Emily understood instantly. These men had seen the photos circulating online and had come looking for her.
Before she could think of any way to escape, they had already pinned her down with practiced coordination. Several hands clamped tightly around her throat.
Then, icy alcohol was forced down her throat.
The liquid that spilled over ran down her neck, soaking her clothes.
The men laughed with twisted excitement, their hands roaming freely and roughly over her body.
Emily felt as though she had lost all her senses. She stared blankly with unfocused eyes at the glaring light above, numb to everything.
It was as if countless hands were dragging her straight into hell.
Only after they had poured an uncountable amount of liquor into her did they stop.
By then, her top was nearly torn to shreds.
One man laughed loudly as he admired her broken state. He unbuckled his belt and stepped closer. Suddenly, the door was kicked open with a thunderous bang.
Brenton stood in the doorway. The moment he saw Emily, his heart nearly stopped.
His face remained expressionless, but his eyes burned blood-red. The look in them sent cold sweat down everyone's spine.
While the men stood frozen, he surged forward and kicked the leader violently to the ground.
Bodyguards poured in from outside and quickly subdued the attackers.
Yet Brenton was far from satisfied. He continued beating them until they were covered in blood.
The scene he had witnessed upon kicking down the door had stripped away every ounce of his reason.
A bodyguard grabbed his arm. "Mr. Richardson, calm down! Ms. Spencer, she..."
Only then did Brenton snap back to reality. He lifted Emily into his arms in a panic and rushed her to the hospital.
She was severely allergic to alcohol.
"Emily, breathe! Emily, don't fall asleep. I'm taking you home. I'm here now. Don't be afraid. I came to save you. I'm sorry..."
Emily lay like a lifeless doll in his arms, eyes wide and unblinking, her breathing faint and barely detectable.
After six hours of emergency surgery and two critical condition notices, she was finally pulled back from the brink and moved to a regular ward.
When she woke, Brenton was sitting by her bedside, looking utterly exhausted and worn out, his eyes filled with deep guilt.
She stayed in the hospital for several days, and he never left her side for a single moment.
His attitude toward her had returned to the passionate warmth of their best year together. Yet Emily remained indifferent, showing neither sorrow nor joy.
She responded to every word he spoke, but Brenton could not shake the growing unease in his heart.
"You still need a few more days before discharge. I'll call the planner and postpone tomorrow's wedding. Once you're fully recovered, we'll hold it right away."
Emily's eyes shifted slightly, then lowered again, as if nothing had happened.
Her phone buzzed once. Brenton picked it up to hand to her, but accidentally glanced at the screen.
"Plane ticket?"
"You saw it wrong," Emily replied casually as she took the phone.
Brenton's expression turned suspicious.
She ignored him, got out of bed on her own, and slipped on her coat.
"Where are you going?" he asked immediately. "I'll go with you."
"Just for a walk outside."
She met his gaze, still thinking of how to refuse his company, when a doctor knocked and asked Brenton to come to the office to discuss her condition.
He stood up and walked toward the door, still reminding her gently, "Don't stay out too long. Be careful not to catch a cold."
Emily gave no reply. She quietly watched him disappear into the office at the end of the corridor.
Then she turned, left the hospital, hailed a taxi with cash, and headed straight to the airport.
She carried nothing with her. Beneath her coat, she still wore her hospital gown.
The strange looks from people around her did not affect her in the slightest. Only when she heard the boarding announcement for her flight did a faint ripple stir in her heart.
"The flight to Cidnea is now boarding. We wish you a pleasant journey..."
Emily turned to look out the window at the city shrinking smaller and smaller below. A genuine, heartfelt smile curved her lips.
Goodbye, Brenton. May we never meet again.
Aksara