Chapter 5

The invitation was a command. Hudson was taking both me and Ginger to the annual Starlight Charity Gala, the biggest social event of the year. It was a public declaration.

The moment I stepped out of the car, I felt the eyes on me. The whispers followed me like a cloud of insects.

"Is that the dress Ginger wore to Cannes last year?"

"How pathetic. The wife wearing the mistress's hand-me-downs."

"Can you blame him for losing interest? Look at her."

The words were sharp, not even veiled. They wanted me to hear. I felt my face pale, my hands growing cold. I hadn't realized. He had given me this dress this morning, telling me it would be perfect. He knew. He wanted me to be humiliated.

Then, a bucket of something wet and sticky suddenly drenched me from above.

I gasped, stumbling back. The liquid was thick, red, and smelled horribly of iron.

Pig's blood.

I stood there, dripping, a caricature of a horror movie victim. The crowd erupted in laughter.

"It suits her!" someone shouted. "Trash belongs with trash!"

I looked up and saw one of Ginger's sycophantic friends on a balcony above, an empty bucket in her hand, a malicious grin on her face. It was her. And I knew, with absolute certainty, that Ginger had orchestrated the entire thing.

My eyes darted to Hudson, a desperate, silent plea for help.

He was looking right at me. Not with pity, not with anger on my behalf, but with a cold, clear look of blame. As if I had brought this on myself. As if my very presence had created this disgusting scene.

My heart, which I thought couldn't break any further, simply went cold. It was a final, quiet death. The last ember of hope extinguished.

His silent condemnation was a blade twisting in my gut.

I am innocent, a voice screamed inside my head. I did nothing. Why won't you see me?

The light in my eyes, the one that had always searched for him, finally dimmed. It was over. I no longer loved him. The realization didn't bring relief, only a vast, empty wasteland where my heart used to be.

Across the room, Ginger's phone buzzed. She looked at it, and her face contorted. First shock, then a rage so potent it made her eyes turn red.

She let out a piercing shriek and ran towards me, her face a mask of theatrical grief.

"Aleen! How could you?!" she screamed, shoving her phone in my face. "How could you do something so vile!"

I flinched back. She grabbed my arm, her nails digging in. "You dug up my mother's grave! You dug up her ashes and scattered them! You monster!"

The accusation was so monstrous, so insane, that I couldn't even process it. "What? No! That's a lie!"

"A lie?" she sobbed, holding up her phone for everyone to see. It was a video, dark and grainy. A figure that looked vaguely like me was in a cemetery at night, digging frantically at a grave.

"The security cameras caught you!" she wailed. "It's all there!"

Hudson was by her side in an instant. His hand clamped around my wrist like a vice, his face a horrifying mask of fury.

"You did this?" he growled. "After everything, you did this?"

"No," I choked out, shaking my head frantically. "Hudson, you have to believe me. I didn't."

"The video doesn't lie, Aleen," he said, his voice dropping to a deadly calm. He pulled Ginger into his arms, leaving the party with her. As they passed, he snarled at his bodyguards, "Bring her."

They dragged me, covered in blood and filth, to his car.

The destination was a cemetery. Ginger's family plot.

One of the graves was indeed disturbed, the earth freshly turned. Hudson didn't say a word. He went to the trunk of his car and pulled out a heavy canvas bag. He emptied its contents onto the ground.

Shards of broken glass and jagged pieces of metal.

"You went too far this time, Aleen," he said, his voice flat and devoid of any emotion. He gestured to the pile. "Kneel. A hundred kowtows. Until you beg for forgiveness."

My face went white. "Hudson... I'm telling you, it wasn't me." I looked at him, truly looked at him. "You would do this? For her?"

He didn' t answer. He simply nodded to his men.

They grabbed me, forcing me down.

My knees hit the sharp glass. A scream of pure agony was ripped from my throat.

I saw a flicker of something in Hudson's eyes-pity? Regret? It was there for a second, then it was gone, replaced by a cold mask.

"You brought this on yourself," he said.

They forced my head down, again and again. The world became a blur of excruciating pain, the smell of damp earth, and the sound of Ginger's quiet, triumphant sobs.

When it was over, my forehead was a bloody mess, my knees shredded. I collapsed onto the wet ground, my body and soul screaming in unison.

If I could go back in time, I thought, my vision blurring, I would have let him die on the side of that road. Loving him was the mistake that had cost me everything.