Chapter 38
Walking through the winding corridors, Charlotte’s nerves were on high alert, constantly glancing behind her.
The hotel was eerily quiet. She hadn’t encountered a single staff member.
A silence that… bred anxiety.
After walking a while without anyone following her, she began to relax slightly.
Perhaps she was overthinking. If Amanda wanted to use underhanded tactics, she would have done so earlier. It made no sense to do it now when Charlotte was voluntarily leaving her son.
Amanda was surely upset about the settlement money, but Charlotte knew this amount was practically pocket change to the Wood family.
Amanda couldn’t possibly be that foolish.
Just ahead lay the lobby where she’d entered.
Charlotte checked her phone for the time.
7:40 PM.
She could contact Liam now. She began typing a message: “I’m here, at…”
Before she could finish, a woman in a black hotel uniform suddenly appeared from around the corner, bumping into her. The woman quickly apologized, “I’m so sorry, excuse me.”
She reached out to steady Charlotte.
“It’s fine, I’m okay, you don’t need to—”
Before Charlotte could finish, a cold sting shot through her neck. Her heart dropped as she tried to push away, but her vision was already blurring.
The female server’s lips curled into a sinister smile.
She held Charlotte tighter with false concern. “Are you alright, miss? Which suite are you staying in? Over there? Let me help you back.”
After this self–answered charade, she forcibly “assisted” Charlotte down an even more secluded corridor.
“Help…”
Panic surged through Charlotte like an electrical current. This couldn’t be happening. Not like this. Her mind screamed for help while her body betrayed her.
Strength drained rapidly from her body. She couldn’t even cry out. Everything around her grew distant and hazy,
11—da. Cooaning the Forbidden Past.
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Chapter 38
her consciousness falling into a deep void.
Someone help her… please…
She thought of her phone, which she’d slipped into her pocket after being bumped. It still had the unfinished message. With every ounce of remaining strength, she slid her hand into her pocket.
Her fingers moved slowly and carefully, typing purely by feel, and hit send.
Elsewhere in the hotel.
Zarek had just finished meeting with a client and was resting in a courtyard.
After a few drinks, he was slightly tipsy.
The night breeze played with his hair, lifting it before letting it fall back against his brow. He found himself wondering if Charlotte would actually show up–part curiosity, part something he wasn’t ready to acknowledge.
“Ding ding-”
A message alert broke the tranquil silence.
Liam, standing nearby, checked his phone. He’d been expecting a message from Charlotte and smiled when he saw it was from her. But as he read it, his brow furrowed.
“Sir.”
“What is it?”
Zarek’s voice was calm as he opened his eyes.
Liam bent forward, showing him the phone. “I arranged to meet Ms. Whitmore at eight o’clock. She just messaged saying she’s arrived, but… the last part is strange. Can you make sense of it?”
Zarek:
”
“1
He gave Liam a disapproving look for his unauthorized initiative, then read the message: “I’m here, at xoxo.”
ΧΟΧΟ?
His brow creased slightly as he considered this. Suddenly, a cold light flashed in his eyes as realization struck.
He initiated a video call without hesitation.
Liam was puzzled: “Sir, what are you-”
Zarek raised a hand, silencing him, his face tense with concern.
Liam didn’t understand, but the video connected.
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The screen showed blurry, dim orange–gray images. Listening carefully, they could hear footsteps, the sound of shoes being dragged across the floor, and broken, rapid breathing.
“Help… help…”
The desperate voice quickly turned to muffled sounds.
Something was terribly wrong!
Zarek ended the call, his expression grave. “Ask the hotel if Charlotte Whitmore has been here.”
Liam quickly made the call and reported back: “The front desk says a beautiful lady arrived around seven, said she had an appointment, and left a suit. Based on the description, it must be Ms. Whitmore. They don’t know where she
went after that…”
Zarek stood up immediately, all traces of the earlier relaxation gone.
