Chapter 131: Running Away
One was a man she had called “brother” for eighteen years. The other was her childhood sweetheart, a man she had once been engaged to. Four years ago, Casimir had personally sent her to prison. Four years later, he had joined hands with Samuel to sell her to the red-light district. Using such despicable means against a defenseless woman—how were they any different from Jeremiah?
Raylee’s face turned ashen, rage and hatred coursing through every vein in her body. She screamed until her voice was hoarse, but Samuel never showed up. After the driver left, the madam led her into a dimly lit room bathed in pink light. Raylee’s hands were still tied, leaving her unable to resist. But she had to try.
“I’m not asking you to let me go,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “I want to buy my freedom. Whatever you paid for me, I’ll pay you back ten times over.”
The madam scoffed, patting Raylee’s cheek mockingly. “Aren’t you a little rich girl?” She folded her arms, shaking her head. “Sweetheart, are you stupid, or do you think I am? Do you really think you’re only worth what I paid for you?”
“Ten times the price?” she laughed coldly. “With a face like yours, you could make twenty times that in just one night!”
Raylee’s expression didn’t waver. “I can pay you back. Not tenfold, not a hundredfold, but a thousandfold. Even ten thousandfold. I’m not joking. I’m the adopted daughter of the Goodwin family and the future daughter-in-law of the Lorimer family. I have plenty of money.”
“Sure, you’re not short on money, but I am!” The madam waved a hand dismissively. “Enough talking, stop wasting your breath. Be a good girl and drink this water. I’ll find you a nice guest.”
She remained completely unfazed as she brought over a glass of water. Gripping Raylee’s face tightly, she forced the liquid down her throat. Raylee choked and coughed violently. “What did you make me drink? Ugh…” She gagged, trying to spit it out, but it was too late. A strange sensation had already begun spreading through her body.
“Hey, this is something precious, you know. It’ll help you embrace your natural instincts. Women are meant to please men, after all. But don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll teach you, little by little, how to take care of a man…” The madam rambled on, her voice dripping with amusement. Then, with a smirk, she turned and left the room.
Raylee felt like she was burning up, as though she had a raging fever. Her face flushed crimson, like she had downed too much alcohol, and a wave of unbearable heat surged through her body. Yet, beneath the heat, she felt an icy chill radiating from her core. Even the sweat trickling down her forehead and body felt cold.
Her consciousness began slipping away, her vision turning hazy, as though shrouded in fog. But even in that state, she knew that if she didn’t escape soon, the consequences would be unimaginable.
Summoning every ounce of strength she had left, Raylee forced herself up. Staggering toward the wall, she braced herself, then rammed into it with full force. The sharp pain was unbearable, nearly making her cry out. But it worked. For a brief moment, her mind cleared, the haze lifting just enough for her to see the room around her.
It was practically empty. Her gaze locked onto the cup sitting on the table. A glimmer of hope sparked in her heart. Five minutes later, gripping a broken shard from the teacup, she started sawing through the rope binding her wrists. The jagged edge sliced into her skin, leaving behind a sticky sensation—she was bleeding. But she didn’t care. Keeping a wary eye on the door, she ignored the pain and continued cutting, inch by inch, with unwavering determination. For every cut she made, the flames of vengeance inside her burned even brighter.
Why do the people who hurt me get to live freely while I’m thrown into hell? I have to get out of here!
No matter how cruel fate was, she refused to surrender. Even if it meant death, she would drag those monsters down with her.
Finally, the rope snapped. Her wrists were swollen from being bound for so long, and her hands were covered in deep cuts, the raw wounds bright red as if she had just washed them in blood. The sight was jarring, but Raylee barely flinched. She clenched her fists, letting the pain sharpen her focus. Compared to what she had endured in prison, this was nothing. But the drug was still in her system, pulling her under again. Her vision blurred. With one last burst of willpower, she bit down hard on her tongue.
The sharp sting jolted her back to her senses. Without wasting another second, she yanked the door open and bolted. The place was a rundown hotel, with tiny rooms lined up on either side of a narrow hallway—so cramped, only one person could walk through at a time. From behind the closed doors, muffled sounds of pleasure echoed through the air. Raylee fought back her revulsion, forcing herself to stay focused as she sprinted down the hall.
Luckily, the madam hadn’t thought to guard her room. She must have assumed Raylee wouldn’t be able to escape with her hands tied and the drug in her system. Raylee had already made it to the stairs when someone shouted from behind, “Oh no! The new girl ran away! Quick, catch her!”
Summoning every ounce of strength she had left, Raylee dashed down the stairs. But in her haste, she lost her footing—plummeting straight from the second floor. A sharp pain tore through her head as she hit the ground, warm blood trickling down her forehead. But instead of stopping her, the pain helped her fight off the effects of the drug even more.