He Proposed with a Stolen Diamond

On my 25th birthday, my perfect boyfriend of three years knelt before me, holding up a magnificent diamond ring, a real showstopper.

Friends and family cheered, and my parents' eyes welled up with tears.

Just as I was about to nod, tears blurring my vision, a blood-red virtual panel suddenly materialized before my eyes:

"Warning! Target subject detected carrying HIV and secondary syphilis!"

"Danger! This diamond ring is stolen property! The owner's armed enforcers will arrive in three minutes!"

I looked at my deeply affectionate boyfriend, then at his shirt cuffs, always tightly buttoned to hide rashes. My outstretched hand froze in mid-air.

No wonder he'd never initiated any real intimacy with me these past three years, always giving some romantic excuse about wanting to wait until our wedding night, wanting it to be truly special.

At the same time, a countdown blared in my mind:

"High alert! Enforcers' arrival countdown: three minutes."

I smiled, took the ring, and slipped it onto my finger. Then, I turned and double-locked the front door, engaging three additional deadbolts.

"Sorry, but this game of trapping the rat? It's just getting started."

"Summer, marry me. I'll dedicate my life to protecting you, to making you the happiest woman in the world."

My boyfriend, Brandon Reed, knelt on the rose-petal-strewn floor, pulling a delicate velvet box from his custom-made suit pocket.

The box slowly opened, revealing a magnificent diamond ring that sparkled dazzlingly under the living room's crystal chandelier.

Today was my twenty-fifth birthday.

It was supposed to be just a casual family dinner. My mom had cooked a huge spread of all my favorite dishes, and my dad had opened a bottle of wine he'd been saving for years.

Who would have thought that Brandon had secretly planned such a romantic proposal?

My mom gasped, covering her mouth, tears welling in her eyes, constantly nudging my dad with her elbow. My dad put down his wine glass; though he tried to hide it, his slightly trembling hands betrayed his excitement.

I felt a little dazed, as if I were dreaming.

Brandon and I had met at a friend's party.

We'd been together for three whole years, and he'd been incredibly attentive.

His never-missed, homemade breakfasts every morning, the umbrella always appearing promptly at my office building on rainy days, the warming ginger tea he'd brew for me during my period...

Aside from his ordinary background and frequent business trips, he was an absolutely flawless, perfect partner.

My parents, though they cared deeply for me, weren't materialistic people.

They often said that as long as a guy was a good person, hardworking, and treated me well, it didn't matter if he was a bit poor; we could build a life together.

I had always believed I'd found my destined happiness.

A wave of emotion washed over me, blurring my vision with tears. I took a deep breath, ready to reach out and accept the ring, a symbol of a lifelong commitment.

Just then, something unexpected happened.

A blinding red light flashed across my retina, followed by a translucent, blood-red virtual panel that floated in the air above Brandon's head.

"Don't touch it, you fool! That ring? He stole it from a wealthy woman! And her enforcers are on their way, knives out!"

"This lowlife has secondary syphilis and a preliminary HIV positive! And he's still trying to trick you into marriage, planning to turn an honest person into his free nurse and a cleanup crew for his mess!"

"Look at his right cuff! Always buttoned tight, just to hide his syphilis rashes!"

"Summer Hayes, run! You have three minutes until the rich woman's enforcers break down your door!"

"This guy's just a high-class kept man, a male escort who preys on wealthy women. Now that he's been caught red-handed, he's trying to leave the stolen goods at your house to frame your family!"

My outstretched hand froze in mid-air, my fingertips barely an inch from that diamond.

I blinked hard, even secretly pinching my thigh, wondering if I was hallucinating from too much overtime work recently.

But the blood-red panel didn't vanish. Instead, it went wild, frantically scrolling with a dense stream of pop-up messages, each word like a sharp knife, plunging into my eyes.

How could this be?

Brandon was still looking at me with deep affection, his captivating eyes, usually filled with a gentle smile, now alight with expectation.

