Chapter 433 The Truth Beneath the Lies

Taylor’s face twisted in disgust as the crowd quickly dispersed. In this company, it still took a powerful man to make people listen.

She didn’t leave, and Jordan didn’t ask her to. Instead, he walked over to Yunice and said quietly, “Ms. Yunice, you should go rest. Wyatt knows what he’s doing.”

Yunice snapped, “He thinks beating someone to death will solve anything?”

Jordan frowned. “If you try to stop him like this, Wyatt’s going to think you’re worried about Paul getting hurt.”

Yunice ignored him completely, still tugging at the door. “So beating him matters more to you than I do, Wyatt?”

“You left me behind the very first time. That was the worst experience of my life—and it was with you!”

She kicked the door hard, breathing heavily with rage.

Jordan and Taylor stood frozen, both wishing they could stab out their own eardrums. These two always looked so polished in public—who knew they could say such wild things in private?

When the door wouldn’t budge, Yunice gave it one last glance, then turned to walk away.

She’d brought this humiliation on herself. She wasn’t anyone important. What made her think Wyatt would come just because she called?

Because he spent ten billion to get her back?

“Yunice.” Wyatt’s voice called from behind her.

Her eyes stung as she turned around.

He had opened the door.

Her gaze flicked over him and landed on the hand he’d kept behind the door.

She rushed forward and grabbed his sleeve.

His hand, injured from breaking the lock, was bleeding.

Yunice froze, her eyes rising from his hand to the figure behind him—Paul, slowly climbing off the floor, his face a swollen, bloodied mess.

He could barely move now. Kneeling, he looked up at Yunice with a face full of blood.

Seeing her icy stare, Paul grinned wickedly. “Yunice, remember how sweet things used to be between us? Be honest—when you were in bed with him, weren’t you really thinking of me?”

Wyatt’s fury flared again—why hadn’t he just beaten him to death?

But Yunice reached out and grabbed his bloody wrist, the slickness unclear if it was his blood or Paul’s.

She held him tight, not giving him a chance to lash out again.

She just looked at Paul coldly and said, one word at a time, “He really likes the mole between my legs.”

Paul froze.

Jordan and Taylor simultaneously slapped their hands over their eyes. Dear God, why were they cursed with ears?

Looking at Yunice’s mocking smile, Paul’s face turned purple and red—though it was hard to tell with how swollen he was.

He forced a sneer, trying to sound calm. “What a coincidence. I liked that mole too. But too bad—no matter how much he likes it, I had it first. Just thinking about it makes me feel dirty. Don’t you agree, Yunice?”

Wyatt’s eyes were bloodshot, glaring daggers at Paul. His arm tensed against Yunice’s grip, both of their arms shaking slightly from the silent tug-of-war.

He looked at Yunice with pain. Why wouldn’t she let go? Why let Paul humiliate her like this?

Was she really going to let him drag her name through the mud like that? Had she no dignity left?

Then what had Wyatt been protecting all this time?

But just as he looked at her, Yunice suddenly burst into a laugh.

A strange, eerie laugh that sent chills down everyone’s spines. All eyes turned to her.

When she finally stopped laughing, she cocked an eyebrow and said with cutting sarcasm, “Paul, have you even seen if there’s a mole there?”

Wyatt’s eyes widened. He stared at her in stunned silence.

Even he hadn’t looked that closely. He wasn’t even sure if she really had one.

But when he looked at Paul—who looked even more confused than him—it all clicked.

Paul had made the whole thing up, hoping to trap Yunice in a lie.

Female anatomy varied. Some bled, some didn’t. A hymen could break from more than just sex—even injury or accident.

And even if someone was a virgin, they could be accused of getting surgery to fake it.

No one walked around with an ultrasound machine on their shoulder. Who could say definitively what someone had or hadn’t done?

People would believe the rumor, but no one could ever prove their innocence.

Even if Yunice brought in a medical report, they’d say her family owned a hospital and forged the results. Even if her hymen was intact, they’d say it was surgically repaired—and maybe her “older brother” was the one who did it.

They’d say she’d been with Paul for years—how could she possibly still be untouched?

They’d say the hickey on Paul’s neck was hers, that she’d been corrupt since she was young and seduced younger boys.

They’d say on that cruise, she and Paul had done unspeakable things.

And when the gossip flew, Paul never denied it. He leaned into it—boasting about her obedience, her initiative, how she’d fawned over him. He painted every youthful mistake of hers in vivid, sleazy detail.