?Chapter 463:


    “I am warning you! You had better open this door immediately, or I will not let you off!”


    Outside, Corrine arched a brow, pulled out her phone, and tapped the screen to stop the recording. Her voice was calm, almost amused.


    “In that case, I have even more reason not to open it.”


    A cold dread shed across Rita’s face.


    “Corrine, please,” she pleaded, her tone shifting.


    “If you open it, I will pretend none of this happened. I swear.”


    In the dimly lit room, the heavy, ragged breathing of men filled the air, sending Rita’s panic into a fevered frenzy. Her pounding on the door grew more desperate.


    “Corrine! Let me out! If you do this, my brother will not spare you, and neither will the Ashton family!”


    Corrine’s voice came through the door, steady and unyielding.


    “The corridor’s surveince is under maintenance. Except for you and me, no one will know what happened tonight. This was your n, Rita. How could you forget?”


    The words struck Rita like a hammer to the chest.


    She had paid a hefty sum to have the surveince disabled, ensuring no one would see what she had nned for Corrine. And yet, here she was—trapped in her own web.


    A tremor wracked her body, not from the cold but from sheer terror.


    “Corrine, I was wrong! I am sorry! Please, open the door!”


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    Her voice cracked as she pressed herself against the wooden surface.


    “The people inside… They are not in their right minds. They—no! Get away!”


    Corrine cast onest nce at the tightly shut door, her expression unreadable. Then, with quiet finality, she murmured, “You reap what you sow. Take care of yourself, Rita.”


    Without another word, she turned on her heel and walked away.


    Inside the room, Rita heard Corrine’s footsteps fading down the corridor, and sheer panic seized her.


    “Corrine, do not go! Come back! Let me out!” she screamed desperately.


    “Argh! Do not touch me! Stay away! All of you, stay away!”


    Rita’s frantic screams tore through the corridor, mingling with the crude, gutturalughter of men.


    Corrine’s lips curled into a cold, indifferent smile. There was no sympathy in her heart. Rita had plotted against her with full intent. If not for the unforeseen twist of fate, she would have been the one on the other side of that door.


    This was justice—swift and unforgiving.


    Back in her cabin, Corrine exhaled sharply. Her throat felt parched, the dryness spreading like wildfire. She poured herself a ss of ice water and downed it in one go, but the heat inside her did not wane. Instead, it red higher. She moved toward the mirror and caught her own reflection—her cheeks unnaturally flushed, her pupils dark and dted.


    Realization hit like a p. She was drugged. Not by the drug in the drink itself, but on the rim of the ss.


    A subtle, devious trick. Rita had indeed put in the effort this time. Corrine clenched her fists. Gritting her teeth, she strode toward the bathroom. She discarded her clothes with swift efficiency, stepping into the tub and sinking into the icy water.


    A sharp gasp escaped her lips as the freezing temperature bit into her heated skin, but it was not enough. The fire inside her refused to be quelled, smoldering like embers waiting for the slightest breeze to ignite into an inferno.


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