Chapter 5

Lina's POV

The class bell rang, and I walked quickly toward my locker to get the textbook for the next class.

But before I could get close, I saw a crowd of people surrounding my locker.

When those people saw me coming, they scattered like a swarm of flies, revealing the open locker.

On the locker door, written in the same red paint, was one word:

WHORE.

Not only that, all my textbooks and notebooks in the locker were gone, replaced by a pile of soaked waste paper.

Endure.

I took a deep breath, trying hard to suppress the anger in my heart, and turned to walk into the classroom.

It was math class anyway, so it didn't matter if I didn't listen.

After entering the classroom, I found that Blair hadn't come to class. Her seat had everything you could imagine on it, but no person.

She probably skipped class to go have fun. I didn't pay it any mind.

When the dismissal bell rang, I packed up my things and walked out of the classroom.

The hallway was very quiet. Most people had already left, and the remaining people were walking toward the school gate in twos and threes.

A strange and dangerous atmosphere permeated the air—my instinct told me clearly.

Sure enough, when I got downstairs, the stairway entrance was already packed with people.

Blair was still in the lead, but she no longer had just those two followers beside her.

Behind her stood a group of boys and girls, some I'd seen before, some I hadn't, but all their faces wore the same expression—that kind of excitement when prey has been cornered and is about to be caught.

Blair leaned against a pillar by the door, holding a cup of coffee, tilting her head to look at me.

"Lina," she called my name, her tone as sweet as milk tea with excessive sweetener, "I want to have a good talk with you."

I didn't speak, nor did I stop walking.

Two male students behind Blair stepped forward and blocked my way.

One was six feet, the other six feet four inches, both on the football team, with shoulders as wide as two doors.

"I said, let's talk." Blair's voice turned cold.

I stopped.

Not because of those two guys.

But because I saw a figure standing at the school gate not far behind her.

That person was wearing a dark long coat, holding a black long-handled umbrella, and was leaning against a car door smoking.

The smoke dispersed in the twilight light, blurring his expression.

It was Luca.

Was he here to pick me up?

No, that's not right—except for the first day of school when he came to drop me off, he had hardly come again.

As if sensing my gaze, my peripheral vision caught Luca's posture changing slightly, from leaning against the car door to standing straight.

Luca didn't walk over, but I knew his gaze was passing through these twenty-plus people and landing on me.

He was watching to see what I was going to do.

"Let's talk somewhere else, dear," Blair walked up to me and tapped my chest with her coffee cup, "There are too many people here, it's not convenient."

She gave a look to those behind her.

The two football players flanked me on the left and right, while others crowded around us, leading me toward the back of the academic building.

I didn't resist.

They pushed me to a dead end behind the academic building.

There were walls on three sides, with only a narrow passage connecting to the main road.

There were no cameras around, no windows—this was the most secluded corner of the school.

The setting sun couldn't reach here. The air was cold and damp, moss grew in the corners, and the ground was covered with unidentifiable stains and all kinds of trash.

Blair stood in front of me, with her twenty-plus "audience members" behind her.

Some were holding up phones to record, some were smoking and watching the show, some were leaning against the wall with arms crossed, looking like "I'm just here to watch."

"You know you really piss me off?" Blair casually tossed her coffee cup to someone behind her. She flexed her wrist. "You've been looking at me with that kind of expression these past few days. That 'you don't exist' look. I'm really sick of it."

Blair stepped closer.

"Do you think that just because you have Luca Moretti behind you, you can do whatever you want? Do you know my dad has business dealings with the Moretti family? Do you know that if I say one word to my dad, 'I don't like this girl,' what Luca Moretti will do to you?"

As she spoke, she laughed.

"Who do you think you are? A whore he's slept with, or a pet he picked up on a whim?"

I wasn't listening, because I saw Luca.

He was standing at the entrance of the passage at some point.

More than twenty people stood between him and me, but not one person noticed him.

He just stood there, in a dark coat, black long-handled umbrella, with half a cigarette between his fingers.

The setting sun shone from behind him, hiding his face in shadow, with only those dark brown eyes glowing.

Luca didn't move.

He was watching again.

I withdrew my gaze and looked back at Blair.

"You still haven't answered me." Blair tilted her head, "Are you or aren't you his—"

"No." I said.

"No what?"

"Not his pet."

Blair laughed, her laughter sharp and piercing, "So if you're not a pet, does that mean you're a whore?"

The people around also laughed along.

"What I am doesn't matter." I interrupted her, not interested in playing word games with her.

My voice wasn't loud, but as soon as I opened my mouth, the entire dead end quieted down, so quiet that everyone could hear every word I said.

"What matters is, can you bear the consequences of touching me?"

Blair narrowed her eyes, "Are you threatening me?"

"I'm just reminding you." I said, "You still have a chance to make everyone leave."

Blair looked at me, her expression changing from mockery to confusion, then to anger.

"Who the hell do you think you are, ordering me around?" Blair raised her hand.

That hand again, that gesture again.

I suddenly felt very bored.

Not physically tired, but that kind of fatigue spreading outward from the bones, impossible to suppress.

I had already endured for a week.

I endured being splashed with water, being insulted, being locked in the bathroom, having my food knocked away.

I endured the paint on my desk, the insults in my locker, the mockery in the cafeteria.

I had used up all the restraint I had trained over fifteen years.

But at this moment, in this cold dead end, being watched by more than twenty pairs of eyes, facing Blair's raised hand, I suddenly felt I couldn't endure it anymore.

Blair's hand came down.

I tilted my head slightly, letting her palm brush past my ear and hit the air.

Then I reached out my right hand to grip the back of Blair's neck, using her own forward momentum to smash her face toward the brick wall beside us.

A muffled thud.

Blair's nose bridge hit the rough red brick, making a crisp cracking sound—that was the sound of the nasal bone breaking.

She didn't even have time to scream before blood spurted out, splashing on the gray wall surface like a painting suddenly thrown on.

Time seemed to hit the pause button.

Everyone froze.