Awakening from a nightmare deep in the night, I found myself slick with cold sweat.

Beside me, Kenneth slept soundly, the steady rhythm of his breathing filling the quiet room.

I slipped out of bed, moving toward the living room for a glass of water.

Just as I reached the bedroom door, a hushed, deliberately lowered voice drifted through the crack of the partially open balcony door.

Kenneth’s voice.

My feet froze.

“…Don’t worry, it was handled cleanly. The guy took the money and vanished from Ashford.”

“Brooklyn? She’s terrified out of her mind—won’t say a word. I told the guy to take all the blame, to threaten her that if she dared go to the police, he’d come after me. She’s obsessed with me. There’s no way she’d let anything happen to me.”

“Hah, tainted? That’s exactly the point. A woman who’s been soiled—who else would want her after this? No one but me. And the Brooklyn family heirloom will have to be handed over to me, nice and obedient.”

“I’m taking her to get the marriage license tomorrow. Once I have the box, I’ll deliver it straight to you.”

“Mila, be patient. Once your wedding gift is secured, we’ll celebrate properly…”

I couldn’t make out another word.

My mind went blank. All I heard was the thunderous pounding of my own heart, the roar of blood rushing in my ears.

He could see.

That assault was his own doing.

All his so-called devotion, the light he supposedly gave up for me—it was all an elaborately staged lie.

That man hadn’t been threatening me; he’d been carrying out Kenneth’s orders.

Fear of something happening to him? He was the mastermind.

My blood ran cold, icing over in my veins. My hands and feet went numb.

I wanted to scream, to rush out and tear that hypocritical mask from his face, but I didn’t even have the strength to move a finger.

Leaning back against the cold wall, I slowly slid down to the floor.

Nineteen years.

I’d known Kenneth for nineteen years.

Playing in the mud together in diapers, and later, when he became the most notorious troublemaker in all of Ashford’s social circles, I was the only little shadow trailing behind him.

When he got into gang fights, I passed him the brick.

When his father chased him down to beat him, I hid him in my family’s attic.

Everyone wondered how an old academic family like the Mus could raise such a wild child, always following Kenneth around.

But they didn’t know—when my parents died unexpectedly in that archaeological accident and the whole world seemed to abandon me, Kenneth stayed by my side. “Brook, don’t be scared,” he said. “From now on, I’m your family.”

Three years ago, to save me from a group of thugs, he injured his eyes. His world plunged into darkness.

Consumed by guilt, I swore I would take care of him for the rest of my life.

He told me, “Silly girl, I saved you willingly. Marrying you is a win for me.”

I believed him.

I believed all his sweet nothings, trusted in the love that made him risk everything for me.

I drowned in the deep affection he wove around me, willingly offering up everything I had—including the one tangible memory my parents left me, the Brooklyn family’s heirloom passed down through generations: that jade heirloom box.

According to ancestral tradition, the heirloom box could only be handed to my legal spouse on the very day we registered our marriage.

That’s why he was in such a hurry to get the license.

That’s why he engineered that brutal assault.

Just to make me ‘tainted,’ to make me cling to him desperately, and then, to hand over the heirloom box willingly… so he could give it to another woman.

Mila.

Our mutual childhood friend, his idealized first love.

That girl who always wore white dresses, whose smile seemed gentle and harmless.

So she was the one he truly wanted to marry.

And me? I was just a tool he used to seize the treasure, a stepping stone to be discarded once it had served its purpose.

Grief and rage, violent and overwhelming, engulfed me, stealing my breath.

The balcony door slid open. Kenneth’s footsteps approached.

I snapped my eyes shut, feigning unconsciousness.

“Brook?”

He walked over and gave me a gentle shake, his voice holding a trace of barely perceptible tension.

I could feel his gaze on me, sharp as a scalpel, sweeping over my face, assessing whether I was truly out or faking it.

After a few seconds, he must have decided I was genuinely passed out. Scooping me up with feigned urgency, he carried me swiftly back to the bedroom.

His movements were steady, without a hint of groping or hesitation.

How could a man blind for three years navigate a dark room with such familiarity?

As he laid me on the soft bed, I caught a faint, unfamiliar whiff of women’s perfume on him.

Mila’s favorite scent.

So tonight… he’d just come from seeing her.

My heart died completely.

Lying in the dark, I stared wide-eyed, sleepless through the rest of the night.

As dawn began to lighten the sky, I picked up my phone, scrolled to a number I hadn’t contacted in ages, and sent a single message:

—*Louis, I’m in trouble. Can you help me?*

Louis called back almost immediately.