His hand, holding the ring, trembled slightly, as if nervous about my hesitation.

"Summer? What's wrong? Are you just too excited to react?" he murmured my name, his voice like velvet.

I didn't speak. After a momentary mental freeze, my brain started working furiously.

My gaze instinctively dropped to his wrist.

In the three years I'd known him, whether it was summer or winter, Brandon always wore long-sleeved shirts, and his cuff buttons were always fastened tightly.

I'd once asked him why he never wore short sleeves, and he'd laughed, saying he had childhood burn scars on his arm that he found ugly and didn't want to scare me.

I'd even felt pity for his sensitivity and insecurity.

Now, thinking back, for all his kindness and thoughtfulness, our most intimate gestures had only ever gone as far as holding hands and hugging.

Every time I tried to take things further, he would always put me off with various grand excuses, saying he wanted "to save the best for our wedding night," or "I cherish you too much to be hasty."

I'd thought it was his respect and care for me, a rare purity in this superficial world.

But if what the pop-up messages said was true...

"Summer, hurry up and say yes! Don't let Brandon kneel too long, the floor's cold," my mom urged from the side, breaking the silence in the living room.

I ignored my mom's urging and didn't reach for the ring.

Driven by an inexplicable impulse, I reached out and grabbed Brandon's right wrist.

With all my strength, I yanked his sleeve upwards.

"Rip!" The cuff button burst open from the force, clattering softly on the wooden floor.

Brandon's face contorted, a flicker of panic in his eyes. He instinctively tried to pull his hand back.

But I, with a strength I didn't know I possessed, clamped onto his wrist, refusing to let him go even an inch.

His sleeve was completely pulled up, revealing his arm, which should have been clean.

However, on the inner skin of his wrist, there were several coppery-red, scaly rashes!

In that instant, my blood ran cold, and a high-pitched ringing filled my ears.

The pop-up messages were true!

He really had syphilis! He really was a liar!

Three years of tenderness, thoughtfulness, and heartfelt vows, all a meticulously planned deception!

Brandon's affectionate expression instantly froze when I forcibly pulled up his sleeve and saw the rashes on his wrist. It was replaced by unconcealed horror.

He violently yanked his hand away from mine, frantically pulling his sleeve back down to cover the disgusting spots, and then stood up from the floor.

Just at this suffocatingly awkward moment, the cell phone on the coffee table vibrated like a death knell.

Brandon's eyes flickered to the caller ID on the screen. His face, which had been flushed from the proposal, instantly drained of all color, turning ashen white.

He didn't even bother to put the priceless diamond ring on my finger. He fumbled, stuffing the velvet box into his coat pocket, grabbing his phone, and heading for the door.

"I'm so sorry, something urgent just came up at the company. A multi-million dollar project has a major glitch, and my boss needs me back right away!"

His words came out in a rapid, trembling rush. He didn't even dare to look at me as he turned and charged towards the front door.

Meanwhile, the virtual panel before my eyes flashed again, displaying a glaring red countdown:

"Alert! Victoria Sterling's gang enforcers are 2 minutes and 50 seconds from arrival!"

"Don't let him leave! If he runs, your whole family will be in danger!"

"He plans to leave the stolen goods at your house and make your family of three the scapegoats!"

Shock, anger, and fear intertwined, making my whole body tremble uncontrollably.

But my remaining sanity screamed a warning: I absolutely could not let him just walk away!

If the pop-up warning was true, the impending danger was something my family of three could never handle.

Just as Brandon's hand was about to touch the doorknob, I lunged forward like a frantic lioness, grabbing hold of the back of his coat.

"You're not leaving!" I shrieked, my voice shrill and piercing with extreme fear and fury.

Brandon stumbled, thrown off balance by my grip. He turned back, forcing a smile that looked worse than a grimace.