He took out his own phone, dialed a number, and began walking rapidly in a specific direction, his movements purposeful and urgent.
In a hotel room.
The lights were dim.
Charlotte was thrown onto a large bed, her mind clouded by whatever drug they’d injected but still horribly aware of what was happening.
Around her stood several men wearing only towels, their gazes undressing her, expressions twisted with sick anticipation. At the foot of the bed lay various terrifying “toys,” including syringes filled with drugs.
“No… please… don’t…” she begged, her voice barely audible.
Extreme fear made her tremble uncontrollably. She tried to prop herself up on one arm but fell back heavily. Seeing them close in, she could only desperately kick her weakened legs to retreat.
“Look at this hot piece of ass,” one man leered.
“That face, that body–prime fuck material right here,” another added, running his tongue over his lips.
“Her old man must be one cold motherfucker, paying us to wreck her like this. Damn, I’d keep a sweet bitch like this all to myself.”
The woman disguised as hotel staff rummaged through Charlotte’s bag, pulled out a contract, and approached the bed with an ink pad. She grabbed Charlotte’s hand to press her fingerprint while saying, “Because her husband doesn’t want to pay for the divorce. He said not only should you guys destroy her, but you should film the whole process.”
Charlotte’s mind exploded with horror.
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Was… was Issac behind this?
No, impossible!
She couldn’t believe it. Not even he would sink this low. Would he?
Desperately, she fumbled for her phone, dropping it several times before struggling to pick it up again. She called
him.
She needed to ask, to hear it from him directly…
When she pulled out her phone, someone moved to take it, but the woman with the contract stopped them. “Let her
call.”
The first call, Issac hung up.
The second call, he hung up again.
On the third attempt, the call connected, but it wasn’t Issac who spoke–it was Evelyn. “Issac doesn’t want to talk to your pathetic ass.”
She continued with a gleeful tone, “By the way, how do you like the studs we arranged for you? Just between us girls, they’re not only into the really fucked–up shit, but one of them has a nice little HIV surprise for you.”
“We’ll give you a shot of something special soon to make you beg for more.”
“By tomorrow, videos of you taking on eight men will be all over the internet. Your mommy, your daddy, all your precious friends–everyone will see what a dirty whore you really are.”
“Oh, and to celebrate, Issac and I are announcing our engagement tomorrow night. You won’t get a penny of his money, and you’ll be nothing but garbage everyone spits on. Even if you go to the police, it won’t help. In this city, our two families can squash you like the insect you are. You can’t win.”
“How does it feel? I stole your man, I stole your job, and now I’m destroying your life. But what can you do? I’ll still live happily ever after with Issac, fucking his brains out every night until we’re old and gray.”
“As for you? There’s nothing you can do but slowly die like the worthless trash you are. Hahaha…”
Evelyn laughed triumphantly and gleefully on the other end.
The phone slipped from Charlotte’s ear as despair washed over her.
A tidal wave of grief and hatred cut through her chest like an ice blade, shredding her insides. How could they do this to her? What kind of monsters were they?
But she felt no pain, nor did she want to cry. She only wanted to get up and, even if she died and became a ghost, she would kill them all–Issac, Evelyn, Amanda. All of them would pay.
“Let’s begin, boys. Have fun with this bitch. Don’t hold back,” said the woman at the foot of the bed as she turned on the camera.
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Chapter 38
All eight men closed in, their eyes hungry, their intentions clear.
“Get… away…” Charlotte gasped, her voice fading.
She grabbed a pillow in desperation, but lacked even the strength to throw it. The drug was making it nearly impossible to move.
Her hands were bound to the headboard, her legs pinned down. Countless hands reached for her, tearing at her clothes as she tried uselessly to writhe away.
A hideous, obese man climbed onto the bed, holding a syringe with an excited, ferocious expression.
As he raised the needle toward her thigh, she closed her eyes and bit down on her tongue with all her strength…
At the door.
The sound of a key in the lock.
