Chapter 3

Luke quickly grabbed her and took her inside, locking the door behind them.

"What are you doing? I thought I told you to stay in your bedroom?"

Breathing heavily, Nera tried to push the door but it was locked. She wanted to hit Greg so badly that he would at least feel some of the pain that she was feeling.

But unable to get past her uncle she retreated back to her bedroom. Her wedding dress was now heavy from the soaking plus the mud on its edges.

Nera tried to take it off but could not locate the zip. Irritated, she grabbed a pair of scissors in the drawer and began cutting pieces of the dress. She went on tearing portions off her wedding dress as she breathed loudly and frantically. She pierced and sliced her flesh at some point but didn't feel anything or care to quit. The only agony she could feel was the one emanating from deep within her heart.

She kept cutting and changing the sides of the dress based on the angle she believed it was heavy on. The entire floor was soon covered with pieces of the lovely wedding gown. Some of the pieces were stained with blood from the cuts she was inflicting on herself.

Her uncle walked into the horror as the door opened. He dashed over to her, taking the scissors from her grasp. "What are you doing? Are you insane?" He shook her body vigorously, irritated by her actions.

"I was just… I was just taking off the stupid dress," she cried out.

He quickly grabbed a towel from the closet and wrapped it around her.

"The zip... the zip was not unlocking," she whispered, her speech a little shaky.

He drew her in for a hug, trying his best to let her know she was not alone.

"Is he..gone?" She inquired in a faint voice.

"Yes, his mother came and dragged him off the property before I had the chance to beat the life out of him," Luke replied.

She leaned back and looked into his eyes. "Did you know he was screwing Nicole?"

"No, butterfly, do you think I would have allowed you to walk that stupid aisle?"

She nodded as tears kept flowing down her cheeks.

"Those two idiots fooled us both, they do not deserve your tears," he tried to comfort her.

"Did you suspect them at all, or was I the only... fool?"

"Butterfly, no, no, they were the fools, not you." He led her to the bed, his eyes still fixed on the shredded dress on the floor.

"I know it feels like the end of the world for you, but please be strong; please, you are the only one that I have."

She simply nodded, and with his help, she slowly lay on the bed. It was already nightfall. She closed her eyes, no amount of questions was going to make her feel any better, and facing the two fools was only going to make the situation worse.

Uncle Luke got up and cleaned up all the pieces of cloth on the floor, hoping his niece would be strong for both of them. He stayed for another hour, and when he thought Nera was finally asleep, he called it a night and retired to his room.

As soon as the door shut behind him, Nera opened her eyes. She had tried to cry herself to sleep, but it was not working. Every second weighed on her heart; she needed something stronger to numb the pain, and she knew where to get it.

She went into her wardrobe and grabbed some jeans and a t-shirt. She quickly put on her sneakers and grabbed her purse.

She could already hear music from the nightclubs outside her bedroom window as she carefully opened the window and leaped out. She was well aware that her uncle would be furious, but she wanted anything to take her mind off the agony.

She never took alcohol; she was the well-mannered girl who was raised to avoid nightclubs and bad company. However, she no longer saw the sense of being a decent girl; it was all a waste of time trying to attract the perfect dumb husband who chose the very thing she was brought up not to be.

Greg still went for the local slut, no matter how highly cultured she attempted to be; all men were the same, so rather than living to please man, she was going to live her life the way she wanted to.

She arrived at the most popular nightclub and walked in. It was fully packed, with tables full of sluts and buyers ready to spend.

She walked straight to the bar and asked for the strongest spirit. All she wanted was to numb the pain. She had no money to afford the whisky, but she had heard stories from Nicole about walking into a nightclub without a coin and walking out drunk.

The bartender handed her a whisky bottle, which she grabbed and galloped like she was drinking water.

Seated in the corner of the room, watching Nera's every move since she walked into the nightclub, was Marcus Rashwell. a billionaire aged 65 He was of medium build, with short white hair, and brown eyes.

She had grabbed his attention the second she walked in. He had noticed her swollen, red eyes and could tell she had been crying. Throughout his many years of womanizing and screwing around, it was such types who were easy to manipulate and do whatever one wanted.

She'd soon be food for the club's luckiest man. He had a fantastic view from where he sat and had observed that most of the men in the club were staring at her. They were waiting for her to become drunk and then shoot their shot, which was generally his approach too, but this time he elected to get up before anybody struck.

He joined her at the bar and took a seat, requesting the bartender to include her bill in his payment.

Nera turned to face him; she had not anticipated finding a buyer in seconds, but to her disappointment, it was an old man.

She glanced up, disappointed; her night couldn't be any worse, she reasoned.

She was expecting a hot, masculine young man to come and sweep her away from her misery.

"You look disappointed," Marcus chuckled.

Nera turned away, she was tempted to find another table.

"Usually the people we look down on are the most genuine people," he added.

As she turned to face him, Nera galloped some more whisky. She took in his entire appearance; aside from being old, he wasn't bad looking. He appeared to be loaded and high maintenance.

"Describe what you mean by looking down?" She asked. "I thought that was a term for poor people."

He smiled, "I meant youthfulness; you were expecting someone younger to buy you a drink," he asked.

"Well, if I attract old people, then I have the right to be disappointed," she bluntly replied.

Marcus smiled, very pleased with her answer. He looked in the barman's direction and asked him to serve him something lighter.

The majority of the ladies he usually met in such places were turned on by his expensive suits and watch before his age.

"I am supposed to feel offended, but yet your reply made me happy," he commented. "Anyway, allow me to put a smile on your face too."

"That's impossible and I am not interested," Nera flatly replied.

"Try me; I love challenges," Marcus replied.

"I might bore you to sleep; no offense intended," she replied, taking another gulp.

"Please don't bore me; it looks like it is past my bedtime."

Nera looked at him; he was irritating, and it was obvious he was only there to get into her pants. She could see the way he was looking at her. She was about to move but then stopped herself, remembering why she was there.

"Let's get out of here," Marcus suggested. "I mean, go somewhere more fun; there is a private party two streets from here."

She glared at him, irritated.

"There are stronger wines and drugs that take the pain away," he added.

Nera paused her thoughts; it was as if the old man were reading her thoughts.

"What kind of party?" she asked.

"Follow me, and you will find out," he replied as he got there.

Nera couldn't help but notice how arrogant he sounded. He was so sure of himself that he assumed she would just get up and follow an elderly stranger. She'd never gone to a private party, but she'd heard how crazy they could be. And worse then sounded like a serial killer.

But she had nothing to lose because good girl Nera was already dead within her. She wanted something powerful, and the whisky she was holding wasn't helping. So what if he killed her, she had nothing to lose. All she wanted was for the pain to go away.

She followed him to his limo, and as they drove away, he promised her a night she would live to remember.