The club came to life as the clock struck the hour, its revelry beginning in the early evening and stretching well into the midnight hours. Isabella Thorpe had Exquisite prepared Elizabeth with care, leaning in to whisper, "Elizabeth, I wish you to find a branch higher than Brother Darcy and escape him."
"Ill take that wish," Elizabeth replied coldly.
She was then led into a room upstairs, where the walls were adorned with an assortment of indescribable implements, and there was a short, fat, lecherous man present. From the moment Elizabeth entered, his gaze was fixated on her fair and delicate skin, exclaiming, "Clean, so clean."
This smooth whiteness was a bit monotonous, and he intended to mar it with various marks, enhancing her beauty in his twisted view.
Despite the rooms warmth, Elizabeth couldnt help but shiver.
Clad in a silver, form-fitting mini dress that barely covered her hips and a V-neck that plunged low in the front, with every turn revealing the expanse of her bare back, she was the picture of vulnerability.
"Mr. Ding, enjoy yourself," Isabella said with a smile, pushing Elizabeth forward.
As soon as the door closed behind her, the man pounced on her, his impatience evident in his actions.
"Ah... let go of me..."
Isabella left Elizabeths screams confined within the room.
Never would Elizabeth have imagined that she, once doted upon by Mr. Darcy, would end up here in such a degrading manner.
She burst out of the room, stumbled to the sink, and rinsed her mouth frantically, but the feeling of revulsion lingered.
"Seems like youve found a job that suits you better. I never knew you had such a talent before?" came Mr. Darcys mocking voice from behind, filled with biting sarcasm.
The man, Ding, was well-known to him, famous for his preference for sadism over actual intimacy.
His intention was to teach this woman, who wouldnt back down without seeing the coffin, a lesson.
However, seeing her skin still unblemished and her near-retching expression, Mr. Darcy felt a surge of uncontrollable anger.
Unexpectedly, Elizabeth had stooped so low as to use her mouth...
Mr. Darcy was mistaken, but she had no desire to explain.
Elizabeth washed away her tears and turned to face Mr. Darcy, her eyes filled with nothing but calmness. "I wasnt beaten by that man. Are you disappointed? Mr. Darcy, to kill a person is but a point of the ground."
Mr. Darcy sneered, "Indeed, its too simple, so I wont kill you."
Elizabeth was taken aback for a moment, then scoffed.
Mr. Darcy after five years had become so unfamiliar.
Now, she no longer had the capital to risk her life; for her daughters sake, she had to endure.
"Mr. Darcy, may I get off work now? I need to pick up my child from school."
Without a word, Mr. Darcy let go, and Elizabeth hurried away.
Suddenly, her wrist was grabbed, and her thin back collided with the hard marble wall. Elizabeth bit her lip to hold back the cry of pain.
Mr. Darcy roughly wiped her lips, his mind uncontrollably imagining her serving another man with them, a place in his chest about to explode with rage.
"Why, do you regret it? Are you reluctant to let go? Or do you also want to try it?" she croaked out, laughing with scorn.
Mr. Darcys ravaging fingers paused, and he abruptly pinched her neck, his eyes filled with deep hatred and disgust.
"I find you dirty."