Chapter 6 6

At exactly eight o'clock, a massive black Rolls-Royce pulled up to the curb outside Clara's crumbling apartment building. Pedestrians stopped and stared at the vehicle that clearly didn't belong in this neighborhood.

Christal stood on the sidewalk, shivering violently in the crisp autumn air.

She was wearing the dress Ethan had sent. It was a dark, blood-red gown that plunged dangerously low in the front and left her entire back exposed. It wasn't elegant; it was designed to make her look cheap and available.

She swallowed her humiliation and pulled the heavy car door open.

Ethan sat in the back, wearing a perfectly tailored custom tuxedo. He swirled a glass of amber whiskey in his hand. His eyes dragged over her exposed skin, heavy with aggressive, toxic possession.

Christal refused to look at him. She slid into the seat, pressing herself as far into the opposite corner as possible, her knuckles turning white as she gripped her cheap clutch.

Ethan scoffed. He leaned across the leather seat, his hand shooting out to grab her jaw.

He pulled her face toward him, then grabbed her left hand. With brutal force, he shoved a ring onto her ring finger.

Christal winced as the metal scraped her knuckle. She looked down. It wasn't a diamond. It was a cheap, ugly plastic ring that looked like it came from a vending machine.

"What is this?" she asked, her voice shaking.

Ethan leaned in, his breath hot against her ear. "It's your punishment. Tonight, every billionaire in New York will see exactly what you are. A cheap whore wearing garbage."

The car glided smoothly onto a massive private estate in Long Island. It was Gwendolyn Vasquez's birthday banquet, the social event of the season.

The car stopped at the red carpet.

The second the door opened, Ethan's face transformed. The psychotic monster vanished, replaced by the charming, elite lawyer. He reached in, grabbed Christal by the waist, and practically dragged her out of the car.

Camera flashes exploded like lightning. The paparazzi recognized the disgraced actress immediately. They surged forward, screaming her name.

Ethan smiled perfectly for the cameras. At the same time, his fingers dug brutally into the soft flesh of Christal's waist.

Pain shot through her side. She gasped, her face turning pale, and forced her lips into a stiff, dead smile to keep him from bruising her ribs.

They walked into the grand ballroom. It was dripping with gold and crystal.

The moment they stepped inside, the music seemed to quiet. Hundreds of eyes turned to look at them. The gazes were filled with mockery and disgust.

Across the room, Kellie was holding a glass of champagne, surrounded by socialites. She pointed at Christal and let out her signature, high-pitched laugh.

Ethan let go of Christal's waist instantly, as if touching her disgusted him. Without a word, he walked away, heading straight for Delphine March, a wealthy heiress.

Christal was left standing completely alone on the edge of the dance floor.

The guests physically stepped back from her, creating a ten-foot circle of empty space around her. She was a virus.

She watched Ethan lean in close to Delphine, whispering in her ear. Delphine giggled and shot a triumphant, mocking look directly at Christal. Christal felt nothing but deep, exhausting nausea.

The crowd suddenly parted.

Gwendolyn Vasquez walked through, looking like royalty in a custom haute couture gown. She stopped right in front of Christal, looking her up and down.

Gwendolyn's eyes locked onto the plastic ring and the revealing red dress.

"Christal," Gwendolyn said loudly, ensuring the entire room could hear. "That dress is so... fitting. It perfectly highlights your professional morals."

The crowd erupted into cruel laughter.

Kellie shouted from the back, "Well, she has to show off! Auditioning in hotel rooms takes a lot of physical labor!"

Christal bit the inside of her cheek. The metallic taste of blood flooded her mouth. She wanted to scream, to throw a glass at them, but she thought of Clara's frozen bank accounts. She forced her hands to stay at her sides.

She looked Gwendolyn dead in the eye.

"At least I don't have to rely on cheap schemes and dirty tricks to force a man to look at me," Christal said quietly, her voice trembling but laced with absolute defiance.

Gwendolyn's face went completely slack. The color drained from her cheeks, followed instantly by a flush of murderous rage. She touched her perfect nails, her chest heaving.

Gwendolyn tilted her crystal glass.

With a flick of her wrist, she threw the entire glass of dark red wine directly at Christal's chest.

Christal gasped, stumbling backward. The cold, sticky liquid soaked into the red fabric, dripping down her exposed cleavage and staining her skin. She looked pathetic and ruined.

"Oh, my hand slipped," Gwendolyn sneered, her eyes burning with hate. She turned around and walked away, her followers laughing behind her.

Christal looked across the room. Ethan was watching her. He didn't move to help. Instead, he raised his whiskey glass in a silent toast to Gwendolyn.

He brought her here to be slaughtered.

A suffocating weight crushed Christal's lungs. Tears burned her eyes. She covered her stained chest with her arms, lowered her head, and ran toward the hallway leading to the restrooms.

The air conditioning in the hallway hit her wet skin, making her shiver violently. She pushed into a bathroom stall, locked the door, and leaned against it, gasping for air. Despair swallowed her whole.

She hid in that stall for thirty minutes, staring at the floor.

Suddenly, the muffled sound of the orchestra outside stopped. It was replaced by a wave of panicked screams.

The lights in the bathroom flickered twice.

Then, they went out completely. The entire estate was plunged into absolute, suffocating darkness.