Yao reached into Sandra's pocket and pulled out her phone, his expression darkening as he saw the caller ID. He dropped the phone in front of her, reached out, scooped up her waist, and began to move.

Arden's familiar, teasing voice rang out from the speaker. "Babe, hurry downstairs—I'm already here."

Sandra bit her lip tightly, holding her breath, refusing to let out a single moan.

The man behind her was clearly not satisfied, picking up the pace and ramming against what was left of her will.

With both arms tied behind her, unable to support herself, Sandra relied on the slight wobbles to inch closer to the phone. She jolted up against the strain in her back, then pressed the end-call with her nose.

Sandra exhaled in relief and collapsed onto the bed. The voice behind her, laced with frustration and despair, brushed against her ear. "Why not ask him to save you? Or are you just that afraid of him finding out?"

Yao snatched the phone and hit redial. The line was busy. He tried again—still no answer.

A bitter laugh slipped from Sandra's lips as she choked out, "Don't bother. He wouldn't care even if he heard everything."

Unwilling to relent, Yao kept dialing.

Sandra sucked in a sharp breath, her frustration mounting. "Why, Yao? You think this will get back at him? That treating me like this will change anything?"

Her voice broke as she cried, "He doesn't care!"

🎬🔀

Arden glanced at his phone, his brows knitting together. That woman actually dared to hang up on him. Just as he was about to redial, another call popped up—Moya.

"Talk fast," he said, irritation evident in his voice.

Moya scoffed. "Oh, so now my words are a waste of time? Fine, ignore me. But when the old man shows up this afternoon, don't say I didn't warn you."

Arden froze. A chill ran down his spine. "The old man? You mean... our dad?"

Moya clicked her tongue. "Did I say anything? I don't remember saying anything."

His grip on the phone tightened, frustration boiling over. "Quit messing around. Is he really coming? Why?"

"What else? Haven't you heard? The esteemed young heir of the Lam family has thrown himself into the modeling world for love—offering up his body in the name of 'natural beauty.' Our old man wants to see for himself what kind of woman has lured his precious son into this mess."

Arden nearly choked on air, rolling his eyes in disbelief. "You told him that?"

"Of course not," Moya said breezily. "Do I look like a troublemaker?"

"Yes," Arden shot back instantly.

Moya giggled. "Not this time. It was Uncle Chan. Apparently, the old man nearly had a heart attack when he heard the news and booked a ticket on the spot. By my calculations, his flight should be landing around 1 or 2 p.m. That gives you... about four hours."

"Shit!" Arden cursed, panic kicking in as he bolted out of the car and sprinted upstairs.

"Sandra? Sandra?" Arden barged in, colliding with April, who staggered back.

"Hey, you—"

Ignoring her, Arden strode through the already cramped apartment—bedroom, bathroom, balcony, closet. He even yanked open the washing machine. Finally, he turned to April, his voice sharp. "Where's Sandra?"

"She... she..." April stammered, unable to finish.

Arden grabbed her shoulder. "She what? Where is she?"

April pointed toward the front door. Arden followed her gaze, yanked open the fridge next to it—nothing.

"She left early this morning," April finally managed.

"Left early? I told her I was picking her up for school today, and she left early? Where did she go?"

"I don't know."

Arden circled back, grabbing April again. "How could you not know? Aren't you her roommate? How could you not know where she went?"

April, a bit dizzy from being shaken, stammered, "She left before I woke up."

"Great. Just great." Arden ran both hands through his hair, standing still as he took a deep breath, trying to steady himself.

"What's wrong? Is something happening?" April, affected by his anxiety, started to feel nervous as well.

Arden tilted his head, looking her up and down, making her uneasy. She crossed her arms and took a few steps back. "What are you going to do?"

"Please, I need a favor."

April eyed him warily. "I have class later."

"Class? Are you serious? People are dying, and you're still thinking about class?"

"Dying?" April was startled. "What happened to Sandra?"

Arden waved a hand dismissively. "I don't know what happened with her, but I'm about to die."

"You?"

Arden grabbed April's shoulders, leaning down to meet her gaze. "How about it—be my girlfriend for a day?"

April froze, processing his words. Then, realizing what he meant, she quickly waved her hands. "No, no, that's not possible!"

"It's just acting. I'll pay you." Arden pulled out his wallet, flipped through it, and found only a few bills. Frowning, he yanked out a sleek black card and slammed it onto the kitchen counter. "Take it. Swipe it however you like."

April stared at the card, astonished. "You actually have...?"

"How about it? Will you agree?" Arden pressed.

April hesitated, slightly tempted. "But what about Sandra...?"

