?"

Arthur chuckled lazily, picking up a poker chip imprinted with a photo of my collarbone.

With a flick of his wrist, he tossed it onto the table.

"Would she dare? The whole world has already seen her bare body. Now, she’s probably desperate for me to marry her just to salvage her dignity. How could she possibly break up with me or make a fuss?"

The room filled with crude, vulgar laughter.

"So, Arthur, are you actually going to marry her? If not, once you’re done with her, why not let us have a turn? By the way, what did Beatrice even do to deserve this?"

Arthur, who had been lounging with an air of indifference, suddenly sat up straighter. His voice turned cold with disdain.

"She threw a tantrum just because Isla poked her a few extra times during an injection. She knows Isla is still an intern, yet she has the audacity to demand an apology and humiliate her. She needed to be put in her place. Otherwise, she might start thinking she’s someone important."

A photo of me, bare, exposed, landed on the table with a dull thud. My breath caught in my throat.

——

"Hey, Arthur, what made you price the photos at six dollars each? That’s way too cheap! I could buy the whole damn set for a hundred bucks. Even a single rose on the street costs more than that!"

Arthur curled his lips in disdain.

"I want everyone to know that Beatrice isn’t even worth a cheap rose from the street. She enjoys humiliating Isla, doesn’t she? Well, let’s see how she likes being on the receiving end."

As if struck by a sudden thought, he pulled out his phone and unlocked it.

A second later, fragmented, broken sounds spilled from the speaker.

"I’ve got videos and recordings, too. How about 7.9 dollars per clip? Who’s interested?"

My heart plummeted. Tears had already begun to fall.

I knew exactly when those sounds had been recorded.

The laughter in the room grew shriller, each shout cutting deeper, each jeer a fresh blade against my skin. I felt like I was drowning in a sea of nauseating cheers.

I bit my lip hard, the taste of blood keeping me grounded.

Arthur Evans was someone I had chased for a long time. To the world, he was the perfect boyfriend: attentive, considerate and always putting me first.

For four years, his desires had always burned intensely.

He had all sorts of little preferences, too. He loved buying role-play outfits for me, obsessing over every detail.

I had always assumed it was because they excited him.

I never realized the real reason was that they made recording easier.

The laughter in the room grew sharper, each sound slicing through my skin like a blade. A chill crept up my spine.

Not long ago, when the weather suddenly turned cold, I caught a fever.

No matter how much medicine I took, the symptoms refused to fade. Arthur, ever the doting boyfriend, had insisted on driving me to the hospital where his foster sister worked.

Until then, I had only ever heard Isla Evans’s name in passing from Arthur and his friends.

"Arthur’s little sister, she’s the jewel of his heart. She’s pure and kind and Arthur dotes on her endlessly!"

That much was true. Isla was the same age as me, twenty-four, yet the way she spoke made her seem three or four years younger, drawing out people's instinct to protect her.

But despite this being our first meeting, she made it clear she didn’t like me.

When she administered my injection, I felt every deliberate misstep. Each misplaced needle sent a sharp sting through my skin, the pain intensifying with every prick.

Within moments, the back of my hand was bruised and swollen.

She looked at me with a faintly apologetic expression, yet not once did she utter a word of remorse.

In the end, it was a passing nurse, unable to watch any longer, who found an excuse to send Isla away. Only then was I finally able to receive my IV properly.

Even so, the unease in my chest refused to settle. I insisted she apologize.

Isla was unwilling, her lips pressing into a tight line. But under Arthur’s quiet pressure, she finally relented, muttering three reluctant words.

"I'm sorry."

As soon as the words left her lips, her eyes brimmed with tears and she turned on her heels, fleeing without a second glance.

Arthur didn’t go after her. Instead, he offered me a warm smile, his voice gentle as he reassured me it was nothing.

Yet, in the next breath, he shattered me.

He plastered my most intimate photos across the internet just to soothe Isla’s wounded pride.

Before this, he had held my hand so tenderly, whispering, "Once you meet Isla, we’ll arrange for our parents to meet and talk about marriage."

But if he truly wanted to marry me, why would he do this?

Had it all been a lie? Had every I love you he whispered over the past four years been nothing more than empty words?

Then, a drunken conversation resurfaced in my mind, one of Arthur’s friends laughingly slurring out a truth I had been too blind to see:

"If Arthur didn’t have to pretend Isla was his sister, do you really think it’d be your turn to be called our sister-in-law?"

A sharp pain spread through my chest, knocking the air from my lungs.

I didn’t know how I made it out of that hotel. As soon as I stepped outside, I felt the sharp, judgmental stares filled with ridicule.

Shame pressed down on me, thick and suffocating, wrapping around my trembling form like a second skin. My fingers shook as I dialed my parents' number, my last lifeline.

Because of their work, they left every three years for classified research abroad, unreachable by anyone.

But today, of all days, their experiment had just ended.

