Chapt 23. Do You Believe Me?

Ding.

The elevator chimed, and a burst of noisy voices carried down the hall.

“Hey, hurry up and come see! Someone’s actually—oh, she’s still in a cleaner’s uniform—”

The speaker immediately shut when his gaze landed on the man in front of them.

D–Dominic Lancaster?!

The noisy group, who had rushed out eager to gawk, instantly stiffened. Excitement drained from their faces, replaced with ashen fear. None of them dared to laugh or whisper again. They stood frozen in the corridor, caught between running away and pretending they hadn’t seen a thing.

Dominic’s expression turned arctic. With one hand, he stripped off his tailored jacket and threw it over Isabella’s shoulders, shielding her from view. His tall figure loomed protectively in front of her, his voice colder than ice.

“Still standing there? Or do you need me to escort you out personally?”

“No, no, not at all! We’ll… we’ll leave right away!” The man at the front stammered, his curiosity instantly suffocated. Not one of them dared to glance again at the trembling woman half-hidden behind Dominic. Heads lowered, they shuffled back into the elevator like guilty schoolchildren.

Among the group, Clara caught a glimpse of Isabella’s face. Her heart jolted—was that really her? But before she could be sure, a wealthy heir dragged her into the elevator.

“Are you insane? Do you want to die? Don’t stare at them!”

The corridor, moments ago crowded, fell utterly silent.

Isabella’s hands trembled as she clutched the ruined fabric of her uniform. With her other hand, she tried to return Dominic’s jacket. “Mr. Lancaster… your clothes. I don’t deserve them.” Her voice shook, tears slipping down her cheeks without permission.

Dominic’s gaze flicked down to the damp tear stains soaking into his expensive jacket. A strange, restless irritation knotted in his chest. He hesitated before accepting it back, his lips curving into a mocking smile.

“Dressed like that and you still think you can walk away unseen? What’s your plan now—seduce another man? Or is this your way of playing the victim to make me pity you?”

Seduce?

The bitter taste filled her mouth as tears slipped past her lips. Did he really believe she wanted this? That she had chosen to be humiliated, to be stripped bare?

Who had ripped her clothes to shreds if it’s not him?

His eyes lingered on her tear-bright gaze. For a second, something tightened across his chest, but his tone was colder than ever.

“Don’t waste your efforts. No matter who you try, no one else can save you. The only one who can release you from here… is me.”

Her hand clenched into a fist. She forced a laugh, sharp and self-mocking.

“So that’s what you’re suggesting, Mr. Lancaster? That I seduce you?”

Her lips trembled as she pressed them together. Her chest ached with the weight of an unspoken grief.

“Two years ago, you already despised me. Now, after prison, after this… what could I possibly be to you? Is this your way of telling me I’ll never leave here—that I’ll spend the rest of my life paying for sins I didn’t commit?”

Dominic’s smile cut like glass. “At least you’re self-aware.”

She had expected it, expected his contempt, but the words still sliced her apart. Pain lanced through her chest, a thousand knives stabbing at once.

Her voice shook as she lifted her eyes to his.

“And if I said it wasn’t me who hit Sophia? That she ran in front of the car on purpose—would you believe me?”

Her question ended on a whisper, trembling, fragile.

She had spoken those words countless times, to countless ears. Not once had anyone believed her. Not her friends, not her family. Not even her brother.

The evidence had been overwhelming, every witness damning. And besides, everyone believed her reckless enough, proud enough, to do such a thing.

Yet still… still she wanted to ask him again. He was clever. Sharp. Surely, he could see through Sophia’s carefully woven act. Surely, he could see the truth.

Dominic let out a low laugh, his eyes glinting with cruel amusement. His hand lifted, brushing against her cheek. Fingers traced the jagged scar that marred her once-delicate skin.

“Two years inside, and you’ve learned nothing. You still can’t admit what you are.” His tone was dripping with disdain. “This scar? Useless. Just another reminder of what you deserve.”

