Chapter 228: Chapter 228



At the break of dawn, Paula was confined to a small cage, too cramped to even stretch her legs. Only a few days had passed, yet her face was already unrecognizably swollen, and bruises marred her body. The door swung open, triggering Paula’s instinct to protect herself; she immediately covered her head. Her time here had led her to the grim realization that humans could be the most monstrous beings imaginable.

“Hey!” A man with a buzz cut and boots kicked her cage. In this place, Paula was stripped of her identity and subjected to appalling living conditions. “You’re in luck. Someone’s paid a lot to buy you.” Paula’s hands, covered in dirt and blood, shook. Her mind spun as she considered her every word. Asking simple questions had landed her in this cage. In an environment where violence and mistreatment were the norm, remaining silent was her best defense.

The man crouched down, smirking as he taunted her through the bars. “Are you dumb?”

“Who wants to buy me?” Paula whimpered, her voice frail.

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

Paula shut her eyes. Despite the prospect of leaving, she felt no relief. People from across the globe frequented this place. None were ordinary; the richer they were, the more depraved they appeared. For her, this was merely another form of hell.

The man threw a filthy rag over her naked body. Paula emerged into the daylight, squinting as the sun’s blinding rays met her eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Move!”

The man’s laughter rang out as he delivered a kick that sent her stumbling toward a sharply dressed man. Her shock was evident. “It’s you?”

Callan’s expression was blank, his eyes radiating a chilling detachment. “Mr. Miller sent me.”

Paula wept bitterly. “He knows?”

Callan was not one to waste words on those he deemed beneath him. He opened the car door, and seeing this, Paula entered with a silent nod of appreciation. She vowed then to exact revenge on Rebecca.

Upon Joelle’s release from the hospital, Rafael organized a meeting for both families to discuss wedding arrangements. The gathering was delightful, but as they exited, Joelle encountered the restaurant’s manager at the corner. She used to frequent this place with Amara three years ago, a favorite among the high society ladies of Illerith.

“Mrs. Miller, it’s been some time!”

Only someone managing such an upscale establishment would be privy to Joelle and Adrian’s marital history, though clearly, he was not informed of their separation. Rafael stood close by Joelle. She clasped his arm, with the Romero family and Shawn trailing behind them.

The manager sensed an oddity upon greeting Joelle but couldn’t place it. When he noticed how Joelle and Rafael were arm in arm, he gasped. “Sorry. I made a mistake!”

Joelle responded with composure, “That’s alright. Adrian and I are divorced. Please inform your friends.”

“Of course.”

The manager continued to offer apologies to Rafael. Once he had left, Joelle turned to the Romero family to express her regret. “I’m sorry about that.”

The loud declaration of “Mrs. Miller” had been both loud and startling, resulting in the Romero family offering only forced smiles in response, remaining silent. Shawn gently patted her head, offering support. “Everyone has a history, right?”

Rafael quickly shifted the conversation to a lighter topic. While riding back in Shawn’s car, Joelle murmured, “It would be wonderful if Dad could see me get married.”

Shawn offered her reassurance. “Don’t lose hope. Didn’t Gina mention that Dad’s condition is stable? He might wake up in time for your wedding.”

“Let’s hope so.”

After the Watson and Romero families had left, the manager moved to another room. Inside, Amara was lying on a mat, enjoying a head massage.

“Mrs. Miller, I just saw your daughter-in-law with the Romero family a few minutes ago.”

Amara, without opening her eyes, corrected him. “She’s not my daughter-in-law anymore. They’re divorced.”

“That explains it.”

Suddenly, a thought struck Amara. “Hold on. Who did you say Joelle was with?”

“The Romero family, and that includes the orphan girl they adopted! Shawn Watson was there too!” The manager’s eyes lit up with curiosity. Staying informed about such relationships was part of the job.

Amara gestured for the masseuse to step out. “Find out what they discussed today.”

“Okay.”

Amara stayed in the room until late afternoon. As daylight began to fade, the door swung open. Adrian entered, his face set in a stern expression. He took off his shoes and sat cross-legged across from Amara.

“It’s unusual for you to seek me out. What’s the occasion?” she asked.

Adrian was direct. “Paula has been sold to a brothel abroad.”

Amara looked up, continuing to sip her coffee. “I had nothing to do with it.”

Their conversations often carried an implicit understanding regarding certain issues. Amara was candid and forthright; she would never deny her actions, yet she refused to accept baseless accusations. Acknowledging her response, Adrian stood to leave. As he was putting on his shoes, Amara called out from behind him.

“The Watson and Romero families were here today, discussing wedding plans. It seems they’re expecting some happy news. How about you? When will I see you settled down with a proper wife?”

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