Chapter 1

Jean Mitchell pushed open the door. It was pitch-dark inside, but she could still vaguely make out the luxurious decoration.

“Anne, Anne…” she called out the name of her best friend, Anne Garrison, but there was no response.

‘Where is she? Didn’t she say she wanted to give me a wedding gift?’

The room was too dark. As she was about to find the switch on the wall, a hand, the palm of which felt fiery hot, grabbed her wrist.

“Who is it?” she screamed.

That hand pulled her forward with force, causing her to tumble. The next moment she knew it, someone had pinned her to the floor.

She panicked but could see nothing in the dark. All she could know was that it was a man.

“Go away! Who are you? Let me go!” she screamed.

“I can give you everything you want.”

The suppressed voice of the man came. His skin felt so hot that as if it could burn.

He was too strong for her. She was like a helpless kiddy.

The room was completely dark. Like the mouth of a giant beast, he swallowed her eventually.

After all that finished, the man collapsed on the floor next to her and slept.

Gathering her last bit of strength, she pulled herself up and put on her clothes with her trembling hands.

She wished she could kill the man. But tomorrow was her wedding with Patrick Mills, and she did not want anyone to find out what had happened to her here.

Neither could she call the police. Otherwise, it would ruin not only her wedding but also her stardom.

After working so hard in show business for five years, her popularity went through the roof thanks to ‘The Storm Ruler’ TV series she was starring in.

People expected her to win the best actress award this year. So she must not let this matter be exposed.

She viciously kicked the tall man on the floor.

He groaned as if he was about to wake up.

She backed away in fright and stumbled away.

As soon as she left, a woman sneaked in, took off her clothes, crawled over and took the place of Jean by lying beside the man.

…

Jean’s body hurt terribly, but not as bad as her mental trauma.

No matter what difficulties she faced in her career, she always stuck to her principles.

Outsiders said that a beautiful woman like her surely had no shortage of men.

But she always walked the line. She wanted to reserve her first night for her future husband.

But a stranger had taken that away from her.

She did not even know who that man was and what he looked like.

She banged her head against the steering wheel with force before resting on it.

She called Anne several times, but there was no answer.

She bit her lower lip and clenched her hands.

Not that she wanted to suspect her best friend, it was just that Anne was the one who had asked her to go to the Grande Hotel today. But when she had arrived there, Anne was nowhere to be seen, and that terrible thing happened.

Jean started the car and drove home. She was completely wrecked—both physically and mentally.

But the worst had yet to come.

In the new house of Patrick and her, men’s and women’s clothes were strewn from the living room to the bedroom, where the door was left ajar.

A chill washed down through her guts, and she could not even shed a tear.

Struggled with her stiffened hands, she turned on the video recording function on her phone.