1
Molly's POV
"Pay up!"
I didn't scream when they surrounded me, which surprised even me. The five men formed a wall of flesh with their shoulders and arms, and the one in front grabbed me by the collar. His hand was huge—big enough to lift me onto my tiptoes without effort.
"Your old man's dead, so the debt passes to you." His tone was casual, like he was discussing the weather. "So. How are you planning to settle this?"
The sunlight outside the school gate was harsh. I could feel the stares—countless eyes, stabbing at me from every direction. My classmates had formed a ring around us, phones out. Someone was recording.
"Her family used to be loaded."
I heard someone murmur.
"Tsk, the rich girl's fallen on hard times!" Another voice, dripping with contempt.
"I heard after her family went bankrupt her dad jumped off a building. So now she's inheriting daddy's debts?"
"Her dad's dead, her mom had a breakdown and went into the ICU. Poor thing."
My vision blurred for a moment. A week before he died, my father was still working in his study. He never told me about the bankruptcy. I found out from a police phone call—he'd jumped from the twenty-third floor of his office building.
"Listen to me," I said, shoving the man gripping my collar away, keeping my voice as level as I could. "I'll make fixed payments every month until it's paid off."
The man—White—released me, but his eyes crawled over me, head to toe, toe to head. That gaze was filthy. I could feel it creeping over my skin like insects.
"Your old man said the same thing. And what happened?" He sneered. "He up and died! Why should we believe you?"
One of the men behind him licked his lips. "White, she's got a nice figure. Send her to the Nightfall Bar—she'd do good business there!"
My heart slammed into my throat.
"That's a good idea," White said. "Take her."
They surged forward. My arms were seized, gripped hard enough that I felt nails digging into my skin. I started struggling, twisting around to look at the classmates watching.
"Call the police for me," I heard myself say. "This is unlawful detention."
No one moved.
Some of them I knew. We'd sat in the same classroom together. A few tried to step closer, but White's men blocked them immediately. Others simply raised their phones and started snapping pictures of my face.
"The ice queen's fall from grace, haha!" Someone laughed out loud. "She used to act so aloof and proud. Look at her now."
"Used to be I couldn't afford her. Now that she's a bar girl, can't afford her either?" Another person turned to White. "How much per night are you planning to charge?"
White chuckled. It was a low sound, like something rotting. He reached out and lifted my chin with his fingertip, his nail nearly piercing my skin.
"Looks like you won't lack for business," he said. "This deal's a bargain."
"Let go!" I struggled.
Then, through the crowd, I spotted a familiar figure. My best friend, Luna.
"Luna, help me! Call the police!" I shouted.
I saw Luna walking toward us, and hope flared in my chest. "Luna, please help me."
But White pulled Luna over, draping his arm across her shoulders with a mocking smile. "Thanks to your dear friend here tipping me off, I knew just where to catch you."
He pulled out a wad of cash and stuffed it into Luna's hand. "The payment we agreed on. I'm a man of my word."
Luna took the money and said quietly, "Thank you."
"Luna!" I couldn't process what I was seeing. "You sold me out? Why?"
"I helped you plenty before, didn't I? Your mom's hospital bills—my money. Your brother's gambling debts—my money. Your tuition—my money too! Even the clothes on your back, I bought them! Why?!"
Luna lifted her head and looked at me.
I saw disgust and hatred in her eyes.
I didn't understand. The pain made it hard to breathe.
Luna tucked the money away, her voice cold. "I used to prop you up because you brought me benefits. But that's different now—you've got nothing left. Selling you out earns me one last payout. That's your value to me now."
She turned and walked away, decisive, without a backward glance.
A memory flashed through my mind—Luna running up to me in tears, saying her brother owed loan sharks from gambling, that if they couldn't pay he'd get his hands chopped off. I'd paid it off without a second thought. She'd thanked me endlessly, called me her best friend for life...
I let out a bitter laugh. It was absurd. Utterly absurd.
"No one's coming to save you," White said impatiently. "Stop wasting my time."
They dragged me toward the car, and I started fighting. I don't know where the strength came from, but I knew I couldn't get in that car. Once I was in, it was over.
The slap was crisp. Crack!
My head snapped to one side, ears ringing. Another slap—the other cheek this time. I could taste blood.
"Not the face. How are we supposed to sell her if you damage it?" White stopped him.
"Boss, this woman fights too much. If we don't teach her a lesson, she won't behave."
White grabbed my collar and brought his face close to mine. "Keep fighting and I'll strip you naked right here and let them have you in front of everyone. Do you believe me?"
I bit down and stared at him. My face felt like it was burning, swelling visibly.
They hauled me toward the car. My toes scraped along the ground; one shoe fell off. I wanted to scream for help, but only broken sounds came from my throat.
That was when a figure pushed through the crowd.
He was tall, wearing a sharp dark gray suit, a few strands of dark hair falling over his forehead. His eye sockets were deep-set, his gaze cold as a cold front. He shoved aside the men surrounding me, and I felt myself pulled backward, my whole body pressed against something warm.
"Who the hell are you?" White roared. "Do you know who we are? You dare stick your nose in this?"
He spoke in a flat, even tone. "I was passing by and saw you bullying a student. As a qualified teacher, I think it's entirely reasonable for me to intervene."
White's face darkened. He made a move to strike, and the man raised his phone.
"I've already called the police," he said. "If this blows up, it won't do you any good."
White stared at him for a few seconds, then sneered.
"Lucky day for you." He turned to me and tapped his fingertip against my chest. "But the papers still need signing, Jasmine."
He pulled a contract from his bag, the pages stained with grime. I opened it, flipping through each page with trembling fingers. Repayment schedule, repayment amount, consequences for default—the consequences column was explicit.
In the event of default, the creditor reserves the right to take all necessary measures to recover the debt, including but not limited to physical coercion and seizure of assets.
I signed my name. As the pen tip moved across the paper, I felt my whole body sink, as if something were pressing down on me.
"Miss Jasmine," White said, putting on a polite tone, "if you don't make your payments on time each month, I'll be coming to find you again."
They dispersed. Phone sounds, whispers, laughter—it all merged into a wave that swallowed me.
I turned to thank the man who'd helped me, but he was already gone. Only my classmates remained by the school gate, some watching the video on their phones with excited expressions, like they'd just watched a show.
I stood there alone, hollowed out by a helplessness I'd never known before.
Joyce. The name surfaced in my mind.
Right—I still had Joyce. My fiancé. He could help me through this!
I took a taxi to Joyce's house.
"Miss, you can't go in."
I walked straight ahead but was stopped by the security guard.
I'd always walked right in before. It was the same guard as always, but the outcome was different.
I looked at him and demanded, "Why are you stopping me?"
"Mr. Joyce gave orders. From now on, you're not to be let in."
I clenched my fists. "On what grounds? I'm his fiancée!"
"Not anymore."
I turned toward the voice and saw Joyce approaching, his arm around another woman.
Joyce glanced at me with arrogant disdain. "Jasmine, you still think you're the heiress you used to be? Let me tell you—as of today, our engagement is officially off."
