Chapter 6 Chapter 6

Overwhelming terror rendered Grace speechless. She clenched her teeth until they ground together and pressed her palms hard against the tabletop. She desperately tried to make enough noise to alert others or, better yet, leap up and bolt for the door.

But it was all futile. Her body slumped limply in the chair; her grip was too weak to even sweep the plate off the table.

Darkness washed over her vision. Just before she slipped into unconsciousness, she saw him sitting there, silently watching her, a cold smile on his face.

After an unknown amount of time, Grace jolted awake from the darkness. An oversized chandelier loomed overhead, its crystal pendants glistening and refracting a blinding light.

"Awake?" he asked.

She struggled to her feet, instinctively shrinking away from the sound. The room was vast. Benjamin sat on a distant sofa, watching her with an amused smile. "Ms. Catherine, your physical condition is excellent. You woke up a full half hour earlier than I anticipated.”

Grace possessed not only physical resilience, but also extraordinary mental fortitude—otherwise, she never would have survived the incident four years ago.

Fear sent her into a panic, yet her mind urged her to calm down quickly. She closed her eyes tightly, and when she opened them again, she had accepted her situation. Her voice trembled as she asked, “Are you human or a ghost?”

Benjamin let out a soft, mocking snort. "How could the clever and decisive Ms. Catherine ask such a foolish question?"

It was indeed a foolish question, fully exposing her panic.

There were no ghosts in this world, and Alex couldn't have come back from the dead. The only possibility was that he had never died. He was alive and had come to seek revenge.

Her former nightmare had become reality. The demon she feared most stood before her.

It felt like being thrust back to that scene four years ago. He sat there, coldly watching her with an indifferent gaze as sharp as a blade.

No! This was worse than four years ago. He seemed like a demon crawling out of hell for vengeance alone.

Tears streamed down her face uncontrollably, and her body shook. Yet, she wasn't a woman who would just cry and beg. Staring at him, her voice still trembling, she hardened her resolve. "What do you want? Kill me?"

"Kill you?" He chuckled softly and shook his head. "If I wanted to kill you, why would I need to expend any effort?"

If he wasn't there to kill her, then he must have been there to torment her. Crying and begging would only make things worse and fuel his cruelty. Suppressing her fear, she raced through her thoughts, searching for another way to survive. "Alex, let's both calm down and talk rationally, okay?"

He narrowed his eyes slightly, studying her. His demeanor was completely different from four years ago; this woman always managed to surprise him. "Talk about what?" he asked with interest. "That I should let you go and that you absolutely won't go to the police? That we should forget the past and start fresh?"

She had indeed intended to say that. Grace pressed her lips together, then changed her approach. "No, I'm genuinely curious. How did you escape from prison?"

He seemed slightly surprised, raising an eyebrow. "Ms. Catherine, you never cease to surprise me. This only makes me more certain that our next game will be even more interesting."

Grace couldn't fathom his intentions and responded cautiously. "What game?"

He sat back on the sofa with his long legs crossed, exuding an air of effortless ease. "Taming a devout, respectable lady and turning her into a whore who craves nothing more than to kneel and lick dick."

An involuntary shiver ran through her.

Her reaction amused him, and he slowly curved his lips. "Ms. Catherine, you come from a respectable background. You have a fine education. You are devout in your faith. You hold a respectable profession. Such a pristine person, gradually sullied until utterly filthy. Don't you think that would be amusing?"

It was the most vile malice, the filthiest revenge imaginable.

A soft knock sounded at the door. Three or four burly men stepped inside, one of them carrying a video camera. Grace sensed danger and tumbled off the wide bed, retreating until her back pressed against the cold wall.

Benjamin rose and approached, stopping a short distance away. He tossed a knife toward her feet. "Take it. Show me how you kill."

It was a paring knife—short and sharp—the very one she'd used four years ago.

A slender man stepped forward and grabbed her, yanking her toward the bed.

She struggled fiercely and snatched the knife from the floor. But before she could pierce the man with it, her wrist was seized.

Iron-like fingers clamped down on her wrist and effortlessly wrenched it outward. The knife clattered to the floor.

A fist slammed into her head, snapping it to the side. A buzzing roared in her ears, and everything around her began to sway. Through her blurred vision, she could see the man with the camera, the silent onlookers nearby, and Benjamin sitting on the sofa watching her.

She stopped struggling and slowly closed her eyes.

Benjamin leaned lazily against the sofa, his tone as casual as ever. "Is that all you've got? How boring. Let's try something different."

The gaunt man climbed off the bed, but two others closed in on her and pinned her limbs down while forcing a syringe into her body.

She felt as if she had fallen into hell. She let out a desperate whimper and struggled frantically once more. "Kill me, Alex! Kill me!"

He wore an expression of indifference and shook his head gently. "No. I told you, I won't kill you."

The drug's effects kicked in quickly. Her consciousness gradually faded, leaving only primal instincts as her body was controlled by the chemicals. The scene was even more unbearable than before; the air was thick with a lewd atmosphere. Heavy breathing mingled with blush-inducing sounds.

Of everyone in the room, only Benjamin seemed able to remain unflappable. Glancing at the restless figure beside him, he said calmly, "Michael, don't touch this woman. Be careful she doesn't bite your dick off when she gets the chance.”

