Chapter 4

Janice's POV

"Since we've run into each other, let's head out together," Shawn said.

Running into Shawn here was a stroke of bad luck.

I declined coldly, "No, thanks. I have a ride."

"Today is the pre-wedding party. You've already agreed to attend the wedding, so skipping the party would make us look bad. Or is what they say true? Do you still have feelings for Jason and can't even bear to look at him?"

Shawn didn't give me a choice. As soon as he finished speaking, he had his men shove me into the car.

We arrived at a bar with deafening music blasting inside. The people dancing wildly in the private room turned to look at me in my wheelchair, and the room instantly fell silent.

Someone asked, "Freya, did you really invite a disabled person to your wedding?"

The room erupted in laughter.

Freya gave the person a light and playful shove. "Stop that. This is a good friend of Jason and mine. Ms. Moyer, let's play dice."

From the moment I entered the bar, I felt pressure building inside me. My head spun as waves of nausea washed over me.

Someone pushed me toward Freya. I looked back and saw Jason.

He glanced at my legs, covered by the blanket. "Is that sprained ankle still not healed? I hope there isn't some other problem—"

Freya laughed and cut him off, "Jason, you're teasing Ms. Moyer again. Ms. Moyer, Jason's just like that. He's blunt with everyone except me.

"Don't take it personally. Let's play dice. The loser drinks!"

I pressed my lips together and stayed silent. When I lost, I forced myself to pick up the glass and drained it. The harsh liquid burned its way down my throat, making my blood boil.

I set the empty glass on the table and stared at Freya. A surge of stubbornness and refusal to accept defeat rose within me. "Again!"

After a few rounds, I lost almost every single time. That was only to be expected, given how weak my hands were.

They pushed another drink toward me, but I could no longer lift the glass. I nudged the glass away with my fingers. "No, I'm done."

Freya smiled. "Ms. Moyer, it's fine if you don't want to play. But the rule here is that if you can't drink, you have to take off a piece of clothing or dance."

Even without thinking, I knew she was deliberately making things hard for me. I couldn't even manage half of what she asked.

If this were five years ago, I would have drunk them all under the table without flinching. Back then, no one dared to bully me. Now, the person who once stood by my side felt worlds away.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Jason leaning against the couch with his arms crossed. He watched us with total indifference, as if this were nothing more than a joke.

Freya's grin widened. "Do you want to drink or dance? Make a choice, Ms. Moyer."

Just then, Jason's phone rang. He gave me a long look before getting up to answer it.

My body reached its limit. I forced my eyes open, twisted my lips into a sneer, and whispered, "In your dreams. Can't you hear what I'm saying? I said that I'm done."

Freya's expression shifted instantly, and she slapped me hard. "Why didn't you die abroad? Are you tired of living? If you won't die on your own, I'll make sure you do."

Suddenly, a cold bottle was shoved into my hand. The moment the door opened again, Freya grabbed my hand and smashed the bottle against her own head.

She shrieked hysterically, "Jason, save me!"