Chapter 7 The Face of the Past

Aviah's POV

Scarlett couldn't help but anxiously scan the area, her eyes darting around as if checking whether anyone was paying attention to our conversation.

My suspicions grew stronger by the second.

"Scarlett, it seems these years haven't been as blissful for you as I imagined," I sneered, as if discovering something amusing. "But that makes sense. After all, the one you truly loved was Kevin, not August. No matter how well August treats you, Kevin will always be the one lingering in your heart."

This realization sent thrills through my body. What could be more satisfying than learning your enemy isn't as happy as you thought?

I studied her face, flashing a smile. "I'm really looking forward to seeing your wedding with August. It should be quite interesting."

It was nearly a week since I returned to Lakeview. The money I had had already gone into renting a small apartment and keeping the battered second-hand car alive—new tires, a long-overdue service. From the original three thousand dollars, by then I was down to barely three hundred.

I hadn't been idle in those days. August hadn't contacted me, and I didn't have the energy to seek him out.

I needed to find a job quickly to support myself and my family.

That week, I had submitted fifty resumes and interviewed with more than thirty companies. Either I was rejected outright or told to wait for news that never came.

Unable to find proper employment, I had no choice but to apply for a waitress position at "Phantom Night."

I suspected August might be behind my employment troubles, but I had no proof. Even if I did, what could I do about it?

Tonight, while delivering drinks to a private room, I encountered a familiar face.

I looked at him, and he clearly recognized me too.

"Well, if it isn't Aviah, former princess of Lakeview's wealthiest family? How the mighty have fallen—working as a waitress at Phantom Night, of all places."

I stared at Jeremy Crawford, feeling ice forming in my chest.

He used to be an employee at my father's company, fired for embezzlement and sexually harassing several young women.

When the truth was exposed, my father dismissed him and declared that he would never work in Lakeview again.

Of course, after my father died, Jeremy returned. Now, it seemed, he wanted revenge.

Cold dread crept through me. How could my luck be so bad?

The others in the private room, hearing his words, suddenly remembered the scandal from six years ago and began to chime in.

"I remember her! Isn't she Alexander's daughter? The former richest man in Lakeview?"

"Oh yeah, that's her! I remember she was caught sleeping with some man the night before her wedding. The scandal was everywhere, and everyone saw the evidence at the wedding ceremony."

I hurriedly placed the drinks on the table. "Here are your drinks. Please enjoy."

As I was about to leave, the drinks I had just set down somehow crashed to the floor, shattering everywhere.

Jeremy immediately stood up. "What the hell? That bottle of whiskey cost twelve thousand dollars, and you've broken it. You'll have to pay for it."

I looked at him, then at the man standing next to me. I knew Jeremy had instructed him to knock over the drinks. This was a setup.

I stared coldly at Jeremy. "What do you want?"

Jeremy rose to his feet, his gaze sweeping over me with clear malice.

"Simple. You replace the bottle."

There were no security cameras in the private room. They outnumbered me, and if they all claimed I had dropped the bottle, I had no way to prove otherwise.

Seeing my silence, Jeremy stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Judging by your situation, you probably can't afford to pay. I'll have to report this to your manager!"

With that, he walked toward the door. Since he was going to find my manager, I naturally had to follow him out of the private room.

Once outside, Jeremy's face broke into a calculating smile.

"Aviah, make it easy; pay up, or you're with me tonight. You're already a slut anyway—sleeping with another man the night before your wedding six years ago. Someone like you probably has no shame left. One night with me for twelve thousand dollars—you're getting a good deal. Prostitutes don't charge that much."

I looked at him, feeling nothing but disgust and revulsion.

Alexander had made the right choice back then, though he'd been too lenient. He should have sent Jeremy to prison!

"In your dreams!" I spat in his face.

To my horror, Jeremy actually extended his tongue to lick it off, sending chills down my spine.

"Sweet," he murmured.

Faced with that shameless bastard, I had no strategy except to flee.

This man was terrifying.

When Jeremy saw me trying to escape, he lunged forward.

"You bitch! So ungrateful! You break my expensive whiskey, and I generously offer to let you pay with your body, and this is how you respond?"

He grabbed me, trying to drag me toward a room.

I fought back with all my strength, screaming loudly, but it made little difference.

He pushed open a door and shoved me inside. Before I could make sense of my surroundings, a man rushed forward and kicked Jeremy squarely in the chest, sending him flying backward.

The man growled, "I'll count to three. Get the hell out of here."

Jeremy didn't hesitate—he turned and ran.

I quickly expressed my gratitude. "Thank you."

But I suddenly stopped mid-sentence because I noticed another man sitting on the couch behind my rescuer. He was shirtless, with bloodstains on his right arm and some powder, seemingly in the middle of changing a bandage.

But that wasn't what caught my attention. What struck me was the long, prominent scar across his chest.

The scar! It was him!

I froze, my heart nearly bursting from my chest.

Yes, it was him—the man who had raped me six years ago.

Everything—all the pain and suffering in my life—had started with him.

The accumulated anguish of the past and the humiliation of the present overwhelmed me. I rushed toward the man.

"I'm going to kill you!" I screamed.