"Summer, don't mess around. This is a truly urgent work matter, a multi-million dollar project. If I mess it up, I'll be fired. Be good, I'll come right back to celebrate your birthday after I handle it."

"What project? Where are you going? Where did that diamond ring really come from? What are those red rashes on your wrist?!"

I rattled off a string of questions, each hitting a vital point.

My parents were utterly stunned by the sudden turn of events.

They didn't understand how a romantic proposal could, in the next second, turn into a tense standoff.

"Summer, what are you doing? How can you talk to Brandon like that? A man's career is important, work comes first, let him go," my dad said, frowning, as he came over to try and pull me away.

Seeing that my parents were still in the dark and on his side, Brandon immediately put on a wronged, helpless expression: "Mr. Hayes, this is truly a matter of life and death, I really have to go..."

As he spoke, he secretly gritted his teeth, reaching out his left hand to try and pry my fingers, one by one, from his coat. He was strong, and my finger bones ached.

"You're not leaving! You have to explain yourself today!"

I bit down hard, my fingernails digging into the back of his hand. No matter how hard he pulled, I wouldn't let go.

The pop-up messages on the screen were still furiously refreshing, the countdown like the Grim Reaper's footsteps, drawing closer with every beat:

"Two minutes left!"

"Watch out! He's trying to stuff the ring box into the gap in your shoe rack by the front door!"

"Summer Hayes, hold onto him! Don't let him run!"

Following the pop-up's warning, I saw Brandon's right hand furtively reaching towards the shoe rack, seemingly trying to drop something unnoticed.

I immediately blocked the shoe rack with my body, completely thwarting his plan.

Brandon looked at the tightly locked front door, then at the wall clock. Cold sweat poured down his forehead like disconnected beads.

The layers of tenderness and pretense in his eyes completely tore away, revealing his vicious, agitated true face underneath.

"Summer Hayes, I'm warning you, let go of me right now!"

He hissed, lowering his voice, like a poisonous snake cornered, grinding the words out in my ear.

"I won't! Unless you call the police right now and let them handle your 'emergency'!" I glared back at him, refusing to back down.

"Call the police? Are you insane?!"

Hearing the words "call the police," Brandon reacted like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, instantly exploding.

But his eyes darted around, and he immediately changed tactics. His legs went weak, and he actually dropped to his knees in front of my parents, switching to a heart-wrenching sob:

"I'm so sorry! It's not about work at all... it's my dad!"

Crying, he pounded his chest: "My dad just had a sudden heart attack and was rushed to the hospital! The hospital has issued a critical condition notice; the doctors say he might not make it through the night!"

"I was afraid Summer would worry, afraid of ruining her birthday, so I didn't dare to tell the truth earlier. Please, let me go! If I'm a minute late, I might not see my dad one last time!"

As he spoke, he crumpled to the floor.

I watched his Oscar-worthy performance coldly, feeling nothing but a wave of nausea.

But for my kind, honest parents, a dying parent at a birthday dinner was an absolute catastrophe.

Sure enough, my mom burst into tears, her heart aching, and quickly tried to help him up: "Oh, you silly boy, why didn't you say something sooner about such a big matter! Who cares about a birthday now!"

My dad also panicked, rushing over to forcefully pry my hands away: "Summer! Let go! How can you be so insensitive! This is a matter of filial duty, a life-and-death situation, not a second can be wasted!"

"Brandon, hurry! Do you have enough money? The hospital needs a deposit for emergency treatment, I'll get you some!" My dad even fumbled for his phone in a rush.

At that moment, in the entire living room, I felt like the only one who was clear-headed. Because before my eyes, on that blood-red panel, the pop-up messages were scrolling at an even more frantic pace:

"He's lying! His dad died ages ago, his ashes were scattered!"

"He's just trying to use your sympathy, use your family as a shield, so he can sneak away!"

"The enforcers are upstairs! One minute left!"

