Chapter 6 I Will Disfigure You

Callan stared at Lacey with a dark face, struggling to hold back his irritation as he questioned, "What are you saying?"

"I think I should resign," Lacey replied, emotionless. "There's no point in us wasting time on each other."

Over the last three years, she had dedicated herself to Callan's care. But now, with Sylvia's return, Lacey felt it was time to prioritize her career.

Leaving Owen Entertainment would open new opportunities for her and keep her out of Callan and Sylvia's affairs-a perfect solution.

Callan, however, thought Lacey couldn't wait to leave him and disassociate herself from him.

Feeling a headache coming on, Callan tried to control his growing anger. "Do you really think you've wasted your time with me?"

Lacey chose not to respond. Her high heels echoed on the floor as she walked away.

Watching her receding figure, Callan's fists tightened under his sleeves.

With a long face, he felt a bitter taste in his mouth.

So, to her, these past three years had been nothing but a waste.

If it weren't for the fact that the Owen family had helped her and she had to marry him to return the favor, she would've married Christopher long ago.

That evening, Sylvia stirred the online world with a post that rapidly caused a great uproar among her fans.

Her post read, "I suffered a serious injury today. Doctors are warning of a possible permanent scar. I missed an important banquet too. So sad."

She added a tearful emoji and a picture of her bandaged injury for effect.

The comments were predominantly sympathetic, with many expressing concern. A few inquired about the details of her injury.

Sylvia scrolled through the comments, keeping tabs on the public's reaction, a smug look on her face.

She discreetly used her assistant's account to suggest that Lacey, a stylist from Owen Entertainment, was responsible for her forehead injury.

This accusation ignited her fans' anger, leading to a flood of harsh comments about Lacey on the Internet.

Meanwhile, Lacey, who knew nothing about it, had just finished her workday.

As she headed home, her phone started ringing. She glanced at the screen and saw it was Dolores calling.

Despite her hesitation, she still answered the call.

"Great job, Lacey!" Dolores' voice, dripping with sarcasm, came through before Lacey could even speak. "You defied me yesterday at home, and now you've hurt Sylvia. You're nothing but a cruel person. We can't have someone like you in our family. Callan is right to want you gone. You should just divorce him already."

Lacey ended the call abruptly.

Dolores' biting remarks were nothing new to her. But what about Callan?

Did he also think she was responsible for Sylvia's injury and that she was cruel and vicious?

Overnight, online sentiment rapidly turned into a relentless barrage of criticism aimed at Lacey.

The next morning, as Lacey arrived at work, she noticed a crowd gathered outside the Owen Entertainment building.

"There she is!" A loud shout came from behind Lacey.

Shocked, Lacey turned around to see people lunging towards her from all sides.

Amidst the turmoil, she heard mentions of Sylvia's injury and realized the gravity of the situation.

Desperately, she managed to break free from the encircling crowd. Just as she was about to use the elevator in the underground parking lot to enter the building, a figure suddenly appeared behind her and lunged at her.

Before Lacey could even think of defending herself, a piece of cloth was pressed over her mouth.

Her eyes widened in terror, her heart pounding with fear. She tried to fight back instinctively, but she quickly blacked out.

Upon regaining consciousness, Lacey found herself in a decrepit house.

The paint on the walls was peeling, revealing a network of cracks and emitting a musty odor. The door was in a state of decay, barely clinging to a rickety frame that seemed like it could collapse with just a breeze.

To her dismay, she discovered her wrists and ankles were securely tied by ropes. Despite her efforts, she couldn't break free.

As panic set in, a fat man in his middle years entered the room.

In his hand was a glass bottle. When Lacey spotted the term "Concentrated Sulfuric Acid" on the bottle, she looked terrified.

"Who are you? What do you want?" she asked.

"You disfigured Sylvia. Now, it's your turn to feel what she felt. I will disfigure you."

The man's face, twisted in wretchedness, showed a trace of insanity. His sinister smile grew as he moved towards Lacey, step by step.

Lacey couldn't help but shiver in fear, eyeing the bottle of sulfuric acid in his grip and watching him draw nearer.

Despite her attempts to resist, she found herself powerless.

"Burn in hell, bitch!"

His eyes burning with rage, the man prepared to splash Lacey's beautiful face with the acid.

Gasping, Lacey felt cold sweat drench her back. She shut her eyes, bracing for agony, but the anticipated pain never arrived.

Out of nowhere, someone grabbed her, pulling both of them to the floor and rolling away.

A grunt followed the sudden movement.

Bewildered, Lacey opened her eyes and found herself looking up at a tall figure standing protectively in front of her.