She had to get out-no matter what.


    Her first instinct was to reach out to Forrest, but she hesitated. How could she possibly exin everything? She''d been the one to propose, listened to his confession, and yet somehow ended up in another man''s bed.


    Even if it hadn''t been her choice, the guilt was still overwhelming.


    Miranda was out of the question, too.


    All she could do was turn to her great-aunt overseas.


    Her great-aunt, Jade Suthend, had fled their hometown years ago and settled in Ennd. M had only reconnected with her after she herself escaped to study at Kingsford. But Jade''s career had taken off—she was always busy, and their contact had been sporadic at best.


    Not long ago, when M''s parents had shown up to pressure her into marriage, she''d thought about asking Jade for help. In the end, she''d held back, too afraid that her family would discover Jade''s whereabouts and drag her back into their toxic web. M couldn''t bear to ruin the hard-won freedom her aunt had fought for. She never imagined things would spiral this far out of control.


    Now, with everything unraveled, M was willing to abandon her nearlypleted studies and promising future at Northpoint University just to start over in Ennd with Jade.


    Lysander had lost his mind.


    Given the choice between freedom and her future, she knew exactly where she stood. The only question was-could Jade get to her in time?


    ...


    Trying to suppress a flicker of hope and excitement, M recalled the code she''d memorized after days of furtive observation. She keyed it in and dialed.


    The phone rang and rang, but no one answered. Eventually, it clicked over to voicemail.


    M''s face drained of color, her heart plummeting.


    How could this be?


    The message was in English-not that it mattered, her English was wless. The gist was that Jade was in the middle of designing a major gownmission and would be in seclusion for several months. Leave a message, and she''d get back when she could.


    Of all the times...


    Just then, the bathroom door creaked open. A tall figure loomed in the doorway, casting a shadow over her. His tone was cold, detached.


    "There''s something you might not know."


    He spoke slowly, almost conversationally. "I have a good rtionship with the young prince of the British royal family. There''s a royal ging up soon, and I rmended Ms. Jade Suthend to design the Queen''s gown. You know her, don''t you? Designing for the Queen is no small matter. If she pulls this off, her reputation and brand will skyrocket."


    He knelt down, trailing his slender fingers through her hair, though his voice remained cool. "Why do you look so surprised? Shouldn''t you be thanking me?"


    M red at him, trembling with rage.


    Before she could react, Lysander snatched her phone and dialed again—this time, Forrest''s number. She lunged to grab it back, but the call had already connected.


    A deep, authoritative male voice answered on the other end.


    "Mr. Montgomery?"


    "Good evening, Mr. Whitmore."


    Lysander''s tone turned gentle and polite. "Sorry to call sote. I just noticed Forrest hasn''t been around campustely. I was hoping to meet with him about his project I''m interested in investing if he has the time."


    There was a brief pause, then Mr. Whitmore replied, his hesitation gone. "He''s been a bit tiredtely-resting. I''ll let him know when he wakes up.”


    "Thank you, Mr. Whitmore."


    Lysander ended the call and immediately dialed another number-Miranda''s. Once again, it wasn''t Miranda who picked up.


    M recognized the voice-it was Miranda''s father, whom she''d met on a visit once. A kind, gentle man.


    When Lysander inquired after Miranda, her father sounded weary, half-asleep. "She''s gone abroad for a trip-won''t be back anytime soon. Whatever it is can wait until she returns."


    The line went dead. The bathroom was silent once more.


    M, dressed in a white nightgown, copsed to the floor, her eyes vacant. After a long moment, she began tough, tears streaming down her cheeks, unstoppable.


    Everyst hope had been snuffed out by the man standing in front of her.


    So merciless.


    How could anyone be so cruel?


    Herposure shattered. In a sudden frenzy, she grabbed anything she could


    find and hurled it at him with all her strength.


    "I hate you-I hate you! I wish you were dead!"


    A ss perfume bottle struck his temple, blood trickling down his face. But it was


    nothingpared to the redness in his eyes as he gazed at her-this girl screaming for his death. For a moment, even he felt dizzy.


    Had he really been wrong all along?