Chapter 1 A Twisted Misunderstanding

• “It wasn't me. You have to believe me.” Mabel Jennings stared defiantly at the person inside the car, while the rain poured heavily outside. The drenched car window obscured her view, but she could faintly make out the stern face inside the car. Mabel, shivering outside the car, shouted through the wet window, “Xavier! At least hear me out!”
• Suddenly, the car door swung open. Before Mabel could even rejoice, a strong force yanked her harshly into the vehicle. She fell onto Xavier Scott, instantly soaking his crisp white shirt.
• “Xavier, those thugs who hurt Whitney, I didn't arrange for them.” As soon as Mabel spoke, a slender yet powerful hand gripped her chin. From above her head, Xavier's uniquely magnetic baritone echoed, “Do you really like me that much?”
• His voice was cool and detached, and his breath carried a faint hint of tobacco—his signature scent.
• “What?” Mabel was a bit taken aback. Everyone knew how much she liked him; why would he suddenly ask such a question now?
• Xavier kept his grip on Mabel's chin while his other arm reached out toward her. His fingertips tenderly brushed against her cold, wet cheek. Mabel lost herself in his tender gaze. She seemed to already anticipate his next words as he asked, “Are you cold?”
• Suddenly, he exuded a menacing aura as he asked coldly, “Mabel, do you like me so much? So much so that you're willing to harm Whitney's life?”
• A chill surged from the depths of Mabel's heart and swiftly spread to her every limb. Mabel instantly sobered, a bitter smile tugging at her lips. How could I ever imagine that this man would be gentle toward me? It's not tenderness after all, but Satan's smile.
• “I didn't mean to endanger Whitney's life—” she began to explain.
• “Right, you didn't intentionally plot to kill Whitney; you simply bribed a few thugs to violate her.” Anger gradually welled up in Xavier's gaze as he cut Mabel off. Without giving her a chance to explain, his large hands tore apart Mabel's clothes.
• “Ah!”
• Mabel shrieked as she was ruthlessly pushed out of the car. She tumbled awkwardly into the rain. Xavier's frosty voice stood out starkly against the sound of the rain.
• “Mabel... Ms. Jennings, I will treat you just as you have treated Whitney. How does it feel to be left exposed?”
• Whoosh!
• Mabel suddenly looked up, her eyes wide with disbelief as she stared into the car. Xavier remained seated inside, looking down at her from his elevated position. He pulled out a handkerchief and leisurely wiped his fingers. “Ms. Jennings,” he said, “I'm quite tired at the moment. Please, go back.”
• “Xavier! Listen to me! I really—”
• “Listening to you, Ms. Jennings, isn't out of the question,” the man said, shooting Mabel an indifferent look. “If you're willing to kneel outside the Scott residence for a night, perhaps I'd be in a good enough mood to grant you ten minutes of my time.”
• The car door abruptly closed, and a handkerchief was tossed out from within, gracefully landing in front of Mabel in a wet puddle.
• Mabel bent down, picked up the handkerchief from the rain-soaked ground, and clutched it tightly in her palm.
• Meanwhile, Xavier's car pulled into the Scott residence, and the wrought iron gates of the estate closed unforgivingly in front of her.
• Mabel stood pallid in the rain. After a long while, she suddenly raised her head and strode toward the grand entrance of the Scott residence. Her lips were tightly pressed together and with a thud, her knees hit the ground.
• She knelt down, but it wasn't for atonement.
• She did it simply because Whitney Schumer was her friend. When a friend passed away, she was supposed to pay her respects. She wasn't doing it because everyone thought she was responsible for Whitney's death.
• She was also kneeling to beg for ten minutes of Xavier's time, that he would listen to what she had to say.
• Her clothes were torn and tattered, barely covering her vital areas. She wrapped her arms around her body to shield herself, yet she stood tall and straight. She was proud, her spirit unyielding even when brought to her knees. Mabel would not let anyone take her pride or dignity away from her.
• She stubbornly knelt down, all for a chance to clarify things. She wouldn't confess to something she hadn't done.
• But, will I really get the opportunity? In fact, can I even explain everything clearly? Also, will anyone truly believe what I say?
• The rain fell harder and harder and never let up.
• A night had passed.
• Mabel remained on her knees outside the Scott residence despite the downpour.
• Her clothes were totally drenched from kneeling in the rain for an entire night.
• As dawn finally broke, the estate that had been eerily quiet all night started to bustle with life. The elderly butler, Michael, held an old-fashioned black umbrella as he walked across the estate's courtyard, his silver hair gleaming.
• The iron gate creaked open to form a narrow passage. Mabel finally stirred, lifting her drooping head. She flashed a pale smile at the old butler standing in the middle of the narrow opening.
• “Ms. Jennings, Mr. Scott has requested that you leave,” Michael stated. His hair was meticulously combed, not a strand out of place even in the rain, reflecting the strict orderliness of the Scott residence where every blade of grass and tree was tended to by dedicated staff. He also left a piece of clothing for Mabel.