The Truth of Ten Years’ Cryo Chapter 2

At twenty-two, I stumbled in my tuxedo and fell to the ground in front of the police headquarters.

I remember that day. It was supposed to be my wedding day.

But Elara wasn’t wearing the custom-made, million-dollar gown. She was in her police uniform, snapping a pair of gleaming handcuffs onto my father’s wrists.

The romantic wedding venue was swarmed by police, white roses crushed underfoot.

My eyes were bloodshot as I grabbed her arm, demanding to know why.

She just wrenched her hand away, leaving me alone amidst the wreckage of our wedding. On the way to the station, my father died of a heart attack.

I chased her to the headquarters, only to be surrounded.

They tore at my clothes, clawed at my face. Rotten eggs and wilted cabbage rained down on me. Someone threw the first punch, and the mob ignited like a powder keg.

Fists and clubs rained down on me. Each blow was laced with a deep, personal hatred. A heavy pipe slammed into my lower back, and with a sickening crack, I heard my own spine break. I was tossed aside like a broken doll, my blood staining the pavement…

The scene was so brutal that a flicker of conflict crossed Elara’s face.

The crowd had fallen silent, but one man’s voice rang out.

“My child was one of the ones they trafficked! He suffered hell before he was rescued! That bastard’s father laundered money for those scumbags. He got what he deserved!”

“Yeah! He deserved it! Killing him would’ve been too good for him!”

The plaza erupted again. On the screen, I was forced to my knees, my head pressed against the sun-baked asphalt until I finally passed out.

Floating in this ethereal space, I watched my past self’s agony, and my very soul trembled.

The scene changed. We were outside the courthouse.

My face was a cold mask as I tore our marriage certificate in two.

Elara looked devastated. “Simon, what your father did has nothing to do with you. I don’t want to divorce you.”

“Trust me,” she pleaded. “Once this is all over, I’ll be the same as before.”

I cut her off with a sneer full of scorn and hatred.

“Officer Rhodes, I was the heir to a fortune. You killed my father, you ruined me, and you still have the delusion that we can be together?”

“I used to be somebody! People bowed when they saw me!” I spat. “I had luxury cars, beautiful women! I’d never been with a girl like you before, so I thought I’d try something new. And you actually thought I was serious? That this was true love?”

“Look at this cheap little thing you gave me,” I said, yanking the silver ring from my finger and throwing it to the ground. “It disgusts me to even wear it.”

This memory made Elara’s face contort with an ugly discomfort.

Bob held her, his voice a soft, sympathetic sigh. “My brother only ever saw money. He could never recognize what was truly precious. I believe a true heart is what matters most.”

Someone in the crowd snorted.

“That shallow trust-fund baby. He spent his whole life enjoying his father’s blood money. What would he know about real feelings?”

“He shamelessly became a trafficking boss’s boy toy later. She treated him like a dog!”

A wave of derisive laughter swept through the plaza.

The scene shifted again, this time to the presidential suite of a high-end nightclub.

A line of muscular male models stood before us. I was among them, dressed in revealing clothes.

The syndicate boss, Morgana Shaw, surveyed us, her face an emotionless mask.

“If you can hold your liquor, you stay. The rest of you, get out.”

I downed two bottles of whiskey, one after the other. I could barely stand, but I refused to leave.

Morgana’s expression didn’t change. She suddenly smashed a bottle, picked up a shard of glass, and tossed it at my feet.

“You want to be my man? You want to make money?” she said, her voice flat. “Carve my name into your skin.”

“Morgana Shaw.”

I didn’t hesitate. I plunged the glass into my chest, carving her name, letter by bloody letter. Blood streamed down my torso, pooling on the floor. My entire body was shaking.

But when I looked up at her, my lips twisted into a seductive smile that never reached my eyes.

“Crawl to me,” Morgana commanded in that same deadpan tone.

I lowered myself to the floor.

And like a dog, I crawled to Morgana Shaw, becoming her kept man, a member of a human trafficking organization.

Bob made a disgusted gesture, as if I were something utterly foul.

“How could my brother debase himself like that for money?”

The thought that she had once given her heart to such a man made Elara sick. Her brow furrowed in revulsion.

The crowd was just as scornful.

“The solution has to be wrong! How could a man that filthy have a pure crimson solution?”

“That pathetic dog deserved to die!”

“Selling his soul for money to traffic kids. He’s worse than an animal. A slow, painful death would be too kind.”

“Keep it playing! We want to see how the bastard gets what’s coming to him!”