"Who knows where she ran off to? Just deal with it for now until she shows up. I'll still pay you."

"Okay... okay. But it's a fake girlfriend, right?"

"Of course, it's fake. Do you want it to be real?"

April picked up the card, eyeing it suspiciously. "What's the limit on this card?"

With the immediate crisis momentarily settled, Arden relaxed, his sharp gaze catching the greedy glint in her eyes. A wicked smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "There's no limit."

April cautiously asked, "No limit means I can swipe it however I want? Aren't you worried about not being able to pay the bill?"

Arden reached out, slipping an arm around April's neck in a teasing manner. His posture was ambiguous as he leaned in, whispering near her ear, "Babe, that depends on whether you can keep swiping."

🎬🔀

Yao gently untied the cloth strip around Sandra's wrist, his fingers brushing against the bruised skin. She flinched, instinctively pulling her hand back, curling up like a trapped worm—small, vulnerable, retreating into herself.

Yao sighed, pulling the blanket over both of them before wrapping his arms around her. Sandra made a weak attempt to resist but soon gave in, turning her back to him and letting him hold her.

"I'm sorry," Yao murmured, burying his face in her hair.

Why did people only realize their regrets after they had already hurt someone—and themselves? Why didn't they think before acting?

"Sandy," Yao began softly, his confusion raw. "Since you know he doesn't care, since you know he's just playing with you, why do you still...?"

Sandra had no answer. She stayed silent.

"Did I do something wrong?" His voice tightened. "Haven't I been good to you? Why are you treating me like this? What did I do wrong? I thought about it all night, but I still can't figure out what I did to make you fall into his arms."

Yao suddenly propped himself up, turning Sandra over to face him. His gaze searched hers, dark with urgency. "Did he threaten you? Did he force you?"

Sandra shook her head, her voice flat, hollow. "No, Yao. You haven't done anything wrong. You've always been good to me. I know that. It's my fault. I'm the one who's wrong. I'm cheap. I couldn't resist temptation. He didn't force me. He didn't threaten me. I went willingly."

"You..." Yao raised his hand high.

Sandra closed her eyes, bracing for the slap—but it never came.

"Do you like him?" His voice cracked with heartbreak.

Sandra opened her eyes, meeting his gaze blankly. She didn't answer, but her silence spoke for her.

Yao's face twisted with fury. "Why are women always like this? She was like this, and now you are too."

Sandra knew exactly who he meant—his ex-girlfriend back home. They had been together for three years, even talked about marriage. But after Yao competed in an international tournament, she left him for the American competitor who had beaten him.

Her reasons had been brutally pragmatic. The American had a prestigious university degree and a career as a lawyer. Yao had grown up in a sports academy and knew only martial arts. The American could offer her status, a large house, security—while Yao could promise only a life spent in the dorms of a training center. Most of all, the American had defeated him. In the end, the victor took everything, and the loser had no grounds to complain.

"What can he give you that I can't?" Yao's voice trembled. "Status? Money? Just wait. After I graduate, I'll stay in this country, apply for immigration, and work my way into the best law firm. Whatever you want, I'll give it to you."

Sandra shook her head. "I don't want those things."

"Then what do you want?" he demanded.

Sandra hesitated. "Do you really want me to tell you the truth?"

Yao faltered, but then nodded.

A long silence stretched between them. When Sandra finally spoke, her answer was soft—but it cut like a blade.

"I don't know."

She couldn't say it. The truth would be too cruel.

What she wanted was the unspoken connection in a single glance—deep, undeniable, unbreakable.

What she wanted was the wild, uncontrollable pounding in her chest when they were close.

What she wanted was the magnetic pull of their bodies, the desperate need to become one.

What she wanted was the kind of joy that made the rest of the world disappear, leaving only him.

Yao could offer devotion, promises, a future. But he couldn't give her these.

That man—at least, he had shown her a glimpse of heaven.

🎬🔀

The man who had once taken Sandra to heaven was now shopping extravagantly downtown—with another girl.

April hesitated outside the upscale boutique, eyeing the elegant gold-lettered sign. "Do we really need to go in here? We could just hit Winners. They have branded stuff on discount too."

Arden sighed impatiently, wrapping an arm around her waist and steering her inside. Without a second glance, he handed her over to a sharp-dressed sales assistant.

"Help her pick out an outfit for meeting the parents," he instructed.

"Of course, Mr. Lam. Please, have a seat. We'll take care of everything," the assistant replied smoothly.

Minutes later, April stepped out of the fitting room in a tailored little suit, fidgeting with the cuffs. She looked stiff, uncomfortable. Arden, already dressed in a sleek, perfectly fitted suit, gave her a quick once-over before grabbing her by the arm and striding toward the exit.

