Chapter 2
1486words
Sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting bright streaks across the pure white blanket. My hangover headache had dissipated, replaced by an empty calmness.
I picked up my phone. The moment the screen lit up, dozens of missed calls and message notifications poured out like a waterfall, nearly causing my phone to lag.
They were all from Alex.
I opened the texts. Each line rushed at me from the screen like desperate howls.
"Mia, I'm sorry, I love you, please answer the phone."
"It's all my fault, I shouldn't have been so foolish, Vincent forced me to do it!"
"You can't do this to me, was our three years together all a lie?"
"You're crazy! You've ruined me! You've ruined everything!"
The messages ranged from humble begging to angry cursing to hysterical accusations, vividly displaying his spiral into chaos.
Expressionless, I scrolled to the last message, sent just five minutes ago.
"Mia, I know your home address. I'm coming to find you now."
A chill crawled up my spine. The tone had shifted from desperation to something worse—a calm, reckless madness.
Emma walked in holding coffee, saw my pale face, and immediately set down the cup to look at my phone. "Is he threatening you?"
Her expression darkened instantly. Without hesitation, she pulled out her phone and dialed. "Hello, I need to file a police report. My friend, Mia, is receiving threats from her former fiancé..."
After hanging up, Emma shoved her car keys into my hand. "You can't be alone today. Go to my apartment. Don't go to your studio either—I'll stay with you."
"I have to go to the studio," I said. "I have several important design drafts due today."
Emma fixed me with a determined gaze. "Fine, then I'll go with you. Until the police handle this, I won't leave your side for a second."
At noon, while Emma and I were checking design details, the receptionist called, sounding tense: "Mia, your ex-... Mr. Alex is in the lobby, insisting on seeing you. We can't stop him."
I walked to the window and spotted Alex standing like a statue at the building entrance. He wore the same suit from yesterday—the one I'd thrown my veil at. His shirt was wrinkled, hair disheveled, eyes bloodshot. His entire being seemed drained of soul, leaving only a haggard empty shell.
"I'll go see him," I told Emma, my tone calm.
"I'll come with you," Emma said, immediately setting aside her documents.
We met in a corner of the coffee shop on the ground floor, separated by a cold glass table.
When Alex saw me, tears welled in his bloodshot eyes. He started to drop to his knees but froze mid-motion when I gave him a cold glance.
"Mia, I'm sorry, I was wrong!" His voice was hoarse, choked with tears, drawing curious glances from nearby tables. "I was confused! It was Vincent... he seduced me! He tempted me with a promotion. I don't love him at all! You're the one I love!"
I watched his performance quietly, like a critic observing a poorly acted monologue, feeling absolutely nothing inside.
"Please, please forgive me. Let's forget all this and start over, okay?" He reached for my hand, but I quickly pulled away.
I picked up the ice water, took a small sip, then set it down. The glass made a crisp sound against the table, cutting through his tearful plea. "Alex, it's over between us. Please leave."
My voice wasn't loud, but each word landed like an ice pick.
The sorrow on Alex's face froze instantly. He stared at me in disbelief, and after a few seconds, that pleading expression transformed into something grotesque.
His eyes turned sinister—a venomous snake lurking in darkness. "You ruined my life, Mia," he said through gritted teeth, pronouncing each word slowly. "I won't let you get away with this."
He stood abruptly, so violently that the water glass rattled. Then he stormed out of the café without looking back.
Emma took my cold hands and said softly, "Don't be afraid. He's just blowing hot air."
I shook my head, knowing clearly this was just the beginning.
Afternoon sunlight slanted into the studio, turning dust particles golden. A man in a well-tailored black suit and gold-rimmed glasses entered, led by an assistant.
He appeared to be in his thirties, with a refined demeanor but unusually sharp eyes.
"Miss Mia, hello." He introduced himself. "My name is Zhang, and I represent Mr. Vincent in legal matters."
He got straight to the point. Emma immediately stood alert by my side.
Mr. Zhang placed his briefcase on the table and spoke unhurriedly. "Mr. Vincent acknowledges the improper handling of the video played at the wedding caused you harm, and he expresses his deep apologies."
His words sounded polite, but his expression showed not the slightest hint of regret.
"However," he changed his tone, his gaze dissecting me like a surgical knife, "we both know that video is just the tip of the iceberg. The longer footage from the hotel room... the more intimate content. I presume you still have backup copies."
My heart sank.
He paused, leaned forward, stared into my eyes, and his tone turned icy: "Mr. Vincent has deep connections and resources in this city. If that content—particularly any audio recordings or more complete videos—continues to spread online, your design certification, your client relationships, and even—"
He deliberately emphasized, "—that charming Italian restaurant your parents operate in the suburbs might all 'experience some unexpected problems.'"
All the blood in my body froze instantly.
"Moreover, Miss Mia," Mr. Zhang's voice carried not a hint of emotion, "recording and distributing someone's private footage without permission is a serious violation of privacy laws. Should Mr. Vincent decide to sue, you'll face significant legal consequences."
He pulled a document from his briefcase and slid it toward me. "This is a draft agreement. Mr. Vincent doesn't want this matter to escalate—he has a family and children to protect."
"He's willing to pay compensation—five hundred thousand dollars," he stated without blinking, "to buy out all videos, recordings, photos, and all backups in your possession. You delete everything and sign this confidentiality agreement, and the matter ends here. This is best for everyone."
He placed a business card atop the agreement. "Here's my contact information. Please provide your answer by tomorrow evening. Mr. Vincent is a businessman who prefers to solve problems with money—it's the simplest solution for him."
He stood, giving me one final look, his gaze suggesting I was an ungrateful troublemaker.
"But if you choose to refuse, if you continue exposing more content... he has other methods too." He walked to the door, then turned back to add one final sentence, his voice soft yet hitting my heart like a sledgehammer.
"By the way, I heard your parents' restaurant 'barely passed' the health inspection last month. No one can guarantee the next inspection won't 'discover' some serious violations, right?"
The door closed, leaving the studio in dead silence.
Emma spoke beside me, her voice filled with suppressed anger: "Classic carrot and stick. That video already makes denial impossible, so now he's damage control mode. He's terrified you have more ammunition—recordings proving he initiated everything, or more explicit footage. If those get out, his marriage and social status are toast."
I felt all strength drain from my body as I slumped against the chair, my hands trembling uncontrollably.
An unprecedented fear enveloped me like a suffocating net. I thought I'd won, but that was just the opening salvo. I wasn't facing a desperate Alex anymore, but a calm, powerful, and utterly ruthless opponent.
Emma held me tightly, her embrace warm but unable to dispel the chill in my heart. "Don't be afraid, Mia. The more they threaten you, the more it proves you've hit their weak spot. What you have must be lethal to them."
Tears finally fell uncontrollably as I grabbed Emma's arm, my voice trembling: "Emma, I'm scared... I just wanted to expose Alex, that bastard. I can't fight Vincent... He has money and power—in this city, he could crush me without breaking a sweat, destroy my parents' restaurant..."
"Listen!" Emma gripped my face, forcing me to look into her eyes as she wiped away my tears. "We cannot back down. If we take the money now, they'll see us as easy targets and become even more arrogant! You'll be under their thumb forever!"
She took a deep breath, her eyes gleaming with cold determination.
"Besides, have you forgotten? Vincent has a weakness too."
"His weakness is his wife, Diane." She leaned close to my ear and whispered deliberately: "I have a way to contact Diane. Trust me—a wife who's been deceived by her husband and his male lover, whose family fortune is being used as a stepping stone? She'll be our most powerful ally."
