Chapter 3

In my past life, I provoked Octavius once before he was imprisoned, publicly insulting him.

Everyone said Octavius was insane.

That kind of madman was exactly the type I despised most in my previous life.

And now, the current timeline was precisely when I had just declared at the charity gala, "I, Seraphine, even if I'm not truly an heiress, wouldn't waste another word on someone as ruthless as you."

But despite saying such harsh words and publicly humiliating him, it wasn't until my death that I realized Octavius had already forgiven me long ago.

As for when exactly he forgave me, I dare not dwell on it.

I turned my head with a stiff neck, my heart feeling like it was being squeezed.

Octavius was leaning lazily against the doorway, a cigarette between his fingers. The smoke, white with a hint of blue, curled around him, making my vision blur momentarily.

Exactly as I remembered him.

Half his face was hidden in smoke, his profile sharp as if carved by a knife. The cold light hitting his features gave him an indescribable, dangerous aura.

Hearing movement, he tilted his head slightly to look at me, his thin lips curving up. "Unfortunately, bathroom walls aren't soundproof. I heard everything."

I snapped back to reality, my nails digging into my palms, forcing myself to stay calm.

I had no idea what this version of Octavius wanted, how much he actually liked me at this point, and I deeply regretted not being reborn before I'd provoked him.

But given the circumstances, I could only steel myself and try to appease him. I couldn't run, didn't dare to run.

Because I knew, in this life and my previous one, he was someone I couldn't afford to cross.

Suppressing the tremor in my heart, I forced a smile. "Mr. Capulet."

Octavius stared directly at my face. It was indeed a pleasing face—when I smiled, my eyes sparkled like scattered stars, dazzlingly bright.

His eyebrow twitched as he took a deep drag of his cigarette, his voice languid, "Ms. Whitaker seems in good spirits? Even smiling while talking to a ruthless madman like me."

I could hear the sarcasm in his voice and internally released a long breath.

Clearly, he was still angry.

I walked a few steps toward him, already enveloped by the cedar fragrance emanating from him.

"Something on your mind, Ms. Whitaker?" He asked, his voice low.

Instead of retreating, I stepped closer, then bent forward in a bow. "Mr. Capulet, I was young and foolish before. I apologize for the things I said."

If I didn't appease him now, what if my carefully planned engagement party went awry?

I couldn't take that risk.

I stood with my head lowered, adopting a contrite posture.

Unexpectedly, he suddenly extinguished his cigarette in the sink and lifted my chin with smoke-scented fingertips. "Apologize? Ms. Whitaker, when you spoke those words without leaving me any dignity, did you ever think this day would come?"

Honestly, I couldn't read Octavius at all.

"What do you want?" I asked through gritted teeth, lowering my gaze.

In the next second, he suddenly moved closer, bringing with him an innate aura of dominance that instantly made it hard for me to breathe.

"How about you be with me instead?" He suggested.

My entire body froze.

He let out a cold laugh, looking straight at me with eyes as deep as a bottomless pool. "Oh right, I forgot. Ms. Whitaker is getting engaged today."

Despite his words, his hand didn't stop.

His fingertips slid from my chin to my earlobe, brushing aside a strand of hair. The gesture was flirtatious, like he was toying with a newly acquired plaything.

I didn't pull away.

His suggestive words didn't make me dizzy; they made me more clearheaded.

His statement made it difficult to gauge Octavius's true feelings. His affection for me at this point couldn't be that deep—he was probably just interested in me because I had insulted him, or perhaps he wanted revenge.

"Mr. Capulet is joking," I said, staring into his eyes, allowing his fingers to linger by my ear. "I was the one who was ignorant and said things that offended you."

He suddenly paused, his gaze sweeping across my face. In those unfathomable eyes, a fleeting, indecipherable emotion flickered.

He slowly withdrew his hand.

I was momentarily stunned, not understanding his intention.

"Fine." He slipped his fingers into his pants pocket and turned to leave, his stride wild and fierce. "Seems like you have things to do. I won't keep you."

"Mr. Capulet!" I called out impulsively.

I knew he had heard the content of my phone call.

I stopped him but couldn't utter another word.

Octavius didn't turn around.

After a slight pause in his steps, he finally turned his head, raising an eyebrow. "I enjoy drama, so I won't expose you. But here's some advice."

He smirked, "Next time you're up to no good, don't use your own phone."

After he left, instead of buying makeup, I went to find the sound technician.

Originally, I had carefully prepared a PowerPoint showcasing my loving moments with Mitchell, but now, it seemed there was something more interesting to display.

I found a seat in a corner on the second floor and sent Mitchell a text: [Mitchell, I'm in the lounge. Come see me.]

Glancing at my phone, I saw it was almost time.

Casually twirling the remote in my hand, I pressed the button with my fingertip. It made a sound.

The projector started up, and simultaneously, all the overhead lights in the grand hall went out, leaving only the screen dimly illuminated.

The crowd instantly fell silent, many looking up, fixated on the white screen ahead.

"Why is it starting now? The host hasn't even come on stage yet."

The hall manager felt a pang of anxiety and immediately went to find the sound crew.

The sound technician stood frozen, his face pale. He had set the program himself—who had tampered with the system before the scheduled time?

The screen suddenly displayed an image.

The quality wasn't great, somewhat blurry, but the content was unmistakable.

The footage showed a hotel lounge setup, with a large bed at the center. Three men surrounded a young woman.

Her wedding dress had been torn apart, the straps fallen, her chest and neck covered in red marks, tears streaming down her face.

The scene was intensely graphic, making viewers blush and turn away. The explicit images were clearly visible on the screen.

The three men were physically unappealing—one short, one fat, all with unattractive faces.

More shockingly, all three were simultaneously violating the young woman, their lewd laughter echoing throughout the hall.

"What's going on? What are they showing?"

"This is the Whitaker family's engagement party—what's the meaning of this video?"

"But the person in the video looks familiar, doesn't she?"

"That woman is Seraphine!"