His voice was as calm and steady as ever. “Brooklyn? What’s going on?”

Muffling the phone, I slipped into the bathroom and locked the door. My voice dropped to a whisper. “Louis, I can’t talk. Just tell me—if I wanted to file charges against someone powerful here in Ashford, what are our chances?”

Silence stretched over the line.

Louis had grown up with me, Kenneth, and Mila.

But he was never like the rest of us.

He came from old-money political stock. Could’ve walked the gilded path laid out for him. Instead, he walked away and became a detective—a choice that nearly got him disowned.

In our world, he was the outlier. Right now, he was my only lifeline.

“With solid evidence,” he said, his tone leaving no room for doubt, “it doesn’t matter who they are. No one’s above the law. Trust me on this, Brooklyn.”

“I do. I trust you.”

Before hanging up, I added quietly, “Meet me at the county clerk’s office tomorrow. Ten sharp.”

…

The next morning, Kenneth was up early, humming in the kitchen while he made breakfast. His mood was suspiciously bright.

He brought a sandwich and milk to the bedside, his unseeing eyes aimed gently in my direction. “Rise and shine, Brooklyn. Eat up, then we’ll go make it official at the clerk’s office.”

I stared at the ugly scar carved into his face—a special-effects wound turned permanent. To sell the blind act, he’d mutilated his own handsome features.

A born actor.

I sat up, face blank, took the plate, and ate mechanically.

When I didn’t speak, his voice softened. “What’s wrong? Still shaken from yesterday? Don’t be. It’s over. I’ll treat you twice as good now. No one will ever hurt you again.”

I nearly choked on my milk.

Lifting my head, I locked eyes with his, searching that manufactured darkness for any crack in the performance.

“Kenneth.” I let each word land. “Do you actually love me?”

He paused, then gave a light laugh, reaching to touch my hair. “Silly question. Why would I marry you if I didn’t?”

I pulled back from his hand. “Then promise me something. After we sign the papers today—after you get the jade box—I want you to say it in front of everyone. Say that you, Kenneth, will love only Brooklyn for the rest of your life. That you’ll never betray me.”

His hand froze.

The air went still.

Then the doting mask slid back into place. He smiled, indulgent. “Of course. Anything you want, you get.”

I looked down, hiding the inferno in my eyes.

Fine, Kenneth.

You said it.

Let’s see how you handle the show Mila and I have planned for you today.

Before we left, Kenneth made sure to call all his and Mila’s old friends—said he wanted them there to witness our happiness.

I knew better. They came to watch me crawl. To see the “soiled” woman beg to marry him, hand over her family heirloom, and fund Mila’s dream wedding.

I chose a white dress with the highest collar I owned and caked concealer over the brutal marks on my neck.

In the mirror, I forced a stiff smile.

*Don’t be afraid, Brooklyn.

The gates of hell are open. And everyone who belongs there is walking right in.*

Outside the Civil Affairs Bureau, the cacophony of the crowd was overwhelming.

Kenneth and Mila’s old clique of childhood friends had arrived early, each dressed impeccably, their faces alight with smirks of anticipation.

Mila wore a delicate pink dress and clung sweetly to Kenneth’s arm as she murmured, “Kenneth, I’m so happy for you and Brooklyn. Today’s the day you finally make it official.”

As she spoke, she shot a challenging glance my way—her eyes brimming with naked contempt and triumph.

They seemed to say: *See this, Brooklyn? The man you love most is about to hand your family’s most precious treasure right to me. And you? You’re just a pathetic little clown.*

Kenneth patted her hand, his tone softer than I’d ever heard. “Thank you for being here, Mila.”

Their friends began to stir.

“Way to go, Ken! About to get the girl *and* the prize!”

“Seriously, a two-for-one deal! The legendary Jade Cicada!”

“Brooklyn, we heard that jade box is priceless. Mind giving us a peek today?”

Each teasing jab pierced my heart like a needle.

I lowered my gaze, my fingers tightening around the family heirloom hidden in my bag, nails digging into my palm.

Kenneth turned vaguely in my direction. “Brooklyn, do you have it? Everyone’s waiting.”

His tone carried a faint, almost imperceptible edge of impatience and greed.

I took a deep breath, lifted my head, and let my calm gaze sweep over everyone present.

“Of course I brought it.”

I spoke slowly, my voice soft yet clear enough to reach every ear. “But before I take it out, I’d like everyone to see something else first.”

All eyes fixed on me.

Smiling sweetly, Mila pulled a tablet from her Hermès bag and held it up. “Is this what you mean, Brooklyn?”

