Emily sat in a cold hospital chair wearing nothing but a thin nightgown, flanked by bodyguards.
The nurse finished drawing yet another tube of blood and glanced nervously at Brenton, whose face was tight with restrained anger and frustration.
"Mr. Richardson, we've already taken 600 milliliters. Any more... it could become dangerous."
Brenton's expression remained stony. "Keep going."
Emily stayed eerily calm on the surface, yet her body grew colder and colder. She could not stop the violent trembling that took over her limbs.
When they finally reached 1,200 milliliters, she passed out.
When she woke again, no one was by her side.
Her head still spinning, Emily reached for her phone to check the time, only to find over ninety-nine unread messages and missed calls.
A terrible premonition settled in her chest.
She opened one of the messages. Vile insults filled the screen. "You disgusting w***e. You cheated on your fiancé, spread your legs for another man, let those filthy photos get taken, and now three years later, you're still posting them for everyone to enjoy. How sick can you be!"
Emily's mind went completely blank. She stared numbly for several seconds before frantically opening her i********: profile.
Someone had logged into her account and posted the explicit photos from three years ago with Marcellus for public "appreciation."
The post now sat at the very top of the trending searches.
Who did it was painfully obvious.
A bitter, self-mocking smile tugged at Emily's lips. She closed the phone almost instantly, lacking the courage to look again.
Those images represented her deepest wound and darkest nightmare of the past three years.
Back then, she had fallen into severe depression and attempted suicide by cutting her wrists. Brenton had saved her, comforted her, and urged her to keep living. Yet he had never truly believed her innocence.
Now he was using those same nightmares to punish her for another woman.
Once the suffocating pain in her heart eased a little, Emily pulled out the IV needle and went to find Brenton.
Sure enough, he was in Scarlett's ward.
She watched from the doorway as Scarlett clung to his arm and acted spoiled while Brenton gently rubbed her head with doting affection.
Emily could not bring herself to step inside.
The next day, Brenton came to her room.
Seeing her deathly pale face, a flicker of reluctance crossed his features, but his voice stayed hard. "Now you know how it feels? Since you understand your mistake, go apologize to Scarlett right now. I'll have the trending post removed and every trace scrubbed from the internet immediately."
Emily gave a very soft laugh. "My mistake? Yes, I understand now."
The only real mistake, she realized, was not leaving him sooner with a colder heart. She would never apologize for something she had never done.
Her calm attitude ignited Brenton's fury. He spoke without thinking. "Refusing to apologize? Fine. Tomorrow is your father's sixtieth birthday. I wouldn't mind arranging for those photos to loop endlessly on the big screen at his celebration."
Emily's head snapped up. For a moment, her ears rang as if raging waves were crashing through her heart.
After a long silence, she finally nodded.
Three years ago, that very scandal had caused her final break with her family. So now, she refused to drag them into her pain again.
After Emily apologized, Brenton immediately pulled the post from trending and erased every trace online. Yet the scars those images left on her heart could never be wiped away.
Seeing her quiet and obedient once more, Brenton felt as if she had returned to the gentle, well-mannered heiress of the Spencer family from before the nightmare.
The anger inside him vanished in an instant.
With rare tenderness, he tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
"Good girl, Emily. I'll pick you up when you're discharged tomorrow. Let's go home together."
Home? She no longer had one.
Emily did not even lift her eyelids.
The next day, Brenton never showed up at the agreed time.
With a self-mocking smile, Emily discharged herself and began walking back alone.
Just as she rounded a corner, a hand clamped over her mouth and nose. She was shoved roughly into a waiting car.
The vehicle sped away and eventually stopped at the back entrance of a private winery. Several men dragged her into a dimly lit wine cellar.
"Who are you?" She curled tightly into a corner. The thick stench of alcohol made her stomach churn.
One of the men chuckled, his greasy fingers stroking her cheek.
"Well, you little b***h. You post those kind of photos online and you're supposed to drop your panties for any man who comes near. You don't get to care who we are. Pretty face like yours got us hard. So today, we're gonna give you what you've been asking for, a real good time."
Aksara