My gaze suddenly froze. I locked onto the man wearing a fox mask, seated right in the center of the audience. I have loved him for ten years. Even without seeing his face, I wouldn't mistake him.
He really came to rescue me and I was so happy. I suddenly reached out my hand, wanted to call him and told him I was here.
The chains clinked together, making a pleasant sound. My joy lasted less than half a moment before I saw the man in the fox mask gently take the hand of the girl beside him, wearing a rabbit mask.
I was so sad. I knew this was jealousy. As soon as this feeling rose, the biting cold fear suddenly penetrated into my mind. I instinctively knelt on the ground, my mouth wide open.
My throat, unable to make a sound, repeated over and over, “I won't dare to feel jealous anymore. I was wrong. I won't dare to feel jealous anymore.”
Just as tears were about to fall, I was grabbed by a strange man. “Want another beating? Your makeup's already done. If you cry and smudge it, no one will want you. Your turn's coming up soon. Don't screw this up.”
I bit my lip hard. My gaze drifted back to Peter in the audience. I knew I couldn't cry. If my makeup smudged, I wouldn't be pretty anymore and Peter wouldn't like me. I forced myself to endure the injustice welling up inside, but the pain only grew stronger.
In the audience, Peter was wearing a fox mask. He carefully studied the hands of the girl beside him. My heart felt heavy, yet my mind was filled only with memories of how he once loved me.
When we first met, I was the worst-performing bartender in the bar, while he was undoubtedly the most prestigious VIP patron in the establishment.
I would never have been assigned to serve in his private room. Yet, after a chance encounter in the elevator, he pointed at me and demanded of me.
After that day, he brought me directly to his home, claiming me night after night. He even defied his family's objections, insisting on marrying me.
Those days felt like a dream. Others laughed at him and questioned him, but he didn't care. He spent a lot of money to hold a royal wedding.
After getting married, his love for me only deepened. Every day and night, he couldn't bear to leave my side. How could he have stopped loving me?
My gaze fell on the woman beside him, wearing a rabbit mask. Ever since she appeared, Peter seemed to have forgotten me. Her presence completely stole his heart.
I asked someone else about her. Her name was Avilla Ledoyen. She was Peter's childhood sweetheart and the pretty woman he once loved but could never have.
Back then, I didn't think much of it. Peter and I had been married for five years. He had spoiled me rotten, giving me an overwhelming sense of security.
I refused to believe he could stop loving me. A week ago, Avilla accidentally slipped and fell into the pool.
I saw it happen and rushed to save her, but stumbled and crashed onto the poolside. Before I could react, Peter had already lunged forward.
Just as I exhaled in relief, the rescued Avilla trembled. Her voice choked with tears as she pointed at me.
“It was her! She deliberately pushed me on purpose! She even called me a mistress trying to steal her man!”
“Peter, since your wife is targeting me like this, I dare not bother you anymore. I'll leave. Isn't that enough?”
The moment she tried to stand up, Peter pulled her back into his embrace. I would never forget that moment in my life, the dark and terrifying glint in Peter's eyes.
That night, after calming Avilla, he dragged me to the poolside. Without a word, he silently yanked my hair, forcing my face underwater until I was gasping for air, then pulled me back just as I was about to choke.
