Sophie Smith could guarantee that this was undoubtedly the most humiliating moment of her twenty-one-year life.
She broke free from the man’s grip, kicked off her ten-centimeter high heels, and dashed out of the room like a madwoman.
She knew that in less than ten minutes, everyone would know that she had made a run for it.
She felt as if her heart was about to leap out of her chest. Yet, she knew that at this moment, she couldn’t panic, because aside from herself, no one could give her a hand.
She sneaked to the secluded back door of the villa; there was no one there, only a black, cold iron gate stood, which had been locked. She glanced up at it—it was five or six meters high. She paused for a moment, and resolutely decided to climb it.
She climbed carefully to the top, and with bare feet stepped onto the iron gate. She felt as if her soles were being pierced through.
When she was about a meter above the ground, her hand slipped, and she fell hard down to the ground.
But she had no time to cry out in pain; she got up and fled from this hellish place.
She just kept running and running, even as her legs were no longer obeying her; she continued to walk forward tirelessly.
How did things turn out this way?
Those filthy things haunted her mind like a nightmare, refusing to go away.
Her purse was left at the party, and now she was penniless; she couldn’t even make a call for help. Besides, she was a public figure. If someone recognized her, she thought her acting career might very well be destroyed.
After all, in her current disheveled state, wandering the streets, what would others think if they saw her?
She glanced around at her surroundings. This should be the suburbs, with sparse people and only an occasional car or a few pedestrians passing by.
She randomly flagged down a passing truck.
No matter, if she didn’t find someone to help, she definitely wouldn’t be able to get back to Eastern City.
Fortunately, the truck driver was an older man who didn’t recognize her as a public figure. Seeing her in such a mess, he was hesitant to come closer.
"Could you lend me your phone? I’ve encountered some trouble and can’t get back. Please, help me," she pleaded.
The driver hesitated.
"I’m begging you!" Sophie practically pleaded.
The driver sighed deeply and finally took out a phone from his pocket and handed it to her.
"Thank you, thank you." Sophie held back her tears; this night was unbearably difficult for her.
She took the phone and unhesitatingly dialed the number she knew so well.
Asher Land tossed and turned in bed, unable to fall asleep after staying up most of the night. Damn it, her image haunted his mind endlessly.
Hadn’t she only been gone for three days? Why did it feel like three years?
Feeling extremely irritable, he went to the bathroom for a shower again, his third one that night!
The phone on the table kept ringing, but he, inside the bathroom, was oblivious.
"Please pick up the phone, just pick it up," Sophie murmured to herself anxiously.
But she kept calling, one after another, and there was still no response from the other side.
"Miss, are you done with the phone? I still have to make a delivery, hurry up!" the truck driver urged impatiently.
She finally despaired, trembling as she handed the phone back to him.