Chapter 357

Nathan Prescott swallowed hard. His mind reeled from the woman's shocking confession.

"I sold myself to the casino. They own me now—body and soul. I'd lost all hope because no matter which man claimed me, my fate would be the same. Then...God sent you to me."

Tears spilled down her cheeks as she instinctively moved closer to Nathan.

"Hold on—stay back!"

The six-foot-tall man recoiled as if she were venomous. He put deliberate distance between them, his expression wary.

The woman flinched at his rejection, freezing in place.

"Do I disgust you? Are you afraid I'll cling to you?"

"No! That's not—"

Nathan waved his hands frantically.

"I mean you're a human being, not some commodity. No one should control your life like this."

Her lips trembled. "But the contract's signed. If you refuse me, they'll take me back. I can't bear being auctioned off like livestock again while men fight over me."

"That's illegal."

Nathan's glare swung toward Victor Holloway. The casino manager paled, immediately thrusting a document at his subordinate.

"H-Here! We purchased her for 150k dors. She's yours now!"

With shaking hands, the lackey produced the signed contract bearing the woman's fingerprint. Nathan scanned it, pausing at the name.

"Cassandra Whitmore?"

Recognition flashed across his face.

"You're the dancer from Ethan's club that night. I knew you looked familiar."

"You finally remember." A fragile smile touched her lips. "Among all those men, you stood out."

Tears shimmered in Cassandra's eyes as she gazed at him.

That fateful night, two men had caught her attention—Ethan with his brooding intensity, and Nathan with his infectious charisma.

Initially, she'd been mesmerized by Ethan's dark magnetism. But later, she realized his type wasn't for her.

Nathan's warmth lingered in her memories.

And now, when he'd rescued her from hell, something inside her reignited. She'd been ready to die.

Now, she wanted to live—for him.

"Take me with you. I'll earn my keep—cooking, cleaning, whatever you need. I graduated from Stanford with—"

"Fine. You can come."

Nathan guided her out of the casino's suffocating gloom into crisp daylight. The contrast was jarring.

Checking his watch, he tore the contract to shreds.

"You're free. Go live your life."

Cassandra stared at the fluttering paper scraps.

"You're rejecting me. I understand. But I pay my debts. I'll return every cent of that 150k. Goodbye."

Nathan opened his mouth—then closed it. Some questions were better left unasked.

"Goodbye."

Their paths diverged.

Cassandra had taken three steps when her legs buckled. She crumpled to the pavement without a sound.