Chapter 3

"Gentler..." he murmured those three words again. She nodded in confirmation, but he just smiled, a smile so beguiling yet with a hint of coldness in his eyes. "Apologies, I am not capable..."

As his words fell, he gazed at her shoulders, then leaned in to sniff near her. "Very well, finally devoid of that dreadful scent of perfume..."

Discomfort surged within her, urging her to cry out, yet she feared provoking him and held her tongue. She did not understand his unpredictable nature, his alternating between warmth and coldness, between sanity and madness. The upper echelons of society were beyond her grasp, their thoughts and habits incomprehensible. Nevertheless, she knew she must not anger him, for she had missed her chance to leave. Now, he was her only hope to save her brother!

As for what would happen next, she knew, so she lay there obediently, allowing him to scrutinize her.

But she, inexperienced in matters of romance, had only gleaned fragments from books and vague scenes from movies. Reality, however, shattered her illusions.

In an instant, she felt a slight clarity, realizing her terrible tolerance for alcohol had already begun to cloud her mind from that single sip. She couldn't understand why, at this moment, his gaze was so cold, as though he were an outsider observing her intoxicated state.

Confusion and a sense of inequality furrowed her brow involuntarily. At that moment, he moved slightly away. She tensed, even holding her breath. But just when she thought she couldn't bear another second of tension, he raised an eyebrow, staring at the faint purple marks on her crucial spots, a mix of amusement and irritation in his expression. "You're wearing it again?"

Brianna Diaz nervously bit her lip, unsure of what to say. She had considered telling him otherwise, but found herself speechless. She lacked the courage to step out of the bathroom...

"Damp, aren't you uncomfortable?"

"N-no, not at all," she replied, her face reddening, closing her eyes nervously.

"How much is he paying you?" he asked her at this moment.

"Three hundred thousand..." Nervousness made her even more dizzy. It felt as if she were awaiting sentencing. But then he chuckled lightly, exuding an air of royalty. Yet he did not provide her with the pain of liberation. He merely observed her like a mocking master, sensing her every breath in disarray...

Raising an eyebrow, he pressed a button on the bedside, and the circular curtains by the floor-to-ceiling window began to close automatically. As they sealed shut, a dissatisfied grumble echoed from the dark room across the neon lights outside: "Damn it!"

...

With a splitting headache and a sense of discomfort, Brianna Diaz clutched the blanket tightly, keeping her eyes shut.

Just a minute ago, she had awakened, yet she dared not face what had transpired last night. She couldn't remember, though it was just a sip of red wine, it was terrifying for her, for even the slightest alcohol left her intoxicated.

"Beep beep..." Suddenly, her phone rang. Brianna Diaz couldn't pretend to be asleep, hastily crawling to the side of the sofa to retrieve her small backpack and answer the call, silencing the alarm.

She hugged her numb body, curled up with her phone, feeling extremely embarrassed as she glanced back. She didn't know if he would be displeased, but in the next second—no one was there!

She got up hastily, finding no one on the bed!

She blinked, immediately feeling much relieved. Then she glanced around the room, confirming she was alone, before climbing back into bed and hastily pulling the covers over herself.

He had left...

Those three words echoed in her mind, leaving her unsure if she felt lost or liberated.

Rubbing her head, she remembered something. Hastily lifting the covers, she saw the bloodstains on the bed...

Staring blankly at the crimson stains, she reached out to touch them, tears streaming down her face.

"Why cry? This was your choice, and at least the other person was exceptional, wasn't he?" She wiped her tears, then remembered the compensation he had promised. Quickly standing up, she glanced around, noticing the paper and pen on the table this time. She approached and saw a check and a business card, his. Beautifully written in ink were the words: "Your Compensation."

Compensation...

She bit her lip, picking up the check and looking at the figure, feeling confused.

"One million?"

She ran her hand through her hair, then picked up the business card again. After hesitating for a while, she picked up her phone and texted the number on it: "It's thirty thousand, you've given too much."

A minute later, a reply came: "I thought I made it clear, just take it all!"

Brianna Diaz stared at the message, reading it three times before replying: "Well, thank you. You're a good person!"

...

Staring at the words on his phone, Thomas Moore was taken aback. Was "good person" a compliment or an insult?

He sighed, pocketed his phone, and picked up the high-powered binoculars in front of him, peering into the distance. Through the lens, the curtains in the opposite room were still drawn.

A slight smirk played on his lips as he dropped the binoculars, took a few steps back, and opened the gas valve, then turned and left. Inside the room lay two bodies, serene in appearance.