Chapter 4

Suddenly, something crashed against the rear of my skull. A fierce, throbbing ache spread before I could even react, followed by a barrage of fists pummeling me relentlessly.

"You disgraceful hussy! How dare you spoil my son's nuptials! Scram! Get out of here this instant!"

That familiar voice belonged to Gemima, Clay's mother.

She'd despised me from the moment I entered her son's life, constantly seeking reasons to criticize me. Now, she'd finally found the perfect opportunity to unleash her fury, showing no compassion.

Jewell attempted to protect me, receiving a direct hit to her face. A fingernail sliced her cheek, leaving a deep, crimson gash.

"You tramp!" Gu's mother screeched, her voice piercing. "Don't pretend to be innocent, sneaking into that elderly man's bed and claiming it was for my son's treatment! What do you take us for? Fools? You think we'll swallow any nonsense you spout?"

"The entire internet is now aware of what a repulsive little tart you are. And you still had the audacity to show up and ruin my son's wedding?! Who do you think you are?!"

There stood Clay, observing with a cold, detached expression as his mother assaulted me. He simply watched, a hint of a smirk playing at his lips.

Heavens, it hurt.

How could someone possess two entirely different personalities?

Or perhaps, all these years, he'd been acting so convincingly that I truly believed he was a man of profound love and devotion.

The tender affection I thought I had was nothing more than a cruel deception.

More individuals began to join in, shoving and pushing. Jewell and I were overwhelmed with no means of defense.

After consenting to the arranged marriage my parents orchestrated, I believed I'd done the right thing—I'd taken time to contact my fiancé and confess my past.

Marriage is a sacred union, a mutual decision.

If he objected to my history, I told him, we'd cancel the wedding.

But he'd assured me he wanted to marry me, that he accepted everything about me and my past.

For a moment, I thought I was fortunate to wed someone so understanding.

Never in my wildest imagination did I anticipate being humiliated like this on my very wedding day.

Despair invaded my thoughts as I genuinely feared they might beat me to death before I even had the chance to see the groom.

When I glimpsed Jewell's face, bloodied and severely bruised, guilt and shame overwhelmed me.

"Gem, this isn't your battle," I told her, pushing her away. "Don't concern yourself with me! Just escape while you can!"

But no matter how forcefully I shoved her, she remained steadfast.

"They're violating the law by striking you, and I'm contacting the authorities!" she shouted.

She barely managed to retrieve her phone before someone snatched it from her grasp.

Just like that, any hope I harbored vanished.

Then, Melissa's voice resonated. "That's enough! It's unfortunate to have bloodshed on such a joyous occasion. Let it go—let's spare this wretch this time."

Her intentions weren't kind. She'd noticed a few guests in the crowd discreetly pulling out their phones. Likely planning to alert the police.

If that occurred, her wedding would be genuinely ruined.

Of course, phrasing it that way made her appear saintly before the crowd. The guests were practically tripping over themselves to praise her for being so lovely and merciful, and oh how she reveled in it!

I attempted to push Jewell out of the mob, but Gemima seized her hair to threaten me.

"Kneel," she demanded, "and beg forgiveness!"

I gazed up at her, my voice raspy from utter humiliation. "If I comply, will you allow us to leave?"

She looked down at me, saying, "Swear you'll stay away from my son and his wife forever, and perhaps I'll consider it."

Before I could utter a word, Clay stepped forward and delivered a forceful kick to my shoulder.

"Don't just sit there, you harlot! Apologize!"

The pain was immediate and acute, as if my shoulder had been shattered. Cold sweat beaded on my forehead, trickling into my eyes and stinging my battered face.

Jewell grasped my hand, her bloodied fingers digging into my wrist. "Don't. Don't do it."

Indeed. I was the victim here. Why on earth should I have to kneel and apologize?

I was covered in blood, my gown torn to ribbons. And this? This was the most degrading, humiliating moment of my existence!

Gemima cursed under her breath, charging toward me like an enraged bull ready to force me to my knees.

Melissa smirked as if she'd already triumphed, her satisfaction barely concealed.

I held my chin high, clenching my teeth as I glared at the two of them.

Suddenly, the elevator chimed, and a deep, captivating voice followed—composed yet authoritative enough to halt the room.

"Stop it!"