She giggled, her words dripping with suggestion. “It’s a little surprise Kenneth and I prepared. It shows Brooklyn’s… most *passionate* side.”

As soon as she finished, the tablet screen lit up, playing a degrading, gut-wrenching video.

In the dim footage, a woman struggled beneath two men, her cries muffled by a rough hand.

Though the face was unclear, the familiar loungewear and my own hoarse, choked sobs were enough for anyone who knew me to recognize the person on the screen.

Instantly, the air erupted with knowing snickers and hushed whispers.

“Damn, she went that far?”

“Who would’ve guessed? Brooklyn always played the innocent angel. Turns out she’s wild in private.”

“Two guys… Tsk. And Ken’s still marrying her?”

Mila looked at me triumphantly, her eyes overflowing with schadenfreude. “Brooklyn, how could you be so careless? If a video like this got out, your family’s reputation would be ruined. Kenneth is only marrying you—a woman who’s been… *used*—out of the goodness of his heart.”

Her friends chimed in eagerly.

“That’s right! Kenneth’s being more than generous!”

“Brooklyn, you should hand over that heirloom right now to thank him!”

“If it weren’t for Kenneth, you’d be branded a slut by everyone!”

The venomous words crashed over me like a tidal wave.

I looked at their twisted faces, at Kenneth standing among them, the corner of his mouth curled in a smug, victorious sneer.

He thought this video would shatter me, strip me of all dignity, force me to meekly hand over the jade box and leave me at their mercy.

He was wrong.

Under their gloating stares, I slowly, deliberately, unfastened the top button of my dress.

Everyone froze.

Mila’s smile stiffened. “Brooklyn, what… what are you doing?”

I ignored her, undoing the second button, then the third.

As the collar fell open, the bruises and bite marks on my neck and collarbone—marks I’d hidden with concealer—were laid bare in the harsh daylight.

A shocking, brutal sight.

The surrounding snickers died instantly.

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd as they stared at me in disbelief.

I lifted my hand, pulled up the hem of my skirt, and revealed my thighs, covered in dark bruises and scratches.

“Mila,” I said, lifting my eyes to meet hers, my gaze like shards of ice. “You call this ‘passionate’? Then tell me—what kind of ‘consent’ leaves marks like these?”

My voice was quiet, but it carried the weight of a hammer, crashing down on every heart present.

“What kind of ‘wild private life’ requires being gagged so brutally you can’t even scream for help?”

“You all say Kenneth is my savior, that I should be grateful he’s willing to marry a ‘tainted’ woman.”

I let out a cold laugh and took a step toward Kenneth.

“Then why don’t you ask him where he was when it happened?”

“I’ll tell you,” I said, stopping right in front of him, my eyes locked on his disturbingly vacant ones. “When it happened, my wonderful fiancé was wearing headphones, mopping the floor leisurely, less than ten feet away from me.”

Dead silence fell.

Every gaze shifted from me to Kenneth—shock, doubt, disbelief.

Kenneth’s face went deathly pale.

He clearly hadn’t expected me to dare say all this out loud, in front of everyone.

He instinctively took a step back, forcing a veneer of composure as he roared, “Brooklyn! You’re insane! What kind of nonsense are you spouting!”

“Nonsense?”

I gave a bitter smile, grabbed his hand, and pressed it hard against the deepest bite mark on my arm. “Feel it! Tell me, did I bite myself?”

His hand trembled violently.

In that moment, I saw it clearly—the pupils of his “blind” eyes contracted sharply with terror.

“Enough!”

Mila shrieked, rushing forward to shove me away. “Brooklyn, you lunatic! You just don’t want to give Kenneth the box, so you’re making up these lies to slander him!”

Her friends snapped out of their stupor and rallied behind her.

“Exactly! Kenneth would never do that!”

“She’s lost her mind!”

“Call the police! Let them sort this out!” someone shouted.

“Fine.”

I shook off Mila’s hand, met the eyes of the crowd, and spoke with quiet, ironclad certainty. “Call them.”

“Let the police investigate thoroughly. Let them find out who filmed this video, and who ordered those two men to commit such a savage act against me!”

The moment my words fell, a steady, authoritative voice came from behind the crowd.

“That won’t be necessary.”

The crowd parted automatically.

A young man in a Civil Affairs Bureau uniform, wearing an official ID badge, stepped forward calmly.

He removed his gold-rimmed glasses, revealing handsome, resolute features.

It was Louis.

He walked to my side, took off his own jacket, and draped it gently over my trembling shoulders.

“Allow me to introduce myself.”

His sharp gaze swept over every panicked face present. “Louis. City Criminal Investigations.”