Michael awkwardly protested by covering his groin with clasped hands, saying, "I... I wasn't going to touch her."

He shot a quick glance at the bed, then bent down and asked Benjamin cautiously, "Mr. Norman, how much longer will this filming go on? There are people waiting outside. As long as you don't call cut, we can keep going."

Benjamin glanced at his watch and said indifferently, "Cut it. Edit the footage. Let's see how it looks."

The professional camerawork produced superb results. Whether it was the earlier intense struggle or the later tangled confusion, the visuals were even more blush-inducing and heart-pounding when projected onto the large screen in the home theater room with detailed close-ups and immersive surround sound than they were when witnessed live.

Wrapped in a bathrobe, Grace sank deep into the oversized sofa. Her lips trembled uncontrollably. She told herself not to cry, yet tears streamed down her face. Benjamin sat nearby, turning his head to look at her with a faint, mocking smile. "You're quite photogenic."

"Really? Thank you,” she replied slowly, her voice hoarse and rough.

Benjamin looked at her in surprise and asked, "Will you go to the police when you get back?"

"With you holding it, how could I dare go to the police?" She almost guessed his next move. She struggled to curve her lips into a snort, but tears flowed harder.

He shrugged indifferently. "I knew Ms. Catherine was smart. Since that's the case, let's set the rules for our future games right now. It's simple: whenever I call, you must show up. How about it?"

Stay alive! Get out of here alive! A voice screamed in her head. Grace trembled, her lips quivering. She took a deep breath and responded, “Will we be filming this stuff again?”

“Probably not,” he replied casually, tilting his head as he considered it. "Frankly, it takes too much time and effort. I have no plans to turn you into an AV star. I might ask you to accompany some clients in the future, though. Some might prefer your type."

She closed her eyes and wept silently.

Benjamin summoned the burly man named Michael and said, "It's getting late. Escort Ms. Catherine home.”

He was actually letting her go! Grace felt tense and exhilarated. Fearing her eyes might betray her emotions, she quickly lowered her gaze to hide her expression. She dared not appear too eager and instead struggled to rise from the sofa with slow, laborious movements. Michael lost patience, grabbed her by the arm, yanked her up, and dragged her toward the door.

Suddenly, Benjamin called after her, "Ms. Catherine."

She stopped, her heart pounding with dread, fearing he might change his mind. Instead, he merely smiled and said casually, "Don't call the police. You'll regret it."

It sounded like a warning, yet it seemed to carry some other meaning. Before she could process it, Michael pressed a medicated towel over her mouth and nose.

When she woke up again, she was in her own home. Everything felt the same as it had on any of the countless mornings she’d woken up before. A light blanket covered her, her clothes hung on the chair beside the bed, and her phone was placed in the empty space on the nightstand, just as she always left it.

Outside, daylight streamed through the window, suggesting it was at least nine or ten o'clock.

She slowly closed her eyes, then opened them again, repeating to herself that last night had been nothing but a nightmare. Yet the ache in her body reminded her that it wasn't.

She buried her face in the quilt and sobbed silently. Reaching out, she fumbled for her phone in the bedside compartment. There was a missed call from Adrian and a message: Grace, don't leave your phone lying around. When I call, no one answers. Also, get some rest. No staying up late.

The timestamp read 10:30 p.m.—the very hour she had been in that devil's grasp.

Grace dialed Adrian's number with trembling hands, but the line was busy every time. After a moment of stunned silence, she sat bolt upright in bed, ignoring the pain, and frantically pulled on her clothes.

Her car was parked in the spot beside the walkway. Further away, neighbors were playing with their children on the lawn.

Grace took a deep breath, forcing herself to appear calm. She drove out of the neighborhood, constantly checking the rearview mirror to make sure no one was following her. Resolutely, she turned the car toward the police station.

"What did you say?" The officer in front of her looked startled. "Please calm down first. Take your time. Speak slowly.”

Grace couldn't possibly calm down. Since entering this place, she had lost all trace of her former composure. "Alex isn't dead! He's now called Benjamin. You have to arrest him! Arrest him quickly!”

The officer seemed even more confused. "Who is Alex? And who is Benjamin?"

Her mouth hung open as she tried to figure out how to explain. "Officer Meyer! I need to speak to Officer Carlo Meyer!" she shouted, as if finally grasping a lifeline. "He knows what's going on!"

The staff member's expression turned peculiar. He looked at Grace, seemed to hesitate, and then said, "Officer Carlo Meyer was in a car accident a few days ago. He passed away. Yesterday, the police station invited a priest to perform his funeral rites.”

Grace froze, doubting her ears. "What did you say?"

The staff member gave her a sympathetic look, rose to pour her a cup of water, and said, "Ms. Catherine, please don't worry. Take your time explaining. Even though Officer Meyer is gone, we'll still help you."

But no one could help her!

First, her parents won a travel prize and left on a trip. Then, Adrian left for training in a foreign land. She was utterly alone and helpless. Officer Meyer, whom she thought she could turn to, had died in a car accident just days ago. Were all these events just coincidences? How could they all be such perfect coincidences?

She sat there, dumbstruck and silent. The staff member couldn't help but ask, "Ms. Catherine, are you all right?"

Grace lifted her head, her gaze blank as she stared at the young officer before her. Suddenly, Benjamin's words echoed in her mind: "Don't call the police. You'll regret it."