The door opened, revealing April, still dressed as she had been when she left Arden's place. She'd never looked this stunning before—she had to savor it for a few more hours. She wasn't Cinderella; she didn't need to turn back into a pumpkin at midnight.

"Has Sandra come back yet?" Arden asked immediately, his urgency clear.

Moya, lounging on the couch, smirked playfully. "You sure got here fast. Didn't Dad try to stop you? I never thought I'd see you care about a woman this much."

Arden shot her a sharp glare. "If you make another joke like that, I'll strip you and throw you to Phil and the others."

The threat didn't faze Moya; her smile only widened. "I knew it—you treat Sandra differently from everyone else."

Frustrated, Arden gave up on her and turned to April. "Does she often stay out all night?"

April shook her head. "Only once."

"When?"

"On her birthday last year. She got dumped by her boyfriend that day, went to a nightclub, and didn't come back until the afternoon of the next day."

Arden's thoughts churned. "When is her birthday?"

"July 21st."

Moya's eyes lit up with realization. "Oh, she's a Cancer."

A memory resurfaced in Arden's mind, and his thoughts came to a sudden halt. 

So that was the time... the one-night stand. With me.

Arden clenched his jaw as the realization hit him. He had just severed ties between Sandra and that big guy yesterday, and now he couldn't help but wonder—had she gone out for another one-night stand today? Was he really not enough for her? The thought gnawed at him, stoking his frustration.

April's worried voice cut through his spiraling thoughts. "When I got home, there was a voicemail from her teacher, Julianne. She said they were supposed to have a meeting this afternoon about an exhibition, but Sasa never showed up. This exhibition is really important to her. Sasa wouldn't miss it unless something was seriously wrong."

Arden's frown deepened, his brows furrowing tightly.

Moya, clearly indifferent to the tension in the room, sauntered over and flicked his carefully styled hair. "When I first saw you earlier, I almost burst out laughing. What kind of hairstyle is that? Trying to be Kim Taehyung?"

Arden swatted her hand away, irritation sharpening his tone. "Touch my hair again, and I'll chop off your hand."

Ignoring Moya's smirk, he turned back to April, his expression now serious. "Do you have the phone number of that guy? Yao?"

🎬🔀

Sandra sat on Yao's bed, hugging her knees, wrapped in a blanket, staring blankly at the streetlights outside. The room felt suffocating, the silence pressing down on her like a physical weight.

Yao sat on the floor, his back against the wall, absently clutching a bag of pineapple cakes. His gaze never left her. She seemed distant, lost in her thoughts, completely disconnected from the room, from him.

"Sandy, please eat something. You haven't eaten all day," he pleaded, his voice soft but tinged with desperation.

Sandra remained silent, her eyes still fixed on the glowing city beyond the window. After a long pause, she muttered sulkily, "I want a hamburger."

Yao hesitated for a second, then nodded. "I'll ask my roommate to get one."

Sandra's gaze snapped to him, sharp and icy. "Yao, is this fun for you? Keeping me here like this? Do you think you can trap me forever?"

Yao lowered his head, her words striking like a blow. He couldn't meet her eyes. He knew she was right, but acknowledging it only made the silence between them heavier.

From the living room, a phone rang faintly before being quickly answered. The muffled voice was a brief interruption, but it did little to break the oppressive tension in the room.

The silence stretched on, thick and unbearable, until Yao finally spoke, his voice fragile and filled with regret. "Sandy, will you forgive me?"

His wide, pitiful eyes resembled those of a lost puppy, but Sandra didn't look at him.

"Sandra, I'm sorry," Yao continued, his voice faltering. "I drank too much. I didn't mean to hurt you..." 

The words hung in the air, uncertain and pleading, but they couldn't bridge the growing chasm between them.

Sandra remained silent, her expression unreadable.

"You must understand what it feels like to be betrayed by someone you care about," Yao pressed on, his voice strained. "I only... I only did it because..." His words trailed off, tangled in his own guilt and confusion.

"I understand, Yao," Sandra interrupted, her voice sharp and brittle. "I understand all of it. What I don't understand is why you won't let me go home. Why you're keeping me here? You've already taken your revenge, haven't you? Isn't that enough?"

Her eyes blazed with fury, her voice trembling as emotions threatened to overwhelm her. Sandra could feel her self-control slipping, but Yao's relentless actions were pushing her to the brink.

Yao froze, his expression darkening. Abruptly, he stood, his fists clenching at his sides. "If I let you go," he demanded, his voice low and unsteady, "will you go to him?"

The question struck her like a slap, stealing her breath for a moment. But then the anger surged back, stronger than ever. "What's it to you whether I go to him or not?" she snapped, her voice sharp, rising with fury.

