Chapter 3

The cyber-bullying followed me offline, leaving me with nowhere to turn. Both my work and personal life were in ruins. In the end, I had no choice but to move.

The taxi pulled up to the curb, and I hugged a box of random stuff as I made my way toward my rented place. That was when a beer bottle suddenly came flying out of nowhere and smashed right into my head.

I didn't dare go out during the day, afraid someone would spot me. So I could only move at night.

It was eleven at night, and this was a remote suburban neighborhood. There was hardly anyone on the street.

Blood snaked down from my hair, blurring my eyes.

The man who threw the bottle slowly stepped into the glow of the streetlamp, giving me a leering, sleazy grin.

He'd been stalking me for days, not doing anything else—just tailing me everywhere I went. I'd called the police, and they'd warned him, but the moment he finished signing that promise to stay away, he was back on my trail like nothing happened.

He was a fan of Charlotte. He wore glasses, was tall, with hair down to his neck, sunken cheeks, and dead, empty eyes. The whole vibe he gave off was downright sinister.

He gripped a baseball bat, smacking it against his palm as he strolled toward me with a lazy, menacing swagger.

I dropped the box, not caring about the throbbing pain and dizziness in my head, and spun around, running for my life.

The streetlights in the alley kept flickering, messing with my eyes until everything went black and I stumbled straight into a puddle.

The man caught up to me, letting out a chilling laugh.

The fear inside me kept rising, hitting its peak just as his laughter was almost upon me.

I fumbled for my phone, my hands shaking uncontrollably. Before I could even hit the emergency call, pain exploded in my arm and my phone was knocked from my grasp.

The man grabbed my hair and dragged me into the shadows. "You filthy bitch, I finally caught you," he snarled.

I forced down my fear and gritted my teeth. "This is illegal. I've already called the cops."

But my words didn't seem to faze him at all.

He slapped me hard across the face, then wrapped his hand around my neck, squeezing tight. "Letty's so wonderful, and you almost got her killed. Scum like you doesn't deserve to live."

His grin was twisted and vicious, eyes bulging as he grabbed my hair and smashed me against the wall.

On the ground, his shadow loomed, showing him lifting the baseball bat high.

I was on my knees, my forehead pressed to the wall, utterly powerless to fight back.

As I braced myself for death, eyes squeezed shut, a sudden screech of brakes tore through the night. An instant later, a blinding white light burst into the shadowy alley.

The man threw up his arm to shield his eyes.

I couldn't let my guard down for even a second. Taking advantage of his distraction, I scrambled up and made a desperate dash toward the car.

When I reached it, I banged on the window desperately. "Please, help me!" I shouted to whoever was inside.

Inside, the man's face was hidden in the shadows, hard to make out.

His hand slipped out the window, flicking the ash from the cigarette held between his fingers. Then he turned to look at me, his tone carrying a teasing edge. "If I help you, how are you going to pay me back?"

I grabbed his hand like it was my last lifeline, refusing to let go. "Whatever you say."

Before I could even process what was happening, a sharp pain shot through my scalp as the man who wanted to kill me grabbed my hair from behind, yanking me back against his chest. He pointed the baseball bat at the person in the car, his voice low and threatening. "This is between me and my girlfriend. None of your business. Get lost."

A mocking laugh came from inside the car, followed by the sound of a door opening.

A man stepped out, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit and polished leather shoes. A few strands of hair fell carelessly over his forehead, his refined appearance tinged with a hint of lazy nonchalance.

He flicked his cigarette to the ground, grinding it out with the heel of his shoe before striding toward us.

As his sharp features came into focus, I stared at him in shock, completely forgetting the danger I was in.

Standing right in front of me was the origin of this massive cyber-bullying.

He was the male lead of Charlotte's scandal, the CEO of Sterling Enterprises, Edmund Sterling.

It was because the paparazzi had caught Charlotte and Edmund checking into a hotel room that her secrets were exposed, and I ended up taking the blame for her.

The man holding me was visibly shaken by Edmund's intimidating aura, his hand trembling around my neck.

"Let her go and turn yourself in," Edmund said, his words simple but carrying a chilling authority.

The man dragged me backward, pointing the baseball bat at Edmund. "Back off, or I'll mess you up too."

Edmund frowned, and he clicked his tongue impatiently before lunging forward.

I screamed, hugging my head and squeezing my eyes tightly shut.

The world spun, and I hit the ground, hearing the man cry out in pain.

With my hands still covering my eyes, I slowly parted my fingers and saw Edmund, baseball bat in hand, mercilessly beating the man curled up on the ground.

Seeing that Edmund was about to beat the man to death, I hurriedly shouted, "Stop! Any more and you'll kill him!"

Edmund stopped abruptly, turning to look at me. Then he tossed the bat aside, crouched down, grabbed the man by the hair, and said coldly, "If you don't turn yourself in, you'll regret being born, understand?"

The man clutched his head, nodding frantically, his voice trembling with tears.

Right now, even prison seemed less terrifying than having Edmund's eyes on him.

I pushed myself up from the ground, my heart pounding as I stared at Edmund in a mix of terror and anxiety.

This was the edge of the city—someone as important as him showing up here was anything but normal.

The scandal was supposed to be about Charlotte and Edmund, but somehow, I became the scapegoat. He clearly knew the truth, yet he never said a word about it.

I had no idea where he stood when it came to Charlotte—or to me.

Now that he'd suddenly shown up, I couldn't help but suspect he was here because of me.

Right now, I was like a startled bird, and every little sound made me jumpy and on edge.

He walked right up to me, grabbed my chin, turning my face from side to side. His cold eyes grew even darker.

"Does it hurt?" he asked, wiping the corner of my mouth with his thumb.

Without thinking, I brushed his hand away and stumbled back, lowering my head. "Thank you for saving me," I mumbled.

Up until now, I'd been so wired and desperate to escape that I barely even registered the injuries I'd gotten.

But now, with the threat of death finally gone and my nerves letting up just a little, pain crashed over me in a wave.

It hurt so bad I nearly blacked out.

He quickly caught me as I nearly collapsed, and before I could even regain my balance, he suddenly carried me up and strode toward the car.

"What are you doing? Put me down!" I yelped, flustered and embarrassed.

I struggled a couple of times, but he suddenly let go. Caught off guard, I crashed to the ground, my already battered body now suffering fresh pain on top of the old wounds.

Edmund crouched down, took hold of my chin, and sneered, "I thought you were something else, but it looks like you're nothing much after all."