"Summer Hayes, don't believe him! The moment he steps out that door, your whole family will be scapegoats, and those gangsters will beat you all to death!"

If those enforcers were as vicious and cold-blooded as the pop-up messages said, and Brandon ran, my parents and I, old, weak, and injured, would be like fish on a cutting board, to be slaughtered at will.

"He's lying! Dad! Mom! Don't believe him!"

I shrieked, clinging to Brandon's waist like a limpet, using my full weight to pull him down.

"Get out your phone! Call your relatives! Or call the hospital's nursing station directly! I want to hear!"

"Call now! Put it on speaker! As soon as the call connects and proves your dad is really in critical condition, I'll let you go immediately!"

I cried, tears and snot streaming down my face, completely losing all composure, but I didn't care anymore.

Brandon, entangled by my desperate struggle, couldn't move an inch. He glanced at the wall clock; with every tick of the second hand, his face grew paler, and his eyes became more frantic.

"Get lost! You crazy woman!"

He finally completely dropped his pretense, suddenly spun around, grabbed my hair, and with his other hand, seized my left index finger, bending it sharply backward.

A chilling crack echoed.

Excruciating pain, like an electric current, instantly shot through my entire body, piercing to my very core.

My index finger was brutally broken!

"Ah!"

I screamed. The pain, ten times worse than any other, instantly sapped all my strength, and my hands involuntarily let go of his clothes.

Brandon seized the chance, shoving me hard in the chest.

"If you want to die, die alone! Don't drag me down with you!"

He pushed with all his might.

I lost my balance, stumbling backward like a kite with a snapped string, my back slamming heavily against the front door.

But instinctively, I grabbed the doorknob with my hand, enduring the searing pain, and fiercely engaged the last deadbolt.

"Summer!" My mom shrieked in horror, rushing over to help me.

My dad was also utterly stunned by Brandon's sudden violence. The phone he was holding clattered to the floor.

"Brandon! You animal! What are you doing! How dare you hit my daughter!" My dad's eyes widened, and he roared, trying to rush forward and fight him.

But Brandon completely ignored my dad. He frantically tried to twist the doorknob, only to find the door was locked tight.

Just then, a dull thud came from outside the door, followed by the grating scrape of a metal baseball bat dragging against the wall.

The sound echoed in the silent hallway, like a death knell.

Then, a rough, menacing voice with a heavy accent sounded from outside the door, seeping through the thin metal:

"Brandon, open the door. I know you're in there."

"Hiding behind a woman's skirt? What kind of man are you? Weren't you running pretty fast a minute ago? Why stop now?"

The moment Brandon heard that voice, he looked like his spine had been removed, his legs instantly going weak with terror.

His earlier arrogance, the one that had just hit me and broken my finger, vanished completely. He slumped to the floor like a rag doll, his face ashen white, trembling like a leaf.

"You... you bitch..."

He stammered, his ashen lips cursing me in a low voice.

"It's all your fault... if it weren't for you, you crazy woman, stopping me, I would've gotten away..."

"You ruined everything for me... if I get caught, I'll haunt you even in death..."

I leaned against the cold front door, cradling my index finger, which was already completely deformed and swollen like a carrot. I sucked in ragged breaths, enduring the agonizing pain.

Looking at this man, who just half an hour ago was in a suit and tie, kneeling and proposing to me, spouting sweet nothings, now collapsed on the floor like a stray dog, cursing me.

My stomach churned with revulsion.

Soon, the sound of the baseball bat hitting the wall outside stopped.

On the virtual panel before my eyes, the frantically scrolling pop-up messages suddenly all disappeared, replaced by a deadly silence of stark white:

"They're here."

"Summer Hayes, cover your head, protect your parents."

The next second.

Boom!

A deafening crash.

The front door was brutally kicked from the outside with terrifying force. The entire wall vibrated violently, and dust sifted down from the ceiling.

I was thrown back from the door by the immense impact, slamming heavily onto the living room floor.

