Chapter 6

Scarlett's POV

The cafe was in a secluded spot and rarely got busy, making it my go-to refuge whenever I felt overwhelmed.

I chose a table by the window and ordered a glass of warm water.

When the waiter brought my glass over, his eyes darted away shiftily. But exhausted to the bone, I failed to notice his suspicious behavior. I picked up the glass and drank half of it.

Barely ten minutes passed before a bizarre, burning heat and a wave of intense dizziness swept through my body like a tsunami. My vision began to blur, and my limbs went completely limp, as if all the strength had been drained from my bones.

*Something is wrong...* I bit down hard on the tip of my tongue, using the sharp pain to force myself to stay conscious. I struggled to my feet, desperate to leave, but I didn't even have the strength to stand. I stumbled blindly and collapsed into the adjacent hallway.

"Ms. Sanders? Are you alright? Are you feeling unwell? Let me help you up to a guest room on the second floor to rest." The same waiter immediately appeared at my side, hauling me up semi-forcibly and dragging me toward the stairs.

I tried to cry out for help, but only a weak whimper escaped my throat. The drug was working too fast, ruthlessly stealing my consciousness away.

By the time I was tossed onto the soft mattress of the second-floor bedroom, my vision had gone completely dark. I heard the distinct *click* of the door being locked, followed immediately by the coarse, gravelly laughter of several men.

"Tsk, tsk. So this is the Ms. Sanders who threw herself at Mr. Foster? Damn, she really is gorgeous."

"Ms. Summers told us to take good care of her. We need to take plenty of explicit photos—the raunchier, the better. Lucky us today."

Hearing "Ms. Summers" sent a jolt of sheer terror through my drug-addled brain. Chloe! Chloe was trying to ruin me!

Despair rushed over me like a black tide, drowning me instantly. I watched as the men, their faces twisted in hideous grins, rubbed their hands together and closed in on me. Instinctively, I shrank back into the corner of the bed.

"Don't touch me... Get away!" I screamed with the very last of my strength, but my voice came out as a breathless whimper, only fueling their sickening lust.

*Riiip—*

A rough hand grabbed the collar of my coat and ripped it open. The sound of tearing fabric cut through the room like a knife. My pale shoulders were exposed to the air, making the men's eyes flare with heat as they raised their phones, snapping photos frantically.

"Don't touch me! You're disgusting! Get away from me!"

Adrenaline surged through me. I grabbed the heavy table lamp from the nightstand behind me and smashed it violently over the head of the man closest to me.

*Crash!* The glass shade shattered into pieces. The man shrieked, clutching his bleeding forehead as he stumbled backward.

"Bitch!" another man roared, lunging forward and slapping me hard across the face.

The blow made my vision go black, blood instantly blooming at the corner of my lips. But the sharp pain also brought back a fleeting moment of clarity.

I glanced at the men closing in, then turned my head to look at the open French doors behind me that led to the second-floor balcony.

This was the second floor. Jumping down could paralyze me, or even kill me. But compared to being violated by these scumbags and letting Chloe use those photos to ruin me for life, I would rather die!

Without a second thought, I shoved the man in front of me aside. Like a bird plunging into a storm, I threw myself toward the open doors and leaped.

The wind roared in my ears. I closed my eyes, bracing myself for the impact of pain.

But the expected crash never came.

Instead, I tumbled into a broad, solid chest that smelled faintly of tobacco.

The sheer force of the fall drew a low grunt from the man who caught me. Together, we rolled onto the soft grass below.

I opened my eyes in terror, looking up to find a handsome, frantic face.

Raymond Payne.

He was the son of my late mother's close friend—the man who had always quietly watched over me from afar at high society banquets, his gaze deep and unreadable.

"Scarlett! Are you alright?!" Raymond held me tightly against him as I shivered in my torn clothes. Seeing the blood on my lips and the sheer terror in my eyes, a chilling, murderous rage flared in his gaze.

"Raymond... save me..." I choked out, clutching his lapel like a lifeline. Then, the darkness took over, and I couldn't speak another word.

Raymond stripped off his trench coat and wrapped it tightly around my shivering frame. He looked up, his gaze freezing on the men peering out of the second-floor window. "Destroy them," he commanded his bodyguards, his voice dripping with ice.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back in my own bedroom at the Sanders estate.

Beside the bed sat Arthur Sanders. He looked as if he had aged ten years overnight, his eyes sunken and shot through with red veins. The moment he saw me open my eyes, his tears spilled over.

"Dad..." my voice came out in a dry raspy whisper.

"You're awake... thank God you're awake," Arthur muttered, gripping my hand so hard his fingers shook. "Scarlett, you have to listen to me. We can't wait until next week. You have to leave the country tonight! I've already rescheduled your flight."

I froze. "Why the sudden rush?"

Arthur closed his eyes, turning his head away in sheer agony, unable to meet my gaze.

A sickening dread pooled in my stomach. I reached out, grabbed the tablet from my nightstand, and opened the local news.

The screen was flooded with photos of me.

In the pictures, my clothes were half-torn off, and I was surrounded by several pixelated men. Though there were no photos of actual assault, the compromising angles, my disheveled hair, my dazed eyes, and my torn clothing were more than enough to invite the worst kind of speculation.

[Scarlett Sanders' Wild Night Out: Inside the Socialite's Out-of-Control Private Life!]

[The Truth Behind Why Mr. Foster Called Off the Wedding: Ms. Sanders Exposed!]

[Scarlett Sanders' Downfall: A Disgrace to Her Late Mother's Legacy!]

That last headline in particular was being aggressively reposted by countless media outlets.

The tablet slipped from my numb fingers, falling onto the blanket. I stared blankly at the ceiling, feeling my entire world collapse around me.

Chloe had moved far too quickly. Before I had even leaped from that balcony, those men had already taken the photos and sent them to her.

I didn't care how much they dragged my name through the mud, or how they labeled me a shameless whore. But how dare they... how dare they use such vile, venomous words to drag my sweet, gentle mother into this?!