"Let me go! What you're doing is illegal!" Natalie fought wildly against the guards, her wrists twisting against their iron grip. She lifted her head, eyes burning as she stared straight at Jensen. Her teeth were clenched so hard the grinding was audible. "Jensen," she demanded, "can you really look me in the eye and say Sharon is truly Sunny?" Her eyes were swollen—red, glossy, heartbreakingly beautiful—but steady. Fiercely steady. And on her back… those brutal, jagged whip scars… An ugly, deafening slap across Jensen's conscience. His hands curled into fists. He'd been the one who treated those wounds. He'd wrapped her back, layer by layer, for days. He once swore he'd never let anyone lay a finger on her again. And yet— He instinctively stepped toward her. But Sharon latched onto his arm. "Jensen, my stomach… it hurts…" she whimpered, voice fragile and sweet enough to be poison. Ice water poured over Jensen's spine. Right. Sharon was terminally ill. What did it matter if he handed her this spotlight? Natalie was young. She had time. She'd be fine. He forced down the roiling guilt and spoke, voice cold: "She's my designer. I know that for sure. Sharon—Sunny, the chief designer at Luke Corp." Sharon beamed. And Natalie—only one tear slipped down her cheek. Even after Jensen secretly married Sharon behind her back…Even after she resolved to let go… She still wanted to protect the five years they had shared. God, what a fool she was. Jensen saw that tear, and something twisted painfully inside him. In five years, no matter how much she suffered, Natalie had never cried. But now… He stepped forward again. "Don't just stand there!" Sharon snapped sharply. "Strip her. Or do I have to do it myself? Jensen, right?" She pouted, leaning into him, playing the wounded wife. Jensen swallowed hard. His gaze flicked to Natalie. "If you didn't steal anything… you've got nothing to hide." Natalie laughed. Still kneeling on the cold floor. Her dress strap torn. Her back exposed, scarred. Her body bent at an awkward angle. Her laughter—thin, sharp, unstable—cut straight through the murmuring crowd. "Enough!" Jensen barked. "Take her backstage and check her." He couldn't look at her any longer. Sharon opened her mouth to add something cruel, but the cold warning in Jensen's eyes shut her up. The guards moved to drag Natalie away—but she wrenched herself free. "No need! If Mr. Luke believes I need to be searched, why hide backstage like a criminal? Wouldn't that look more suspicious?" She sneered. "Strip me, right? Fine—I'll do it myself." And with a vicious tug, she tore off her moon-white gown and flung it aside. Gasps burst across the hall. Clad only in black undergarments, her fair skin seemed to glow under the lights— but so did the lash marks carved brutally across her back and legs."Oh my god… what happened to her?" "Were those… beatings?" Reporters surged forward, cameras clicking frantically. Natalie ignored every flash. She stared directly at Jensen and Sharon. "This is everything. Nothing left except my underwear. If Mr. Luke and Ms. Summers think I'm still hiding something…" She extended her arms. "Come search me yourselves." Jensen's expression twisted—shock, horror, something darker. Those scars. He remembered them. That half-dead girl he carried out of the Summers' basement five years ago. Broken. Bloodied. He'd spent nights nursing her back to life. She never wore off-shoulder dresses. They had never even been fully intimate—because she couldn't bear to show him her back. Now she exposed herself in front of the entire world. And for the first time… Jensen felt afraid. Sharon's expression soured the moment she saw the scars. What the hell was this woman trying to pull? She snapped quickly, "Natalie, don't pretend you're some tragic heroine. You were kicked out because you were a tramp. Mom and Dad couldn't stand your behavior. And now you're flaunting the proof of your indecency? Disgusting!” “What? Those are from sleeping around?" "She was what—seventeen? Eighteen? Wow, she must've been wild. No wonder they threw her out." The crowd's faces twisted—disgust, disdain, judgment. Sharon's lips curled triumphantly. So what if she'd given those beatings? It was her basement. No cameras.Her parents wouldn't talk. She controlled the story. Even if Natalie denied it—who would believe her? Jensen stared at Natalie, eyes widening. "So that's where the wounds came from." Natalie felt her blood go cold. His look… His disgust… If looks could kill, she'd already be in pieces. She turned her gaze to Sharon— and saw the exact same expression she had seen five years ago. Pure, gleeful cruelty. Natalie laughed—a sound brittle enough to crack. "Sharon, just because no one saw you abuse me doesn't mean you can rewrite history. You really think you can spit filth and they'll all swallow it?""What are you implying?" Sharon snapped, but there was the faintest flicker of uncertainty. Natalie lifted her hand and displayed the diamond bracelet. "You say this bracelet is part of the Devotion line. You say you designed it. Then tell everyone—what does it do?" Silence dropped over the room. Sharon hadn't expected this. Truth was, she didn't even know if the bracelet was part of the collection. She just needed a reason—any reason—to ruin Natalie. Now cornered, she darted a nervous glance at Jensen. He didn't answer. His frown deepened. Something about this felt off. Natalie saw it—saw the confusion, the tension tightening his jaw. "That's enough," Jensen said sharply. "Sharon doesn't need to prove anything. If she says it's her design, it is. Return the bracelet, and we'll let you leave quietly." So magnanimous. So merciful. As if he were granting her grace. Natalie let out a small, cold laugh. "You two might forgive and forget. But I won't." She raised her wrist— and tapped the bracelet twice. A click sounded. The diamond centerpiece shifted aside— and a soft blue beam shot out into the air. A holographic projection burst to life, illuminating the massive display screen at the front of the venue. The entire room gasped. Eyes widened. Bodies froze. And then the video began to play—and the crowd watched, stunned into silence.