Chapter 4

That evening, Zayne insisted on dragging me to a company's networking event. We'd been together for two years, but this was the first time he was willing to show up with me in a public setting.

The night went smoothly, and Zayne seemed to be in a good mood—until Yasmin stumbled into the gala like a lost bunny and bumped straight into a businessman, knocking the glass of red wine right out of his hand.

The crimson liquid splashed all over his expensive suit, and his expression instantly congealed. "What the hell is wrong with you? Don't you watch where you're going?"

Yasmin immediately teared up and pitifully looked at Zayne.

He frowned and stepped forward to shield her. "She's still a kid, Mr. Lawson. Please don't hold it against her," Zayne stiffly said.

His dry words only made the businessman's expression even darker. He pointed at Yasmin who was standing behind Zayne and sneered, "Alright, I won't hold it against her if she pours me a drink and apologizes."

Yasmin tugged at Zayne's sleeve, silently asking for help. He gently patted her hand before shifting his attention to me. "Em, why don't you pour Mr. Lawson a drink?"

I was caught off guard for a moment before immediately refusing. I said, "Why should I?"

Zayne's brows drew together, his expression the picture of disappointment. "Yasmin is young. She's not used to these situations. But you are. You know what to do."

A hush fell over the crowd. The other guests exchanged glances, their eyes gleaming with amusement. Then, one of them broke the silence and nudged Zayne with a sly grin. "Who would've guessed? She's so young yet already so experienced. You're one lucky guy, Mr. Jefferson!"

"Right, we could all learn a thing or two from you, Mr. Jefferson. You really know how to train your women."

"Maybe you can teach us how to make ours so… capable."

Their insinuating comments drained the color from my face.

Zayne's gaze hardened. He was about to retort when Yasmin suddenly wobbled and fainted.

Panic instantly washed over him. Without a moment's hesitation, he scooped her up and rushed out, leaving me behind to face the increasingly bold stares from everyone.

In the end, it was that businessman who stepped forward and led me out. Before parting ways, he handed me his coat and said, "Young lady, you're still oh-so young."

His words shattered all the pride I'd been pretending to have.

…

When I arrived home, I stood in front of my wardrobe for a while.

It was filled to the brim—mostly with gifts Zayne had given me. I took them out one by one and laid them neatly on the bed.

The red lace slip dress was a gift from Zayne for our 100th day together.

The black stockings was his gift for our first anniversary.

The pointed-toe heels was my birthday gift from him for my 20th birthday.

Zayne had everything custom-made for me, and all of it turned me into nothing more than an object to satisfy his desires. But it was only now that I realized… this wasn't love.

My phone suddenly lit up with a new message from Zayne.

"Yasmin's fine now. I'm on my way to pick you up. I bought you a new ring. I'll give it to you when I get back. Also, about tonight… I'm sorry."

Just then, I received a call from Mr. Levine. He said, "There's been a change in plans, Emilia. We have to leave a day earlier. The car is already downstairs to pick you up. Hurry up and pack your things."

"Alright." I wiped away my tears, grabbed my suitcase, and walked out of the place that had trapped me for far too long.