Boom!

Another earth-shattering crash.

The old apartment building's front door, under the violent assault of these professional enforcers, proved incredibly fragile.

With a grating sound of tearing metal, the lock mechanism completely gave way. The heavy iron door burst open, slamming violently into the entrance wall, even creating a deep dent.

In a cloud of dust, several men, clad in black leather jackets and wielding steel baseball bats, stormed in menacingly.

Each was burly, with scarred faces, hideous tattoos on their necks and arms, and eyes that held unconcealed brutality and savagery.

"Ah!" My mom shrieked in terror, utterly terrified, instinctively shrinking into the furthest corner of the sofa, trembling uncontrollably.

My dad, though his face was pale and his legs shook, gritted his teeth, spread his arms, and fiercely shielded my mom and me. He stood like a fragile yet unyielding mountain.

"Who are you?! This is trespassing! If you don't leave now, I... I'll call the police!" My dad's voice, though trembling, still held a stubborn edge.

"Call the police?"

A lazy, contemptuous, slightly hoarse female voice drifted from outside the door.

Then, a woman in an expensive mink coat, click-clacking in high heels, leisurely walked in.

She looked to be in her late forties, well-preserved, with exquisite heavy makeup, and a slender cigarette held between her fingers. Her gaze, directed at our family, was like looking at insignificant ants.

This was the wealthy woman mentioned in the pop-up messages: Victoria.

She didn't even glance at my dad, her eyes locking directly onto Brandon, who was sprawled on the floor.

"Well, Brandon, running, are we? Why aren't you still running?" Victoria exhaled a puff of smoke, her tone chillingly calm. "Secretly embezzling funds from my company to gamble in Macau, using my black card to buy diamond rings, and even daring to infect me with that filthy disease..."

"Your guts are really getting bigger and bigger, aren't they?"

Hearing Victoria's words, Brandon trembled violently, as if he'd been electrocuted.

He scrambled, trying to cling to Victoria's leg, but was brutally kicked in the chest by one of the black-clad enforcers nearby, sending him tumbling several feet.

"Ms. Sterling! Boss Victoria! I was wrong! I truly know I was wrong!"

Ignoring the pain in his chest, Brandon scrambled up again, kneeling on the floor, frantically kowtowing like a pestle. His forehead quickly broke open, blood streaming down.

"The ring... yes! The ring is here! I didn't touch it! I'll give it all back to you! Undamaged, just as you gave it to me!"

He frantically pulled the velvet box, which he'd planned to propose with, from his coat pocket, holding it up high as if making an offering.

A bodyguard behind Victoria stepped forward, took the box, glanced inside, and nodded at her.

Victoria scoffed, not even glancing at the priceless diamond ring.

"The ring is a small matter. What about the money? The five million dollars in company funds?"

"The money... the money..."

Brandon's eyes darted wildly, cold sweat dripping onto the floor. Suddenly, as if grasping at a last straw, he spun around, his finger pointing accusingly at me.

"The money's all with her! It was her! This dirty woman seduced me!"

Brandon shrieked hysterically, his face distorted, as if I were his sworn enemy.

"Ms. Sterling, please believe me! I was tricked by her! This woman pretends to be an ordinary office worker, but she's actually a madam, setting up schemes!"

"She forced me to steal your money! She said if I didn't get money for her, she'd find someone to expose my relationship with you, post your photos online, and ruin your reputation!"

"I was only trying to protect your reputation, I was confused for a moment, and she got a hold of me!"

I stared, wide-eyed in disbelief, at this man spewing such vile lies.

The ugliness of human nature was on full display in that moment. To save his own skin, he could, without hesitation, pour all the blame onto a woman he had just been proposing to.

"You're talking nonsense! You're full of it!"

My dad trembled with rage, his eyes red, pointing at Brandon and cursing him: "Brandon! You utterly disgusting animal! When did our family ever ask you for a single penny?! Do you dare swear to God?!"