Yao's face contorted, torn between hurt and possessiveness. He took a step toward her, his tone desperate, almost pleading.

"Of course it matters! It matters because I care about you, Sandy. I cherish you!" His voice cracked, raw with emotion. "And then he—he just shows up, acting like none of it matters. How am I supposed to accept that?"

Sandra's lip curled, her words cutting like a blade. "If that's what you're upset about, then let me make it clear—I slept with him a year ago."

The room seemed to freeze. Yao stood motionless, the color draining from his face as the weight of her confession sank in. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. "You're saying... I'm the third party?"

Her fury erupted, obliterating any remaining restraint. "Yes, Yao, you're the third wheel!" she spat. "You were just a shield I grabbed when I needed one. I used you to push him away, but it didn't work."

Her voice cracked, but the anger burned on, unyielding. "Because I realized I couldn't get rid of him. I can't stop myself. I like sleeping with him. I'm cheap, I'm a slut—is that what you wanted to hear? Are you satisfied now?"

The words were sharp and cruel, slicing through the fragile silence.

Yao's face contorted, his expression shifting between horror and rage. A low, guttural sound—primal and raw—escaped his throat, reverberating through the room like a monster stirring awake.

Sandra's chest tightened as the atmosphere shifted, the air growing heavier, oppressive. For a fleeting moment, pity flickered through her—a brief mourning for their friendship. But there was no turning back now, no salvaging the wreckage.

She met Yao's gaze, her own eyes cold and unyielding. Any remnants of sympathy, guilt, or tenderness had dissolved, leaving behind nothing but a chilling emptiness. Their connection was a brittle thread, frayed and worn. Perhaps it was time to cut it cleanly—to let it snap once and for all.

And then, chaos.

The room erupted into motion, frantic and uncoordinated. It was impossible to tell who moved first—whether it was Yao, lunging toward her, desperation and fury driving his actions, or Sandra, springing from the bed, propelled by anger and defiance.

They were two cornered animals, lost in the fury of the moment, consumed by their rage, hurt, and a twisted need for resolution, no matter how destructive.

🎬🔀

Arden's grip on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles turning white. The engine roared like a caged beast, the tires screeching against the pavement as if they shared his desperate need to escape. Anger, frustration, and the sickening images of Sandra with another man coiled around his mind like a vice, tightening with every mile.

"Arden, slow down!" Moya's voice cut through the chaos, sharp and urgent, but it barely registered over the pounding in Arden's chest and the guttural roar of the engine.

If only he'd taken his SVJ—he could've gone faster.

In the back seat, April clutched her seatbelt, her face pale, lips pressed into a thin line. Her fear wasn't just from the reckless speed—it was the suffocating tension filling the car, the unspoken fury radiating from Arden like a storm about to break.

"She's at Yao's place," Arden muttered, his voice low and bitter. The words scraped against his throat like gravel.

He had called Yao's number earlier. It had rung several times before Yao's roommate finally answered.

Sandra was there.

Yao, drunk and barely coherent, had been dumped at home by a hooker. Sandra, on the other hand, hadn't left his bedroom since she walked in. And the roommate—hesitant, uneasy—mentioned hearing something.

Strange noises.

Sounds that didn't sit right.

Arden's blood surged, his temples pounding in sync with the sharp, searing pain of betrayal. His grip on the steering wheel tightened until the leather groaned under the pressure. A violent, unrelenting urge swelled within him—dark, primal, and all-consuming.

That impulse drove him straight to Yao's apartment building. He didn't bother with the elevator, taking the stairs two at a time, his breath ragged with fury.

Yao's roommate opened the door for them.

"Where's his bedroom?" Arden demanded, his voice edged with a dangerous calm as he grabbed Yao's roommate by the collar.

The stunned man stammered, eyes wide with alarm, then pointed shakily to the door at the end of the hallway.

Arden didn't hesitate. The door wasn't locked, but he wasn't in the mood for doorknobs. With a single, brutal kick, the old wooden frame splintered, and the door slammed open, crashing against the wall with a force that shook the entire apartment.

The scene before Arden was pure chaos—raw, and violent.

Yao had Sandra pinned to the carpet, his hands clamped around her throat, his face twisted into a grotesque snarl. She was half-naked, her legs thrashing wildly, struggling with every ounce of strength she had left.

At the explosive crash of the door, both of them froze. Wide, stunned eyes turned toward Arden, their expressions momentarily slack with shock.

Arden didn't pause.

Rage surged through him, white-hot and unrelenting. Without a word, he lifted his leg and drove a brutal kick straight into Yao's chin.

Yao's body flew backward, his head slamming against the wall before he crumpled to the floor. But Arden wasn't finished. Before Yao could even gasp for breath, another vicious kick drove into his chest, forcing a strangled groan from his lips.

