Chapter 2

Three weeks after returning to London, the trailer for Vivian’s documentary, Silence of the Highlands, dropped online.

Just as they expected, that HD footage of me being attacked in the mud, struggling desperately, instantly blew up all over British social media. William’s charity foundation seized the moment to launch a multi-million-pound fundraising campaign: "Protect Women After Dark." In just a few days, donations poured in like an avalanche, and Vivian’s name splashed across every major media headline. 

As for me? I became the "perfect victim"—pitied by the entire internet, and exploited for clout by them, too.

Tonight was the documentary’s premiere and charity gala. 

Inside a luxury hotel in downtown London, it was all glitz and glamour, the camera flashes blindingly bright. William had forced me into a pure white haute couture gown. Like a fragile porcelain doll, I was dragged by the hand and shoved right into the spotlight.

"Thank you all for your support," William stood at the mic, tears welling in his eyes, his voice slightly choked up. "Three weeks ago, my fiancée, Chloe, went through absolute hell. But she wasn't broken. Her bravery is the reason we are standing here today, to be a voice for all women who have been hurt!"

Thunderous applause erupted from the crowd. Vivian, wearing a sharp black suit, walked onto the stage and wrapped me in a heartbreakingly tender hug. 

"Chloe is my little sister. Watching her suffer breaks my heart," Vivian said to the cameras, letting a single, flawless tear slip down her cheek. "But this is exactly what this documentary is about. We have to rip open the darkness and show it to the world."

Standing between them, my stomach churned. The freezing muddy water from the highlands that night seemed to swallow me whole all over again. I looked down at the socialites in the audience, moved to tears, and found it all incredibly absurd.

"No..." I spoke up suddenly. My voice was weak, but the lapel mic carried it across the entire room.

The hall fell dead silent instantly. William’s hand around my waist tightened viciously, his nails digging right into my flesh.

"Chloe, you're exhausted. Is your PTSD acting up again?" William seamlessly shifted his expression, looking at me with a gaze that was painfully gentle—yet full of warning.

I didn't look at him. Instead, I stared straight into the cameras below and took a deep breath. "That footage... it shouldn't have been released. I never gave my consent. Every time I see it, I'm being traumatized all over again."

This was my final test. My last attempt to rip off their masks in front of the public.

Vivian's face froze for a split second, but she was quick. She snatched the mic and spoke in a tone dripping with tolerance and helpless indulgence:

"Everyone, Chloe is still in the middle of severe psychological trauma. It's totally normal for her to be in denial. Chloe, honey, I know you're hurting, but you can't be this selfish."

Selfish? I looked at her, trembling all over.

Vivian's eyes turned red, her voice raising a pitch. "What's the big deal about helping your sister out just this once? My parents paid for your education, I raised you single-handedly—our family has done more than enough for you! Right now, your pain could save thousands of women. It could help William's foundation build ten new shelters! Do you seriously not have a single ounce of selflessness in you?"

Whispers erupted in the crowd. Those previously sympathetic eyes slowly turned judgmental.

"Right? She survived, why is she acting like such a drama queen?"

"Director Vivian is looking at the bigger picture. She's so ungrateful."

"Mr. William loves her so much, and she actually embarrassed them on stage like that."

Those whispers pierced my ears like knives. Taking advantage of the situation, William half-forced me into his arms and flashed an apologetic smile at the cameras. "I'm so sorry, everyone. Chloe's mental state is still pretty unstable. I'm going to take her out back to rest."

The moment we were dragged into the backstage hallway, all the tenderness vanished from William's face. He violently threw my arm off. My back slammed hard against the wall, a tearing pain shooting through my wounds.

"Are you out of your freaking mind?!" William hissed furiously, his eyes filled with absolute disgust. "Do you have any idea how many investors are out there tonight? Are you trying to ruin Vivian's hard work? Ruin my foundation?!"

I looked at the man I had loved for six years. I looked at his face, completely twisted by the threat to his precious interests, and suddenly, I laughed out loud.

"What the hell are you laughing at?" he frowned.

"At myself." I wiped the cold smirk off my lips, my eyes turning completely icy.

They sacrificed my innocence and my reputation just so my sister could get a hit scoop, just to feed my fiancé's vanity and greed. Back there on stage, Vivian's guilt-tripping completely severed the last sliver of naive illusion I held out for them.

I didn't argue anymore. I just quietly smoothed out the wrinkles on my gown.

"I'm sorry, William," I lowered my head, hiding the murderous intent brewing in my eyes. "I really am just too tired. I won't cause any more trouble."

Thinking I had caved, William let out a satisfied sigh. Slipping right back into his affectionate persona, he reached out and stroked my hair: "Good girl. Once all this blows over, we'll head to Paris for our honeymoon."

Paris?

I stared into his hypocritical eyes and answered silently in French: 

Va au diable. (Go to hell.)