Chapter 3

I waited at the corner for a moment until the guy came out of the office.

We exchanged a glance, then walked separately to an empty stairwell.

“Emily, maybe we should call it off—it's too risky.”

The guy looked worriedly at the red marks still on my thighs, showing reluctance.

“I'm fine.” I pulled my skirt down further.

“Jack Bennett, I can't give up. I always dream of Mia's appearance that day—I can't forget, I don't dare forget.”

My mind replayed those piercing scenes.

My Mia endured far more than this—how could I quit here!

Jack Bennett's eyes reddened too; he took off his jacket and draped it around my waist:

“Okay, I'll stay with you.”

Jack Bennett, Mia Thompson, and I grew up together as close friends in an orphanage.

Later, though Mia was adopted, our bond remained as strong.

Two years ago, after we graduated, Mia interned at this company, and the nightmare began then.

I closed my eyes, filled with Mia's sorrowful cries.

Her last phone call in life was to me.

Back then, I didn't know what she was going through.

By the time Jack and I arrived, she had no vital signs.

The bathtub water was a glaring red; I've dreamed countless times of that blood-red water spreading to my feet, swallowing me again and again.

I knew that was Mia's unrest—the person who harmed her was still free; how could she rest in peace?

Later, we found Mia's diary, vaguely recording her admiration for Blake Harrison.

Page after page documented a girl's budding feelings;

it also recorded a devil's crimes.

But when we tried to report it, Mia's adoptive parents, who had always been distant and indifferent, only cared about saving face:

“Flies don't sting seamless eggs—Mia must have had issues herself! I advise you not to blow this up; we can't afford the shame!”

My Mia, in her stifled life, desperately pursued her love, only to be led step by step into hell by a scheming villain.

Blake Harrison mentally controlled her, trapping her in endless confusion and fear, until she ended her life this way.

But she was clearly in pain, yet in her diary, she brainwashed herself repeatedly, saying it was all for love.

Is this love?

This is a cage.

Mia's adoptive parents firmly refused to report it; her funeral was hasty.

This past year, I've secretly investigated many people, realizing Mia wasn't the only victim.

Blake Harrison is cunning; he excels at toying with young girls' emotions. With money and power, minor scandals pose no threat to him.

So this year, while running several social media accounts, Jack and I worked hard to infiltrate this company—just to get the most direct evidence.

I rubbed my reddened eyes, touching the small star pendant on my chest, gazing firmly at the darkening sky outside:

Mia, none of this was your fault. The bad guys will get the punishment they deserve.