0: Prologue

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Nichole stepped out of the bubble bath and wrapped herself in towels from the bathroom.

She spent too much time inside, the man was asleep.

She sat on the bed, bluntly reaching out to take the man's face in her hands; he still did not wake up.

The man has bronzed skin, is a DJ in an underground bar with beautiful fingers and a charming smile. She thought she had a little bit of a good impression of this person, but now as she carefully observed him in his sleep, she could only feel this face, very strange.

Suddenly, she felt a trace of fear.

She was in the Presidential suite with a round bed, clothes strewn untidily. Nichole got up, found her clothes in the untidy mess and put them on. From the wallet, she took some notes and stacked them on the bedside table.

She went to the door of the suite, trying to pull the door. Suddenly she saw the mirror opposite the door and could not help but stop.

It was the image of a woman, with no soul. The pair of eyes staring at her from the mirror were empty.


When she reached home, it was early morning.

The two servants at home were new. Although they are aware of the blow hot blow cold relationship between the mistress and the master, whenever they met, they will respectfully call her Mrs.

She drove back, when half of the car had just entered the garage, the servant rushed to her car and told her: "Mrs, master is in the living room, waiting for you."

"Got it."

Although she acknowledged her verbally, she parked her car, then directly went from the garage to the external stairs upstairs, back to her room and went to bed.

Sleeping drowsily, the phone began to vibrate. Nichole fumbled with the phone. It was a string of text messages from a strange number.

"I am an adult man, how can I take money from a woman, not to mention we didn't even do anything."

Nichole carefully tried to think back on when they left contact numbers to each other. She had no clue. Suddenly she heard the sound of the door opening. Reflexively, she put the phone back on the bedside table and closed her eyes, feigning sleep.


She could hear the sounds of footsteps coming near. She felt the blanket being lifted, then the bed side depressing as he sat on the bed. Nichole was very tired, and turned over to the other side of the bed to sleep.

Sitting on the bed, the man watched her as she turned. She moved out of the blanket, but he could also feel the heat she left behind.

He turned to look at the antique clock in the corner – it was two in the morning.

His wife was more and more absent from home, but as he thought about it, he did not feel angry, but leaned closer, and re-covered her with the blanket.

At this point, he saw a hickey on the woman's white neck.


Nichole was angrily grabbed by the man and hauled up by her hair.

She tried to pull her wrist from the man as he pulled her, but he threw her back down. She fell down on the bed forcefully, the force knocking down the lamp by the bedside.

In the mottled scattered light of the lamp thrown on the floor, Nichole could vaguely see that he was about to slap her face, but stopped in the middle of the action, as if in that moment his rationale was restored. He paused, after a moment, almost gently lifted her chin : "Where were you tonight? Do you not know to clean up and then come back?"

It was an intimate action, his voice restrained. The change from aggressive to intimate was too fast. Seeing that, Nichole was surprised for a moment, then smiled provocatively: "I'm tired, please leave the room."

"Leave the room?" He gave her a condescending look and at the same time, his hands were moving to her chest –

Nichole's collar was ripped.

She tried to stop his hand, futilely. He easily hauled up her upper body, her back on the bed.

He seemed to want to strangle her, but controlled the force. He forced her face to the side, exposing the side of her neck. He did not hesitate to lean over, and bit deeply, covering the hickey there in a brutal way.

Nichole tried to free her wrist and chin, hysterically screaming: "Are you trying to kill me?"

He released her neck; the general atmosphere was cold. With a kind of elegance, he said, slowly: "I am a law-abiding citizen, how can I kill you? At the very least, I should take that bastard and send him to jail."

Her eyes widened at the comment.

Suddenly, there was a sound of the skirt being ripped off.



This is the official English translation of the book... This account will be accessed by the COO of Cloudary Holdings Ltd.

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