To smooth things over, the Men's Virtue Program threw me under the bus. They claimed I'd been the one causing trouble—secretly seducing wealthy women.
Their husbands took out their rage on me. They jabbed me with needles, burned me with lighters, stomped on me with their leather shoes until I couldn't breathe...
I was traumatized. Broken.
I was terrified. Truly, deeply terrified.
Now only one thought remained in my head:
Celine belongs to Brent. I'll never dare try to take her again.
At that moment, Celine looked at me with disgust. "Timothy, what happened to you? You're no different from some gutter trash throwing a tantrum in the streets. Clearly, six months wasn't long enough."
I was paralyzed with fear.
Terror had numbed my brain, clouded my thoughts until nothing made sense anymore.
Only one thought echoed: It's over. It's over. Another client is unhappy with me.
"Sophie. Don't hurt my Sophie."
Without thinking, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the "candy." I didn't count how many—I just shoved them into my mouth while no one was watching.
The "candy" was from Instructor Knox.
She'd told me that taking it would make me more "professional." That clients would be more satisfied.
But I had to take it secretly. The clients needed to believe they were the ones who'd reduced me to this state. It gave them a sense of accomplishment.
The candy kicked in fast. I lost all shame, pressing myself against Celine, against every client in the room.
Celine screamed in fury and slapped me hard across the face.
Half my face swelled instantly. Blood trickled from the corner of my mouth.
"Timothy, you're a pathetic, disgusting excuse for a man!" She spat the words through clenched teeth.
Her hands closed around my throat, squeezing until I couldn't breathe.
She hissed in my ear: "Rot here. Don't ever expect me to take you out of this place."
"Where's my daughter? I'm only taking her today."
Celine threw me to the ground.
Still not satisfied, she kicked me hard in the stomach.
I curled into a ball on the floor, bent like a shrimp, gasping through the pain.
"Where is my daughter? Bring her to me. We're leaving. Now." Celine's voice was a snarl aimed at Instructor Knox.
The instructor's face tightened with discomfort. "Your daughter... we don't actually know where she is."
Celine's expression shifted to shock, then rage. "What?"
Instructor Knox sighed. "Since your husband and daughter arrived, we've done everything to accommodate them."
"But they used their status as wealthy elites to act however they pleased. They looked down on us completely. If we so much as raised our voices, they'd strike us."
Celine slammed her palm on the table. "I sent them here precisely to fix that attitude!"
"I told you before—discipline them as needed. Don't hold back!"
A bitter smile crossed the instructor's face. "But your daughter... she's young, yet her temper is fierce."
"She refused to let us follow her. She goes wherever she wants. And she made it clear—if we tried to control her, she'd kill herself."
"All we can confirm is that she's still somewhere on the grounds. She hasn't escaped."
Veins bulged at Celine's temples. "Check the surveillance. Find her. Now."
Half an hour later, someone from the security room rushed in, breathless. "We found her, but..."
Celine shoved past her. "But what? Where is she?"
The staff member held out a USB drive. "See for yourself."
Inside was a video.
Her daughter was in a corner, wrapped in the arms of a man.