The moment the call connected, their familiar voices broke through my fragile composure, shattering the dam I had desperately tried to hold.

I cried until my chest ached and my sobs turned silent. Then, with trembling fingers, I wiped my tears away.

"Mom, Dad... I’ve made my decision. I want to join you in your research. I want to do something meaningful with my life."

Before, I had let Arthur’s whims dictate my choices. A simple complaint, a careless "I don’t want you too far from me. I’d be miserable without you." and I had abandoned my dream without hesitation.

But now, I was done sacrificing myself for a love that never existed.

I had convinced myself that as long as my relationship with Arthur remained steady, it wouldn’t be so bad to build a future with him.

But I had been a fool.

He never loved me.

Someone who truly loved me would never stand by and let me be humiliated, reduced to nothing more than a passing joke for others to sneer at.

I had been blind and naïve.

But at least I still had a way out.

I numbly made my way back to my apartment. The moment I stepped inside, the cold emptiness hit me; Arthur hadn’t been back.

The smart home system detected the harsh glare of the outside light and without hesitation, the curtains slid shut. Shadows swallowed the room, deepening the exhaustion pressing down on me.

I sank onto the carpet, my body heavy with weariness.

I wanted to cry, but no tears came.

Then, a sharp ringtone shattered the silence.

I glanced at the screen. Arthur.

I answered.

"Where are you?"

I parted my lips, but my throat was so dry it burned.

"Home."

"Isla is hosting a gathering and insisted that I bring you along. Are you free? Get ready; I’ll pick you up."

Before I could refuse, Arthur hung up.

He arrived quickly. Even when he saw I hadn’t changed, he only let out a soft sigh.

"I saw the photos online. Don’t overthink it. I believe you, okay?"

As he spoke, he pulled a dress from the wardrobe, one that cinched at the waist, designed to flatter.

"Be good, change into this. It’s not polite to keep everyone waiting."

As he reached out to remove my coat, I suddenly lifted my hand, catching his wrist in a firm grip.

"What exactly do you believe?"

I thought of what I had overheard at the hotel. My voice came colder this time.

"Arthur, how are you planning to play this act with Beatrice?"

Arthur didn’t respond, but suddenly, his phone played Isla’s voice.

"Of course, we’ll make everyone, including her, question whether she was actually being indecent. As for you, Arthur, you’ll step in as her savior when she’s at her lowest. That way, your relationship stays intact and I get my revenge. Arthur, is that okay?"

A long pause followed before Arthur answered, his tone indulgent.

"Okay."

Soon after, my private photos spread across the internet, labeled as promiscuous.

A bitter laugh escaped my lips.

"What is it that you believe?"

I yanked the dress from his hands and tossed it aside, exhaustion seeping into my bones.

"I’m not going. Go enjoy yourself."

Arthur frowned, a flicker of irritation flashing across his face, as expected.

"Beatrice! Stop being so difficult!"

"Isla saw what happened online. She planned this gathering to help you relax. She also wants to take the opportunity to apologize to you properly."

His fingers brushed over the bruises on the back of my hand.

"This is Isla’s kindness. Don’t be ungrateful."

In the end, I was dragged out the door.

Just before stepping out of the car, I reached into my pocket for a mask, but Arthur stopped me.

His gaze was steady and gentle, like a savior reaching out to the abandoned.

"You don’t need it. The innocent has nothing to fear. I believe you, so believe in yourself, too, okay?"

Before I could react, he tossed the mask out the window and pulled me out of the car.

The moment we stepped into the bar, the air shifted.

The music throbbed, but conversations faltered. All eyes turned to me.

Drunken gazes swept over me, crawling like filth against my skin.

Low whispers slithered through the crowd, unfiltered, venomous.

"Look, look! That’s her, right? She acts all cold and elegant, but who knew she was such a slut behind closed doors?"

"Yeah, that’s her! I’d recognize that face anywhere. Damn, she really looks the part, an absolute whore."

Laughter exploded around me, sharp and cruel.

My stomach twisted, bile rising in my throat. But I locked my spine, forcing myself to stand tall.

Arthur’s grip tightened as he pulled me into a private room.

The moment we stepped inside, Arthur let go of my hand.

I dropped my gaze, staring at the tips of my shoes, my heart hammering against my ribs. I searched for a sense of familiarity, for anything to ground me.

But there was nothing.

The eyes in this room were worse, sticky, shameless, suffocating.

"I don’t feel well. I want to leave."

I turned, desperate to escape, but a hand clamped around my wrist.

A rough thumb brushed against my skin, slow and deliberate, sending a sickening wave of goosebumps across my body.

I looked up straight into the leering face of one of Arthur’s friends. The same one who had been the loudest when mocking me at the hotel.

His gaze was brazen, shameless.

"Leaving so soon, sis-in-law? We finally got together; how could you not stay and have a little fun with us?"

The implication dripped from his words, thick and vile.

My stomach twisted violently. The air felt thinner. It was getting harder to breathe.