"Don't we need to pay?" April asked, glancing nervously at the bowing sales staff.

Arden walked out the door without breaking stride. "It's handled."

Before she could argue, he ushered her into a newly rented Audi A8 and pulled into traffic, taking them to their next destination.

While April was getting her hair and makeup done, Arden's phone buzzed. He glanced at the caller ID, sighed, and stepped into a quiet corner before answering.

"Dad."

"Brat, where are you?"

"I'm in class," Arden lied smoothly.

"In class? Can you even take calls during class?"

"I saw it was your call, Dad. Even if I were in the middle of an exam, I'd step out to answer." A well-practiced line.

"Nonsense," Mr. Lam grumbled, though his tone softened slightly. "I sent you abroad to study, not to get involved in this foolishness."

"Yes, Dad, you're absolutely right," Arden replied, his voice dripping with compliance. 

"When are you coming home?"

Feigning ignorance, Arden said, "I've been swamped with schoolwork, but I'll definitely visit for Christmas."

"Hah! Busy with school? More like you can't bear to leave that girlfriend of yours."

"How could that be? Family always comes first," Arden assured him.

Mr. Lam cut straight to the point. "I'm at your Uncle Chan's place. Bring your girlfriend over for dinner tonight."

Arden feigned surprise. "Dad, you're in Vancouver? Why didn't you tell me earlier? I could've picked you up from the airport. I feel bad for troubling Uncle Chan and his family."

"Tell you earlier? So you could set up your tricks and fool me? I wasn't born yesterday."

"Dad, how could I deceive you? If anything, I'd want you to rest at my place. Aunt Chan hasn't been feeling well recently, and Lucy still has schoolwork. Let's not trouble them tonight." Arden couldn't risk big-mouthed Lucy recognizing his fake girlfriend.

"I avoided your place deliberately after landing. I didn't want to stumble upon whatever nonsense you're hiding there."

"Dad, that's absurd! Would I be that kind of person?"

"Not that kind of person? Then why were you prancing around naked as a figure model?"

"Dad, that was art."

As Arden continued arguing, he caught his reflection in the mirror. His stomach dropped. The "crop circles" on either side of his head sent a chill down his spine.

After a few more minutes of appeasing his father, he hung up and turned to the stylist.

"Can I get hair extensions here?"

🎬🔀

Yao ended yet another call from Arden, watching as the phone's battery finally gave out, leaving the screen lifeless and black.

Every time it rang, he had the urge to answer, to tell Arden that Sandra was with him now. Yet, every time, he hesitated.

He glanced over at Sandra, curled up injured in his bed. The haze of alcohol had lifted, leaving behind a crushing weight of regret.

No amount of excuses could justify his actions, and Yao wasn't about to hide behind the alcohol. He knew he had crossed a line.

The mocking words of Arden echoed in his ears, sharp and cutting: "Let's see if she's happier with you, or if she moans louder in my bed."

He couldn't even give her happiness. What else did he have to offer?

That's why he couldn't let Arden know Sandra was here. If she left now, she might never return.

The more Yao feared losing her, the faster the inevitability of it seemed to close in.

Sandra, regaining some strength, sluggishly sat up and glanced around. "Yao, where did you throw my jeans?"

Yao stepped closer, standing by the bedside and looking down at her. "You should rest a little longer."

Sandra wrapped the blanket around herself and started to climb out of bed. "I need to go. I have an appointment with Ms. Julianne this afternoon to discuss the art exhibition."

Yao reached out, his hand firm yet gentle as he pressed her shoulder back down. "I told you to stay a little longer."

Sandra sat up again, meeting his gaze. Her voice was calm but unwavering. "Yao, enough is enough. I'm sorry. You've already had your revenge. I don't blame you for what happened today—I just assumed you drank too much and lost control. But we've reached the end, and since you said we couldn't be friends anymore, let's at least part on good terms."

Suddenly, Yao dropped to his knees, clinging to her legs, his face buried in her thighs. "Sandy, I'm sorry. I was wrong. Please don't leave, okay? Please don't go."

Sandra stared down at him, revulsion twisting in her gut. Any regret she'd once felt over losing their friendship—any lingering guilt for her betrayal—vanished. The patience she had once offered him had been completely eroded.

But Yao, blind to the shift in her emotions, clung tighter, his voice trembling with desperation. "Sandy, let's just forget this. Let's start over, okay?"

Something inside Sandra snapped. Her anger surged, raw and uncontrollable. "Forget this? What exactly are we pretending didn't happen, Yao? Me sleeping with another man? Or you raping me? You might be able to lie to yourself, but I won't!"

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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