"How dare you touch my woman... How dare you lay a hand on a woman... You're a disgrace to men," Arden snarled, his voice thick with fury.

April and Moya burst onto the scene just moments too late to witness the door's violent destruction—but in time to see Arden, eyes blazing, kicking Yao around like a discarded piece of trash.

On the floor, Sandra lay sprawled, half-naked, her body trembling as she clutched at her throat, gasping for air.

April dropped to her knees beside Sandra, her voice breaking as she reached out. "Sasa, what happened to you?..."

Without hesitation, Moya snatched a torn blanket from the floor and wrapped it around Sandra, shielding her from further humiliation. Then, without missing a beat, she turned to Yao's roommate, who stood frozen in the doorway, his face drained of color.

"What you shouldn't see, don't see. What you shouldn't hear, don't hear. What you shouldn't say, don't say." 🙈🙉🙊

The roommate swallowed hard, his face flushing in shame, and quickly stepped aside.

Meanwhile, Yao—once a proud, towering figure—was now curled up against the wall, his body convulsing under Arden's relentless kicks. He didn't fight back, didn't even lift a hand to defend himself. 

Arden paused, his chest heaving, his fury still simmering as he noticed the violent trembling wracking Yao's body.

Then, suddenly, the trembling morphed into maniacal laughter—low, unhinged, and grating against the tense silence of the room.

Yao raised his head, staring at Arden with a twisted grin, his eyes gleaming with mockery.

"So, you actually do care about her after all." he sneered, his voice dripping with spite.

Arden's fist crashed into Yao's jaw, the sickening crunch of bone and grinding teeth slicing through the tense air. Blood dribbled from the corner of Yao's mouth, but the twisted grin never wavered. That mocking, bloodstained smirk sent a searing rage straight through Arden's chest.

With a guttural growl, Arden swung again, his knuckles splitting Yao's lip, sending fresh crimson splattering onto the floor.

His vision blurred, anger clouding everything in a deep, suffocating red. The room, the voices, even the gasps of those watching—it all faded into the background.

April's tears stopped mid-flow, her face frozen in horror. Moya, shaking off her shock, lunged forward and grabbed Arden's arm.

"Arden, stop!" she shouted, panic lacing her voice. "You'll kill him!"

He shoved her aside without so much as a glance, his focus locked solely on Yao. He wasn't done yet. Not until that infuriating grin disappeared.

Fist after fist rained down with brutal precision. Yao's body jerked with each impact, yet he made no move to fight back. He only laughed—a hollow, broken sound that fueled Arden's fury even more.

Then, a pair of trembling hands latched onto him from behind. Sandra.

Her arms wrapped around his, her grip tight despite her weakened state. She twisted her body, locking his arms in a desperate attempt to stop him.

"Arden, stop!" she pleaded, her voice cracking, breath warm against his ear. "I'm fine! Please... Arden, stop..."

Her voice—strained, pleading—cut through the haze like a blade. His fist hovered mid-air, breath ragged, chest heaving. The violent storm inside him teetered on the edge.

Yao squinted through his swollen, bruised eyes. He watched, helpless, as Arden carried Sandra away in his arms, her head resting against his shoulder.

Every inch of Yao's body throbbed, but the physical agony was nothing compared to the hollow, crushing ache in his chest.

A single tear slid down his battered face, mingling with the blood at the corner of his mouth—a bitter, stinging reminder of everything he had lost.

It was the same old tale: the hero rescuing the damsel. But in this version, he was the villain.

He had loved her more than anyone.

And yet, he was the one who couldn't have her.

Downstairs, beside Arden's sleek A8, a police car idled with its lights flashing, casting eerie red and blue glows against the pavement. Two officers stood nearby, jotting down license plate numbers. At the sound of approaching footsteps, one of them instinctively reached for the stun gun at his waist, his gaze sharp and assessing.

Arden strode forward, Sandra cradled in his arms, his expression cold and unyielding. He stopped directly in front of them, his voice edged with steel. "Officer, I'd like to report an assault."

Sandra stiffened, her breath hitching. Panic flared in her eyes as she struggled in his grip, her voice breaking with urgency. "Arden, no. Don't do this. You'll ruin him."

Arden's jaw tightened, his eyes burning with barely contained rage as he looked down at her. His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, each word slow and seething.

"Stupid woman," he hissed. "Anyone who lays a hand on my woman is asking to die."

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Pineapple cake is a Taiwanese sweet traditional pastry and dessert containing butter, flour, egg, sugar, and pineapple jam or slices. I really love it.

If you like my story, please add it to your book list and remember to vote! Your support is my motivation!