Chapter 3

• Aurora’s POV
• My eyes were covered with a black cloth, my mouth sealed shut with duct tape.
• The drugs had left me limp like a puddle of mud, my mind blank, still unable to comprehend that everyone in the Wayne family, including my fiancé and biological parents, had silently consented to selling me to the mafia.
• 'Aurora, it's not Liam's baby. If sacrificing this child can save your father's life, then it's worth it.'
• They all pleaded with me, trying to persuade me with warmth I had never felt before, ultimately allowing the mob to heartlessly drag me away.
• Everything around me was violently shaking as I was drugged. When I woke up, I couldn't distinguish whether I was in a car or on a boat.
• Soon, the shaking ceased, and I heard the sound of an iron door being opened. Then, a sweaty figure approached me, and I was roughly slung over their shoulder. Quickly, I felt a sharp pain in my abdomen, emitting a groan.
• “Hey, this good is pregnant. Boss said to make sure nothing happens to the baby.”
• Upon hearing this, the person carrying me switched to cradling me.
• I had no idea how long I was being dragged for. I only felt the movement up and down, left and right, through numerous turns, until finally, I was placed on flat ground.
• The person then removed the black cloth from my eyes and left the room, closing the iron door behind them.
• The fear of the enclosed darkness made me struggle, but I soon realized that despite exerting all my strength, the ropes binding me didn't budge an inch.
• The air was stuffy and hot, with a foul odor permeating the surroundings.
• With a loud clang, the iron door was opened again. I quickly closed my eyes, pretending to be unconscious.
• Footsteps approached me, and I relieved when the person only checked my breathing and then moved away.
• “Fuck, she's dead.”
• That's when I realized I wasn't alone in the room, there was another woman.
• “Fuck! She's not breathing.”
• The other person cursed.
• Soon, the sound of footsteps approached, and the person guarding the door whispered something to the one entering.
• The newcomer walked into the room and kicked the person inside. "I told you to use less dosage on them, yet you killed another one."
• "The clients have arrived. Take the live ones over first."
• Quickly, someone came and covered my eyes with a black cloth again, and I was lifted once more.
• "Boss, what about this dead one? Can we enjoy her?"
• I felt nauseous, these evils didn't even spare the dead.
• "Damn it, you still have an interest even when they're dead," the leader cursed. "Remember to use condem, dead bodies bring bad luck."
• The remaining two nodded and bowed. After I was carried out of the small dark room, I could still hear their lecherous laughter.
• Tears streamed down my face as I began to worry about my fate.
• Soon, I was carried into another room, and through the black cloth, I couldn't discern the surroundings.
• I felt myself being placed on a table, and before I could catch my breath, my limbs were restrained.
• My hands and legs were spread wide apart and stayed immobilized.
• "Mr. Hill, this is the finest we've specially sought for you, eight months pregnant."
• I recognized the voice—it was Mr. Sopran, the one who took me away. Soon, I felt a person approaching, his hands reeking of filth, climbing up my face.
• "Nice physique,"
• A pair of chubby hands slowly undid the buttons of my shirt, then began to trace down from my neck...
• I tried to empty my mind, fearing any subconscious reactions would be detected.
• His hands slowly pressed, squeezed, kneaded, traversing my chest, armpits, lower abdomen, waist, even palms and soles.
• "A great specimen."
• Finally, his left hand gripped my waist, while his right ventured towards my intimate area.
• I couldn't control the trembling of my body, struggling to suppress the urge to vomit. I had to find a way to save myself but I know it is impossible.
• Just as the man's fingers touched the edge of my underwear, a huge bang echoed through the room.
• Quickly, I felt many people rushing into the room. Before I could react, I heard the sound of guns being cocked.
• "Who are you? Dare to intrude on my turf, are you seeking death?" I heard the nauseating man's interrogation,
• But before I could hear the response from the other side, a loud gunshot rang out, followed by the sensation of hot liquid spraying onto my face.
• I opened my eyes, but they were covered by the black cloth, and I couldn't see anything.
• Soon, the strong smell of blood filled the air. The room was chaotic, and I no longer heard gunfire, only the commotion of the crowd.
• I didn't know how long passed, the sounds of the struggle gradually diminished, and the room slowly returned to calm.
• Finally, someone approached me. "Boss, there's a pregnant woman here."
• "Kill her."
• As the “Boss” ordered, I could no longer remain calm. I stopped pretending to be unconscious and began to struggle frantically, emitting muffled cries through the duct tape.
• The imagined gunfire never came. After a while, the black cloth over my eyes was forcefully removed, allowing me to see the scene before me.
• Several bodies lay on the ground, one with a bullet hole in the forehead, while the rest bore the marks of fatal knife wounds.
• The once luxuriously decorated private room was now a mess, bloodstains splattered everywhere.
• Raising my gaze, I met a pair of deep ocean-blue eyes.
• The aggressiveness in that gaze, like a sharp scalpel, dissected me inch by inch, sending chills down my spine.
• I had seen this man not long ago, on the Herald family's private car.
• My pleas froze in my throat until I heard the cold, low voice again.
• "It's you again. Seems like you really want to die by my hands."
• A cruel smile crept onto his face as he reached aside, retrieving a handgun.
• "As you wish."
• He aimed the gun at me, an overwhelming sense of dread washing over me. I held my breath, closing my eyes in despair.
• I only felt the impact of four gunshots—no imagined pain. Suddenly, I felt the restraints on my limbs disappear. I opened my eyes to see the man, regal as an emperor, shooting the iron chains that bound me.
• The sensation of surviving a close call flooded over me, and I gasped for air, clutching my chest tightly.
• The man handed the gun to his subordinate, then pulled out a clean white handkerchief to wipe his hands.
• When his voice reached me again, I dared to meet his eyes- they are in charming blue.
• Then, I heard his deathly tone,
• "Crawl over here."