Isabella flinched back, retreating from his touch as though it burned her. Her throat closed up, and before she knew it, tears were streaming freely down her cheeks.

She ducked her head, hurriedly wiping at them.

“Don’t pretend to be pitiful in front of me,” Dominic said flatly. “It won’t work.”

Her breath shook. She forced her voice to remain steady.

“Do you have anything else to say, Mr. Lancaster? If not… I should return to work.”

She didn’t wait for his reply. Clutching the shredded uniform at her chest, she gathered her cleaning tools and fled down the corridor.

Her knees screamed with every step, pain radiating from the bruises. The left leg—once nearly shattered under his kick—throbbed with a stabbing ache. But she didn’t stop until she slammed the door of the supply room behind her.

The moment she was alone, her body gave way. She collapsed onto the cold floor, curling around the sharp agony in her leg.

When she pulled up her trouser leg, her breath caught. The bruises had deepened, spreading into a grotesque bloom of purple and blue.

Her mind replayed the doctor’s words from two years ago.

“Your left leg… you’ll need to protect it carefully from now on. Otherwise, it may never recover.”

“But I can still dance, right? Even just for four hours? Two?”

“…I’m sorry. No. Never again.”

Everyone remembered Sophia was a dancer, and the fragile swan robbed of her stage. But who had remembered Isabella, who had loved dancing just as much? Who remembered that the stage had once belonged to her, too?

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The sudden knock jolted her upright. She wiped her tears away in a panic, forcing herself to stand. Opening the door, she forced a polite smile.

“May I help you?”

It was Nina—the bubbly young woman who had stood up for her earlier.

Nina’s brows furrowed at once, her gaze dropping to Isabella’s swollen knee. “They really did hurt you, didn’t they? I heard crying from inside.” Her voice sharpened with anger. “I knew it! I’m a lawyer. If you need help, I’ll stand by you. Tell me who did this—I’ll take them to court myself!”

Isabella’s throat tightened. For a moment, she couldn’t speak. Abandoned by family, betrayed by friends—and yet a stranger was willing to fight for her.

“Thank you. Truly. But… I don’t need help.”

Nina frowned. “You’re worried about money, aren’t you? Don’t worry—I won’t charge you. And if I lose, my mentor will take over. We’ll cover the fees. You won’t have to pay a cent!”

Isabella shook her head firmly. “It’s not that. But thank you, really.”

Nina’s expression clouded with frustration. “You’re hiding something. Is it because you’re afraid this place will retaliate against you? Or—”

“Don’t waste your sympathy.”

A honey-sweet voice interrupted, dripping with malice. Tiana strolled down the hall, clinging to the arm of a wealthy, greying man. Her eyes sparkled with false concern, her tone mocking. “Miss, don’t go playing the Good Samaritan. Wolves bite back. And Isabella Crater?” She let out a silvery laugh. “She’s a criminal.”

The old man blinked, surprised. His curious gaze raked over Isabella’s face.

Nina’s lips parted. “What?”

With a proud little smirk, Tiana gave Isabella a shove toward the door. “Go on, tell her yourself.”

Isabella stiffened at the contact. She had always hated being touched. But prison had taught her to endure. Her voice was flat as she answered.

“Two years ago… attempted murder. I served time.”

The words silenced Nina. Shock, disbelief, discomfort—emotions tumbled across her face.

Isabella had seen it all before. She gave a polite bow. “Thank you for your kindness. But I have work to do.” She slipped out, gathering her tools, and closed the door behind her.

Tiana hooked her arm back through the old man’s, her lips curving with smug triumph—and something darker, uglier: jealousy. Her voice rang loud enough to echo down the corridor.

“A beautiful murderer is still a murderer, Mr. Li. Best stay away from her, before she decides to kill for money.”

The words carried clearly to Isabella’s ears as she scrubbed the floor ahead. She did not look back. But her knuckles whitened around the mop handle until they bled.