Chapter 1

On the day of the wedding, the big screen suddenly displayed images of my sister being kidnapped.

Two fierce dogs with glowing red eyes were tearing at my sister's legs, leaving them a bloody mess. She was crying and screaming at the camera.

"Big sis, I know I was wrong. I'll never try to steal Fletcher and our brothers' affection from you again. Please let me go, I'm begging you, big sis!"

My husband Fletcher and my three brothers were furious. That very day, they threw me into the darkest underground fight club in River City.

For the next six months, I spent my days fighting vicious beasts for scraps of food in giant iron cages. At night, I was forced to entertain animal trainers from various countries.

In that fight club, even the lowest-ranking janitor could barge into my room at will, leering as they subjected me to the utmost humiliation.

Today, six months later, a foul-smelling old fellow leered at me with a twisted expression as he pulled up his pants.

"I heard Mr. Sterling is coming to pick you up today. What a shame, no more fun to be had."

But I just numbly lowered my head and got dressed.

I need to hurry, or those beasts will steal all of today's food.

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1

It was late at night when I exited the Fight Club, countless reporters waiting outside.

The moment I appeared, they pointed their cameras at me like an arsenal of weapons, shoving microphones practically into my mouth.

"Miss Stratton, we heard you've been locked up in the Fight Club for six months. What exactly did you experience?"

"You kidnapped your sister Violet and set vicious dogs on her. Do you now realize your mistake? Your husband and three brothers helped you avoid prison, only sending you to Fight Club as an animal trainer. They had your best interests at heart - do you have anything to say to them?"

These questions were sharp and piercing, seemingly interviews but each sentence clearly favoring my three brothers and husband Fletcher.

But I had no time to ponder this now. The camera flashes in the darkness were blinding, identical to the harsh spotlights inside Fight Club.

Amidst the constant flashing, I suddenly dropped to the ground, assuming a defensive posture on all fours. I bared my teeth at the crowd before me, continuously emitting low growls like a wild animal.The journalists were startled by my sudden movement, with those holding microphones hastily stepping back, fearing I might do something irrational.

The underground fight club catered specifically to big shots in certain circles with a twisted sense of entertainment.

To ensure these bigwigs could clearly see the beasts tearing at each other for food, the spotlights above the iron cage were the best available on the market.

Over time, as soon as the lights came on, instinctively assuming a defensive posture and fighting for food had become second nature to me.

The journalists exchanged bewildered glances, soon beginning to whisper among themselves.

"What's going on? Does she seem mentally unstable? Why does that pose look so much like a dog's?"

"It's probably another one of Vivienne's tactics. She's always been like this, fond of these little tricks to compete with her sister for attention. Otherwise, she wouldn't have gone as far as kidnapping her own sister."

Fletcher, who had been standing behind the journalists all this time, stepped forward and yanked me up from my crouched position on the ground.

"Vivienne! What are you playing at here? Haven't you embarrassed yourself enough? Get moving now!"

Feeling the man's touch, my body began to tremble involuntarily. I collapsed to my knees with a thud, continuously begging for mercy."I'll strip, I'll strip, I'll strip right now, please don't hit me, I beg you, please don't hit me."

I stammered as I shakily began to unbutton my clothes, continuously muttering pleas for mercy.

The first time a man entered my room, I grabbed the water glass beside me and hurled it at him.

But that night, I ended up tied to a hard wooden bed, unable to move.

I can't remember how many men came into my room that night, I only remember men coming in and out, the wooden bed creaking incessantly until daylight broke through the window.

Every time after that, if I showed even the slightest sign of resistance, this was the result that awaited me.

Over time, I lost the courage to resist.

Fletcher, enraged by my reaction, grabbed my hand as I was about to unbutton my clothes, and spoke through gritted teeth, his face ashen.

"Vivienne! I'm asking you, what are you playing at?"

After saying this, he didn't wait for my answer, but roughly shoved me into a car parked by the roadside.

Even after returning home and lying in bed, I still hadn't come to my senses.

Beneath me was a soft bed, over me was a snow-white comforter, and above was a giant crystal chandelier on the ceiling.This was all different from that dimly lit little room in Fight Club.