Chapter 3

"Ahhh! Help! Chloe, help me! Someone help!"

Not even ten minutes later, Rachel came stumbling down the hallway, her gown torn, hair a wild mess. She gripped my arm like a drowning animal.

"They... they touched me... Help me, oh god..."

Her mascara was running down her face in black streaks, her makeup a smeared, grotesque mask.

Inside, I felt nothing but cold contempt. On the outside, I gasped in utter shock.

"Rachel! What happened?! You're scaring me!"

"What the hell is wrong with you? Get back inside! Stop making a scene!"

Tyler rushed over, his breathing ragged, his lips oddly flushed. He grabbed Rachel's wrist, violently yanking her back toward the hallway.

"Tyler, your friends... they violated me... I don't want to live anymore!"

Rachel collapsed into Tyler's chest, sobbing hysterically. Tyler threw a forced, apologetic smile at the gathering guests, acting like his bride was just having an embarrassing emotional breakdown.

Seeing Tyler trying to drag her out of public view, Rachel panicked, thrashing like a maniac.

"Mom! Dad! Help me! They're trying to destroy me! Help... Chloe, do something, please!"

"What are you talking about?" I said loudly, holding her firmly. "Your own husband wouldn't hurt you! Don't talk nonsense, let's get you inside."

Ignoring her terrified eyes, I locked my grip on her and steered her right back into Room 608—their chosen slaughterhouse.

Or rather, Room 602, the room they had prepared for me, now worn by Rachel.

The suite was tense. The four groomsmen were there. And so was Ethan—who, just like in my previous life, had walked in just in time to break it up.

"Who did this to my baby?!"

Mrs. Miller stormed in like a hurricane. She wrapped her arms around the trembling Rachel, glared around the room, and immediately locked her vicious eyes onto me.

"What kind of maid of honor are you?! Your only job was to take care of my daughter! You couldn't even do that? You useless little bitch!"

Her twisted logic almost made me burst out laughing. Am I your family's personal maid? Am I responsible for babysitting a grown woman older than me?

"I don't know, Mrs. Miller," I replied innocently. "Rachel just ran out crying, saying those guys took advantage of her. Shouldn't you ask the groom what happened?"

Mrs. Miller choked on her words. Hearing the reminder of what had transpired, Rachel lost it completely, clawing blindly at anyone nearby.

She screamed for her mother to get justice, but turned meek and pathetic the moment she looked at Tyler.

"Tyler... your friends... oh god... I want to die..."

Seeing her clutching Tyler’s sleeve while carefully avoiding any move toward the balcony, I quietly kicked open the suite door and screamed toward the crowded hallway:

"Oh my god! Rachel, the groomsmen assaulted you?! How could they?!"

In a heartbeat, everyone inside and outside the room froze.

Dozens of guests swarmed the doorway, whispering, filming, pointing fingers.

"Wait, the bride got felt up by the groomsmen? That's awful..."

"Well, look at how low-cut her dress is. She was basically asking for it."

"Shameless..."

Rachel’s face went ghost-white. She swayed, nearly collapsing.

I watched coldly. Just as expected, the crowd immediately blamed the woman for not "protecting herself," while offering instant leniency to the predatory men.

Human nature never changes.

The very people who victim-blamed me in my past life were now hurling the exact same verbal stones at Rachel.

So, Rachel, are you going to fight back? Are you going to press charges against the real monsters?

Don't disappoint me now.

"No! It wasn't me! It's Chloe! She told me to go into that room! It's all her fault!" Rachel shrieked.

Instantly, dozens of condemning glares snapped toward me.

Tsk. How utterly pathetic.