"Old man, do you have any right to speak here?"

The closest enforcer sneered, delivering a powerful backhand slap squarely across my dad's face.

Smack!

With a sharp crack, my dad was sent flying sideways, crashing heavily into the coffee table. Blood immediately welled from the corner of his mouth, and one side of his face visibly swelled.

"John!" My mom shrieked, rushing to him.

"Dad!"

My eyes burned with fury, and I shrieked, trying to rush at the enforcer to fight him, but another enforcer lifted his foot and brutally kicked me in the stomach.

The immense force instantly knocked the breath out of me. I curled up on the floor in agony, like a cooked shrimp, stomach acid churning.

Victoria watched all of this unfold with a cold indifference, not even a flicker of emotion in her eyes.

"I don't care who tricked who, or who seduced who. All I know is my money is gone, and today, I want blood."

She flicked ash from her cigarette, her tone as casual as discussing what to have for dinner.

"Break one of his hands first. Let him learn his lesson."

Two fierce enforcers immediately stepped forward, one on each side, seizing Brandon and forcibly straightening his right arm, laying it flat on the floor.

Another raised his steel baseball bat.

"No! No, please! Ms. Sterling, have mercy!"

Brandon let out a pig-like shriek, struggling desperately.

The strength humans can summon in extreme terror is astonishing. Suddenly, with newfound force, he broke free from one of the enforcers.

But he didn't run for the door, because there were even more enforcers outside.

He spun around, like a wild beast, charging directly at me, still recovering on the floor.

Before I could react, a thick arm clamped around my neck, pulling me up from the floor.

Then, a cold, metallic sensation pressed against my carotid artery.

It was a sharp fruit knife, one my mom had used to cut fruit and left on the coffee table.

"Don't come any closer! Nobody move!"

Brandon, hiding behind me, trembled violently, but the blade pressed relentlessly into the soft flesh of my neck.

"If anyone comes closer, I'll kill her!"

"Ms. Sterling! Let me go! Or I'll kill her! This is a life! There will be consequences for murder!"

"If someone dies, none of you will get away with it today!"

The sharp blade sliced through the delicate skin of my neck. Warm, metallic-smelling liquid instantly welled up, flowing down my neck and soaking into my white sweater, staining a large patch red.

Looking at the room full of thugs, feeling the madness and malice of the man behind me, I even forgot to blink, my mind a blank.

The pop-up messages on the virtual panel reappeared, filled with infinite sorrow:

"This is human nature. Faced with death, he's worse than an animal."

"Summer Hayes, don't be afraid, don't move. Stay alive, and you can slowly make him pay later."

"This man truly deserves a thousand cuts! To hell with him!"

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down.

"Brandon, even if you kill me today, you won't escape. You'll get what's coming to you," I said, gritting my teeth, each word distinct.

"Shut up! Just shut up!" Brandon shrieked hysterically in my ear, spit spraying onto my face. "If anyone's dying, it's you first! We'll go to hell together!"

"A life?"

Hearing Brandon's threat, Victoria didn't show fear. Instead, she let out a light laugh, as if she'd heard the funniest joke.

She took a step forward in her high heels, her eyes filled with amusement and mockery.

"Oh, Brandon, have you misunderstood something? What does this woman's life have to do with me, Victoria?"

"If you want to kill her, go ahead. Do it quickly. Once you're done, I'll save the police the trouble of catching a murderer and perhaps even get a commendation for civic bravery."

With that, she casually waved her hand.

The surrounding enforcers immediately understood. Instead of backing away, they raised their baseball bats, grinning menacingly, and slowly advanced towards us.

At this point, Brandon was completely flustered. He had thought he could use my life to threaten Victoria, but he hadn't expected this woman to be even more cold-blooded than he imagined.

"Don't come any closer! Don't force me! I really will do it!"

