Chapter 2

The cold wind hit my bare chest instantly.

My pale skin and the lace edge of my bra were completely exposed to the open air.

I froze.

My mind went blank for two solid seconds.

From not far away, a flurry of footsteps approached.

Julian and his wealthy trust-fund friends walked down the slope, catching the entire scene red-handed.

More than a dozen pairs of eyes stared straight at my exposed chest.

One guy even let out a low, disgusting whistle.

Instead of letting go, Chloe turned around and yelled up at Julian on the hill.

"Julian! You're one lucky bastard!"

"I just did a manual inspection for you. She's got some real assets!"

The crowd burst into roaring laughter.

The laughter felt like loud, mocking slaps across my face.

I looked at Chloe, who was still sitting on top of me.

Every line of her face screamed smug satisfaction.

This was her goal. She wanted to use the dirtiest, most humiliating way to crush me under her boots in front of Julian's entire social circle.

To strip me of my dignity. To turn me into a cheap joke for men to drool over.

Humiliation fused with a blinding rage, vaporizing my sanity.

I didn't cry. I didn't scream.

With a blank face, I reached into the mud beside me and gripped a heavy, jagged rock.

To hell with the business alliance.

To hell with being a proper lady.

I was going to crack this bitch's skull open today.

I raised my arm, aiming the rock straight at Chloe's smug face.

BANG!

A deafening shot echoed through the woods.

Instantly, a sharp, bone-crushing pain exploded in my right wrist.

My hand went limp, and the rock rolled into the muddy water.

The sheer impact made me gasp for air as I collapsed back into the mud.

I clutched my wrist, and a bright red liquid oozed through my fingers. It wasn't blood, but the red paint from a paintball.

However, the modded, solid-shell paintball had hit my wrist bone at high velocity. It was already swelling into a horrific, dark purple knot.

My wrist looked like a bloated balloon, throbbing with agonizing spasms at the slightest touch.

Pale and trembling, I turned my head.

Ten yards away.

Julian stood there, holding a heavy, modded paintball rifle, a wisp of gray smoke rising from the barrel.

He looked down at me. There wasn't a shred of concern or pity in his eyes for his humiliated fiancée.

Only annoyance and disgust.

He tossed the gun to someone nearby and marched down the slope.

Yanking Chloe up from the ground, he carefully checked her to see if she had gotten any mud on herself.

Then, shielding her behind him, he looked at me as if I were a psychopath.

"Sera, have you lost your mind?" Julian growled, his voice freezing cold.