After My Boyfriend Joined a Scandalous Party

My boyfriend and his godsister were caught by the vice squad at a scandalous party.

When I went to the police station to bail him out, he was disheveled, his exposed skin marked with dried candle wax and whiplash scars. His godsister, Sonia, clung to him, sobbing into his arms.

“The light in Sonia’s house was broken. It was too dark, so I went to accompany her,” he said.

I couldn’t help but wonder, Did he accompany her all the way to the police station too?

In the past, I would’ve demanded an explanation, but I was too tired now—too drained to argue. Without a word, I signed the papers.

The vice squad officer looked at me and asked, “Are you Anthony Leeman’s family?”

I shook my head. “No, I’m not familiar with him. Just a colleague.”

Lowering my gaze, I typed out a message to my father: [I agree to get married. Give me three days, and I’ll marry him.]

After leaving the police station, my boyfriend’s godsister, Sonia Scott, tearfully climbed into the front passenger seat as if she belonged there.

Not wanting to talk, I started the car.

Suddenly, she screamed and looked terrified. “Tony, I’m scared. You know I can’t sit in a car driven by someone else.” Sonia bit her lip, her eyes shimmering as though she was on the verge of tears.

I pulled her hand away. “You can get out of the car.”

Before I could finish, Sonia burst into sobs. “I’ll get out, then. I’m sorry, Celine. It’s my fault that Tony came with me to the police station.”

I didn’t reply, but my boyfriend, Anthony Leeman, glared at me.

“Celine, why are you so heartless? You know what happened to Sonia’s father. It’s not personal—she’s just scared. Can’t you be a little more understanding?”

‘Be understanding?’ I thought, glancing at Anthony’s torn clothes and exposed wounds. Did he expect me to sympathize with the fact they attended a scandalous party together?

Anthony caught the look in my eyes, and his expression darkened. He flung the car door open.

It was freezing outside. Dressed in only a single layer, I shivered involuntarily.

“Celine, I didn’t think you could be this cold-blooded. Get out. I’ll take Sonia home myself!” Without giving me a chance to respond, Anthony dragged me out of the car.

The street was bustling with traffic. I stumbled, narrowly avoiding an oncoming car.

Anthony didn’t even look back. He climbed into the driver’s seat and turned to Sonia with a tenderness I hadn’t seen in years. “It’s okay, Sonia. Let the evil woman find her own way home.”

With that, he sped off, leaving me standing in the cold.

As the car pulled away, I saw Sonia press herself against Anthony, her body language smug and victorious.

My phone buzzed with a message. I opened it to find a photo from my father.

My father: [Celine, look. This is Hugo Young.]

Hugo was the man I was supposed to marry—the dashing heir of the Young family.

My father: [Celine, I’m getting old. Our family needs a new leader to move us forward. I’m glad you agreed to the marriage.]

‘Really, Dad?’ I thought bitterly. ‘You know I left because I didn’t want to be a pawn for the family.’

Seven years. I had given up my role as an heiress, abandoned my family’s glory, and started from scratch with Anthony.

Though he said it wasn’t the right timing, I endured multiple abortions because I believed our love could overcome anything as long as I loved him and he loved me.

But I couldn’t do it anymore. I was done suffering. I would marry Hugo Young, become a rich wife, and leave this misery behind.

When I finally made it home, Anthony still wasn’t back—probably busy comforting Sonia in bed.

Numbly, I began packing. Moments later, Anthony walked in. “What are you doing?”

Without looking at him, I tossed all the clothes from the wardrobe into a trash bag. “Getting rid of things I don’t like.”

He didn’t seem to grasp my meaning. “You should’ve gotten rid of those ages ago. I’ll buy you new ones when we get married.”

His words hung in the air, a promise I would’ve cherished in the past. Now, they felt like a cruel joke.

Sensing my indifference, Anthony hesitated, then headed for the bathroom. “Fine. I’m taking a shower.”

The sound of running water filled the apartment as Anthony’s phone buzzed on the table. Irritated, I picked it up to turn it off, only to see a message from Sonia.

It was a photo of the two of them at the party, entangled on a bed. Beneath them was my cherished wedding dress—the one I had long dreamed of wearing.

I had once told Anthony how much I loved that dress. His reply? “You can like whatever you want. They all look the same to me.”

Now, that dress was nothing more than a prop in Sonia’s twisted game with him.

“Who told you to look?”

Anthony’s voice startled me. He stood behind me, his expression furious.

Before I could respond, he snatched the phone and shoved me to the ground. The sharp edge of the buttons scattered across the floor bit into my palm, leaving it bleeding profusely.

I stared at the blood, feeling numb.

The messages between him and Sonia flashed in my mind—countless exchanges, day and night, more than he had ever said to me in seven years.

“I’m sorry. I won’t look again,” I said quietly.