Chapter 1

On the day I was supposed to be the maid of honor for my best friend, I was sexually assaulted in the name of a "wedding prank."

In a deliberately darkened hotel room, my dress was dragged up over my chest while four pairs of hands roamed across my skin.

Vile, drunken laughter echoed all around me.

Afterward, those men simply plastered innocent, sheepish grins on their faces. With a casual "We were just joking around, bro," everyone readily gave them a pass.

I wanted to call 911, but every single person stepped in to stop me.

My best friend broke down in tears, begging me not to ruin her big day.

My parents, terrified of local gossip and family reputation, forced me to drop it.

Even the boyfriend I loved more than anyone secretly whispered behind my back: "Honestly, after what happened... Chloe just feels dirty."

In the end, he forged my signature on a settlement agreement.

Traumatized and numb, I wandered into the street and was crushed by a speeding truck.

Then, I opened my eyes. I had reborn—right before the nightmare began.

So this time, when my so-called best friend tried to lure me into that very room, I just gave her a sweet smile.

"Rachel, Tyler just told me he’s waiting for you in that room. You really shouldn't keep him waiting."

"Chloe, make sure you guard my ring. I'm going to check things in the back."

Rachel’s face zoomed in right in front of mine. Out of pure reflex, I took the velvet box, my mind spinning into a haze.

In a panic, I patted down my body. No shattered bones. No searing agony. No torn flesh.

Just smooth, unblemished skin.

After checking three times, reality hit me. I had come back.

My hands began to tremble. A surge of raw adrenaline nearly made me drop the box.

"You better hold onto Rachel's ring tight," Mrs. Miller’s shrill voice cut in. "That ring is worth tens of thousands of dollars. If it goes missing, you're paying for every single cent."

Watching Rachel avoid my eyes—just like she did in my past life—everything clicked.

She never considered me a best friend. From day one, I was nothing more than someone she could use.

In my last life, I threw away an interview with my dream Ivy League PhD advisor just to be her maid of honor.

Back then, I naively thought a career milestone couldn't compare to ten years of sisterhood. Even though it broke my heart, I showed up for her.

And how did Rachel repay me? She loudly complained in front of the bridal party that my cash gift wasn't generous enough, mocking me behind my back for being cheap.

Her mother backed her up, declaring I'd be held financially liable if the ring went missing, subtly humiliating me as poor.

To keep the peace, I swallowed my pride. I just smiled through the awkwardness.

They kept pushing my boundaries, testing how much dirt I would eat, until they finally locked me inside that dark room.

The catcalls and guttural laughter of those groomsmen still echoed in my nightmares.

A rough hand clamped over my mouth, muffling my desperate sobs, which only seemed to turn them on more.

They pinned my limbs to the mattress, tore my dress up to my neck, and paws grovelled greedily over my skin. When I tried to fight, a violent slap shattered my resistance.

My vision went dark and spinning. I couldn't even think.

Seeing that I was paralyzed, they grew bolder, brutally defiling my body.

In the darkness, the heavy breathing grew ragged. The distinct metallic clink of a belt buckle being unfastened plunged me into total despair.

I shivered violently, cold to the core, praying silently for anyone to kick the door down.

Suddenly, the lights flicked on.

The men froze and turned toward the doorway.

It was Ethan, my childhood cousin.

Seeing another man enter, they didn't even flinch. They casually let go of me, stood up, and laughed as if greeting a buddy at a sports bar.

The one whose pants were already half off smiled with sickening warmth, entirely unbothered that he had just been caught committing a felony.

They claimed it was just a joke.

A joke?

Stripping a woman naked is a joke?

Groping her bruised body is a joke?

Unbuckling your pants to violate her is a joke?

If it was just a joke, would they pull this crap on their own mothers or sisters?

No. They wouldn't. It was never a joke.

They simply used "a harmless prank" as cover to unleash their sickest predatory urges.

They knew damn well it was a crime. But they also knew that under the sanctity of a wedding, weaponizing a woman's shame, nobody would ever hold them accountable.

After all, they didn't technically "finish."

Too bad for them. I wasn't going to stay quiet.

I didn't care about whispered rumors, ruined reputations, or judgmental glares.

I wanted justice.

So, battered and half-naked, trembling on weak legs, I bolted toward the lobby to dial 911.

Yet the people around me physically held me back.

My "best friend" squeezed my hand, weeping hysterically and begging me not to ruin her special day.

All while her mother stood by, whispering that I must have provoked them or dressed provocatively.

My own parents forcibly tackled me into a chair, screaming that I was destroying our family's dignity and dragging our name through the mud.

Never mind that I was once their star daughter, on the verge of pursuing a doctorate.

Even Ethan—the cousin who had just pulled them off me, the boy who used to shield me from street bullies when we were kids—shrank under their menacing glares.

He muttered under his breath, "Chloe... maybe they just had too much to drink. Just let it go, okay?"

Looking at the four groomsmen standing relaxed and smug across the room, an icy chill gripped my soul.

Of course. The boys' club protects its own.

So who was ever going to stand up for me?