One of them immediately grabbed my chin, forcing my head up.
"It really is Rupert Sanchez's wife."
"He actually gave her up."
Clarence smiled faintly.
"She's just a slut."
"When you're bored with one, you get another. So this time, it's our turn to have some fun..."
Everyone understood.
Raucous laughter erupted.
Soon, I was shoved onto the carpet.
Someone yanked my hair. Someone else tore at what remained of my clothes.
The sound of fabric ripping came from every direction.
I clenched my teeth, refusing to make a sound.
But the pain was too real.
My skin scraped against the carpet, burning.
Clarence crouched in front of me, phone recording.
"Smile for the camera, Mrs. Sanchez."
I didn't move.
He kicked me hard—right in the ribs.
The agony made me curl into myself, dry heaving uncontrollably.
"Drop the act."
"Rupert Sanchez threw you away. You belong to me now. I'll do whatever I want with you."
What happened after that... I can't bear to remember.
Until the very end, when Clarence gave me one last vicious kick.
"Boring."
"Thought she'd put up more of a fight. Turns out she's just a dead fish."
Someone noticed I'd actually stopped breathing and asked nervously, "Mr. Whitney, what do we do now?"