Chapter 3

The drug hit me fast.

My legs gave out, and I pitched forward.

I grabbed fistfuls of Dorian’s suit jacket.

"Dorian..."

I fought to hold onto my last shred of consciousness, trembling as I begged him.

"Mia is trying to ruin me... "

Dorian looked down at me, there wasn't a single trace of brotherly pity.

He peeled my fingers off him one by one and shoved me away.

Then, he turned, pulled Mia into his arms, and leaned down to kiss her.

I completely lost my balance.

I collapsed onto the rug.

The door suddenly swung open.

Arthur swaggered in wearing a leather motorcycle jacket.

He glanced down at me lying on the floor and arched an eyebrow, looking completely unfazed.

"Done?"

The next second, his eyes locked onto Mia’s slightly swollen lips.

Arthur’s face instantly darkened.

He lunged forward and threw a vicious punch straight into Dorian’s jaw.

"Who the fuck gave you permission to touch her?"

Instead of acting scared, Mia just covered her mouth and let out a sweet giggle.

She acted like a queen on a pedestal, eating up the fact that two men were fighting over her.

"Alright, stop it."

Her voice was sickeningly flirtatious. "Whoever breaks Olivia’s legs tonight gets to be my boyfriend."

Dorian wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth.

He adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, his voice horrifyingly calm.

"I'll handle it."

But inside, my world was tearing itself apart.

The stepbrother I had relied on for six years. The partner I had danced beside every single day.

They were both Mia’s lapdogs.

And they were teaming up to destroy my life!

Arthur leaned lazily against the doorframe, smirking as he asked how they were going to do it.

Dorian pointed at the ruined pointe shoes in the corner.

"Force her into them, and push her down the stairs."

"A lunatic who couldn't handle the pressure of failing her audition, had a mental breakdown, and threw herself down the stairs. It’s the perfect excuse."

As he spoke, Dorian pulled my phone out of his pocket and lit up the screen.

"But we need to move fast."

"She called the cops thirty minutes ago."

Dorian gave Arthur a freezing warning.

"If you get blood all over the main hall, it'll draw the press."

"If they find any holes in our story, Mia stealing her admission spot will be completely exposed."

Hearing that her Juilliard spot was at risk, Mia's hypocritical mask shattered instantly.

She stormed over in a panic, kicking me viciously in the stomach with her sharp stiletto.

"I am getting into Juilliard! Nobody is standing in my way!"

The blinding pain made me curl into a tight ball on the floor.

Arthur looked at Mia with sick adoration.

"As long as you're happy, Mia, I'll do whatever you want."

He turned his head and looked at me like I was already a corpse.

"Let's take her down."

Arthur stepped forward, grabbed my wrists in a death grip, and dragged me down the hallway like a broken ragdoll.

His fingers were freezing, squeezing so hard he was practically crushing my wrist bones.

The intense pain jolted my brain awake a little.

I fought back desperately, digging my nails into the back of Arthur’s hand and leaving deep, bloody scratches.

"Let me go! You're all out of your fucking minds!"

I screamed with every ounce of strength I had left.

Dorian frowned, shooting an annoyed look out the window.

"Take her to the abandoned wine cellar in the basement. Don't let her screeching attract the neighbors."

Arthur dragged me down the narrow, pitch-black stairs.

With a violent swing, he slammed me onto the cellar's freezing concrete floor.

Then, he tilted his head up, glaring defiantly at Dorian at the top of the stairs.

"Mia is going to be mine in the end."

The basement cellar reeked of rotting oak barrels and damp mold.

Mia clicked her way down the stairs in her stilettos, holding those blood-red pointe shoes in her hands.

She threw the shoes right at my face.

"Your costume, custom-made just for you!"

Mia taunted, looking down at me: "Put them on and jump!"

"You only have yourself to blame for standing in Mia’s way."

Dorian looked at me, finally admitting the filthy truth himself.

Arthur crouched down, roughly grabbing my jaw and forcing my head up.

"Relax, Olivia. We're going to make sure your fall looks incredibly artistic."

Mia walked over impatiently and violently grabbed my ankles.

She tried to jam my feet straight into those nail-filled shoes.

I fought back with everything I had, kicking out with my free foot and nailing her right in the knee.

Mia stumbled back two steps, barely catching her balance.

Furious, she pointed at me and screamed.

"You're about to die, so drop that arrogant, high-and-mighty attitude right now!"

Right then, the faint wail of police sirens echoed from outside the manor.

Dorian glanced down at the Patek Philippe on his wrist.

"Time's up."

He gave Arthur a cold, detached order: "Your turn. Quiet her down."

Arthur pulled a syringe from the inner pocket of his jacket.

The needle flashed with a terrifying glint under the cellar's dim, exposed bulb.

It was loaded with a high-dose muscle relaxant.

"Don't be scared, Olivia," Arthur coaxed in a sick whisper.

"Once I inject this, you won't even have the strength to fight back. It won't hurt as much when we break your legs."

He pinned my arm down hard.

The freezing needle mercilessly pierced my skin.

Just as his thumb pressed down on the plunger—

BANG—!

The door of the cellar was kicked violently open from the outside!