Chapter 4
One man sneered, "Look at you, acting all pure. Who are you trying to fool, you filthy slut."
Another chimed in, "Yeah, why bother standing? Just spread those legs and show us some moves. You get tired? Feel free to lie down on the table."
The room filled with cruel, mocking laughter.
A punk stepped up, blocking the door, his gaze sliding down me like oil. He smirked, "All that fabric—what a waste. Don't worry, your 'highlight reel' still gets top billing on my playlist." He flicked his tongue, laughter trailing behind him.
Miles chimed in, "Those 'behind-the-scenes' cuts? Top-tier stuff—smooth lighting, smooth... everything. Can't quit replaying it."
Someone else remarked, "Nah, the pics are legit—no shadows in the valley, everything on full display."
The vulgar comments kept coming, and everywhere I turned, eyes crawled over me as if they could peel away my clothes.
I felt like a lamb herded straight to slaughter—every ticking second only drove home how doomed I was.
My whole body started shaking uncontrollably, my eyes fixed desperately on Chris, wordless but screaming for help.
The little brother I'd busted my ass raising was curled up against the wall, head drooped so low he barely existed, too scared to speak, barely daring to breathe.
It was clear as day—Chris had schemed this from the very start, all so I'd end up nothing more than a toy for those spoiled trust-fund kids.
A man growled, "Filthy little slut, can't even follow simple orders."
He grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked so hard it felt like he was tearing my scalp away, pain shooting through me.
He yanked me straight to the marble table, not a hint of mercy.
He slammed my head down, the cold marble grinding against my cheek, like it was trying to peel off my skin.
The man sneered, "Miles told you to dance—consider it a favor. Half the country's already seen you naked, and you're still acting like you've got any pride left?"
Just then, Vivian strutted over, putting on her best act. She said, "Blake, come on, she's Chris's sister. Can't you be a little more gentle with her? Miles, don't hold it against her. Let me toast you on her behalf."
Her fake concern made me want to puke. Blake finally let go of my head and snorted, "As if—she's probably loving every second of this."
The whole room burst out laughing, their eyes full of malice as they stared me down.
Head high, I kept my face defiant—refusing to let them see me broken.
Vivian sneered, "Anna, come on. If you're so bored and lonely, just go get yourself a hookup. What's the point of posting nudes online? Planning to turn tricks now or what? Even if you're broke, at least act like you've got some self-respect.
"Fine, you don't care about your own name, but Chris does, you know. He's at one of those fancy universities—having you for a sister is just asking for trouble. You're gonna drag him down sooner or later."
Her tone was fake sweet, but every word dripped poison. She glared at me with cold eyes, like a venomous snake ready to strike.
Miles, perched in the center like he owned the place, let out a chilling chuckle. He said, "Exactly. No matter how much you love playing the tease, you've still got to think about your brother's future."
With that, he slid a brimming glass of liquor right over to me.
He said, "Here's the deal. Chug this, and I'll pull some strings to get those juicy posts wiped off the internet for you."
His gaze was so menacing and predatory that it made my skin crawl.
That primal instinct for danger kicked in hard—I wanted to run, but it felt like Death itself was looming overhead, its scythe hanging right above me.
After ages of silence, Chris finally broke down and muttered, voice trembling with nerves. He said, "Anna, please. Just drink it. Miles can clear things up online. It's for my future, and for your reputation too."
He glared at me, frustration and blame all over his face, like I was the one screwing everything up. Even his tone was desperate, almost like he couldn't believe I was making things so difficult.
All around us, the others started whistling and jeering, eating up every second of the spectacle—totally entertained by my humiliation.
In that cavernous, suffocating room, I felt utterly alone—isolated and hopeless, with no escape.
Miles let out a cold, mocking laugh.
He sneered, "If you don't drink this, your brother's fingers will get chopped off. You really want to watch that go down?"
"What?" I gasped, panic rising in my chest.