Brandon's hand trembled even more violently, the sharp blade uncontrollably scraping back and forth on my neck, opening a deeper wound.

More blood flowed, dripping onto the floor, a horrifying sight.

Seeing the enforcers closing in to within two meters, Brandon let out a desperate, frantic howl.

He suddenly released his left hand from my neck, then with all his might, shoved me hard in the back with both hands.

"Die! Block them for me!"

The immense push sent me flying like a cannonball.

What awaited me was not the enforcers catching me in their arms.

It was the heavy marble coffee table in the center of the living room.

In mid-air, time seemed to stretch endlessly.

I saw my parents' mouths agape in extreme terror, yet heard no sound from them; I saw the cold, evasive eyes of the enforcers; and I saw Brandon's back as he scurried towards the door like a rat.

Thump!

A dull thud.

My forehead struck the sharpest edge of the marble coffee table with precise, heavy impact.

Excruciating pain instantly swallowed my consciousness.

I collapsed heavily into a pool of blood, my body convulsing uncontrollably from nerve spasms. Warm blood gushed from my forehead, covering my eyes, turning my vision blood-red.

Before consciousness completely plunged into darkness, I heard the sound of enforcers swarming.

Brandon didn't even get a few steps before several baseball bats slammed into his hamstrings. He shrieked and fell to the ground.

Then came the chilling sounds of beating: the dull thuds of fists on flesh, the crisp snap of bones, and Brandon's heart-wrenching, inhuman screams.

"Ms. Sterling! Have mercy! Ms. Sterling! I was wrong!"

"I'm a dog! I'm just a dog you raised! Stop hitting me! Please, stop hitting me! You'll kill me!"

The one-sided beating continued for several minutes. Brandon was beaten bloody and bruised, his face swollen, his ribs God knows how many broken. He lay on the floor like a rag doll.

Then, a disgusting scene unfolded.

To save his life, Brandon actually crawled on the floor like a real dog, dragging his broken legs.

He left a long trail of blood across the floor, finally reaching Victoria's feet, desperately clinging to her black-stockinged calf.

"Ms. Sterling, I was wrong, I truly know I was wrong... Please give me another chance. I'll do anything for you."

"I'm good at serving people, I have good technique, you used to love it when I served you... Please, don't kill me.

Victoria looked down at him, a disgusted frown on her face. She raised her foot, clad in a pointed high-heel.

"You were pretty tough, pretty gutsy, holding a knife to that woman's throat earlier, weren't you?"

Victoria said coldly: "Lick it clean."

Brandon froze for a second, looking at the dust and blood splattered on her shoe tip.

But after only a second's hesitation, he stuck out his tongue like a real dog.

Fawningly, meticulously, and utterly without dignity, he kissed Victoria's dust-covered shoe tip and ankle.

As he licked, he slurred out disgusting, cheesy words:

"Ms. Sterling is my queen... I am my queen's most loyal dog... My queen, have mercy..."

I lay on the chillingly cold floor, blood still gushing, taking away my body's warmth.

But I still pushed with all my might, struggling to keep my eyes open, staring fixedly at this scene. I wanted to engrave that ugly, repulsive face deep into my memory.

The virtual panel paused for a few seconds.

Then, pop-up messages scrolled at an unprecedented, frantic speed, almost covering my entire vision:

"I'm going to throw up... This man, for money, for his life, truly has no bottom line, worse than an animal!"

"Summer Hayes is still bleeding! She's dying! He won't even look at her?!"

"Just moments ago, he was proposing with deep affection, and now he's licking another woman's shoe in front of his fiance and future in-laws?! My worldview is shattered!"

"This scumbag deserves to die! What did Summer Hayes's family do to deserve all this?!"

"Can someone save the female lead? I can't bear to watch, it's too tragic!"

"The countdown is still flashing, too much blood loss, will Summer Hayes die?"

"System alert: Vital signs rapidly declining..."

Accompanied by the system's warning, my world faded into darkness.