The luxurious hotel suite was in disarray—the king-size bed rumpled, a trail of dresses and lingerie scattered across the floor.

Miss Sonia huddled beneath the tangled sheets, arms wrapped tightly around her knees. Her porcelain face was buried against them as she shook her head desperately, Sonia's voice a broken whisper: "I don't know... I don't know... Just leave me alone!"

A pack of reporters thrust their cameras closer, their lenses invading her space like predators circling prey. Their questions came rapid-fire, laced with venom:

"Miss Sonia, how long have you been cheating on your fiancé?"

"Is this hotel your usual spot for secret rendezvous?"

"Does John know he's been made a fool of?"

"Are you planning to call off the engagement with the Harold family?"

Each barbed question hammered into Sonia like a nail, her fragile composure crumbling. Tremors wracked her body as tears streaked down her face. "I didn't... I don't understand how this..." Sonia voice shattered into gasps. "Get out! All of you—get out!"

The journalists ignored Sonia pleas, their shutters clicking relentlessly from every angle. The camera flashes illuminated every damning detail—the telltale bruises blooming along Sonia's slender neck, her bitten-red lips, the slip of bare shoulder where the sheets had fallen away. The scene was equal parts vulnerability and voyeuristic provocation.

"Stop filming! Please!" Her cry was raw with terror, but the lenses only zoomed in tighter.

None of this made sense. Last night, she'd come here after receiving a message from John, her fiancé. But the moment she stepped inside, a stranger had pinned her against the wall.

The room had been pitch-black, the lights off. A man's rough kiss had stolen Sonia breath—his scent a mix of crisp tobacco and something metallic, like blood. His strength was overwhelming; struggle as Sonia might, she couldn't break free. She never saw his face.

And by dawn, Sonia innocence was gone.

Later, the pain became so unbearable that she blacked out, unaware of when the man had left.

When Sonia came to, she found a group of reporters barging into the room with a spare keycard—God knows where they got it—their cameras pointed straight at Sonia.

"Sonia!"

A familiar male voice suddenly rang out.

Sonia shuddered, lifting her gaze as if spotting a savior.

John strode in, impeccably dressed in a black suit, exuding an air of aristocratic elegance. Yet his handsome face was twisted in fury.

"John!" Overwhelmed with emotion, Sonia tried to sit up but forgot she was unclothed. The slightest movement caused the sheets to slip, revealing the telltale bruises on her collarbone.

John's eyes darkened with icy contempt. "Sonia," he spat, his voice dripping with disdain, "I didn’t want to believe it, but you’ve truly sunk this low."

"No! John, I—I got a message from you—" she stammered in panic.

"I never sent you anything," John cut her off, his disgust palpable. "From today onward, we’re done. The engagement between the Harold and Danny families is off."

"No! You can’t—"

"You dare tell me what I can’t do?"

The sheer loathing in John's eyes was like a knife plunged straight into Sonia's heart, the pain sharp and suffocating.

...

Sonia jolted awake from the nightmare.

She clutched her chest, still feeling the lingering despair from that dream.

No—it shouldn't be called a dream.

It was Sonia past life, events that had truly happened.

After the so-called "infidelity scandal" in her previous life, the video had been leaked online, branding Sonia as a "harlot." Paid trolls fabricated lies, claiming she seduced male classmates and juggled multiple relationships while in college.

A decent university student, she had been forced to drop out under the crushing weight of rumors.

But the nightmare didn’t end there. John, furious that she had "made him a cuckold" and become the laughingstock of high society, retaliated against the Danny family.

The Danny's family only ran a small business—how could they withstand the onslaught of the Harold Corporation? Before long, they went bankrupt.

Sonia father fell gravely ill, and her stepmother pressured her into marrying a wealthy man in his fifties.

That old man had a penchant for abusing women. On the day she tried to flee the wedding, he caught her and beat her mercilessly—until Sonia stumbled and fell from the rooftop...

After Sonia death, her spirit lingered in the air, witnessing truths she had never known.

Who were the allies, who were the enemies, who had been pulling the strings—only then did she see everything clearly.

...

Sonia got up and splashed cold water on her face in the bathroom.