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Beg Me for Mercy Novel Cover

Beg Me for Mercy

In Beg Me for Mercy, a former academic star attends a college engagement party wearing a discreet, handcrafted gown by a master designer. While her former classmates flaunt loud luxury brands and openly mock her seemingly plain attire, she remains composed. Even the well-meaning class monitor offers pity, unaware of the dress's true value. This billionaire romance explores the tension between outward status and authentic wealth as one woman navigates a room full of shallow judgments.
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Chapter 4

Mabel assumed I was scared because I wasn't responding. She pulled a thick stack of dark green bills from her purse with a smug smile.

"This is ten thousand dollars. Take a good look. Ten grand. That's probably a few months' worth of your salary.

"All you have to do is get down on your knees, bark like a dog, and say you're my pet. This money will be yours. But if you refuse? Well… you might need it for your medical bills."

My gaze turned ice-cold. "Mabel, it looks like the one with a death wish here is you. Do you even know who you're talking to?"

Instead of backing down, she threw her head back and laughed, her arrogance growing. "Oh, please. You still don't get it, do you? You're nothing but a low-level worker, just another wage slave at the bottom of society!"

She looked me up and down, clicking her tongue in exaggerated pity as she mocked, "Just look at those rags you're wearing. The jacket on my back could buy you a lifetime's worth of clothes."

I nearly burst out laughing.

My outfit was a luxury and custom-made by hand, the only one of its kind in the world. Just one piece from the ensemble could buy her entire mansion—no, even more than that.

And yet, in her eyes, it was worthless.

Ignorance wasn't the scariest thing. What was truly terrifying was not realizing you had already dug your own grave.

Her arrogance only made the others admire her more. One by one, they looked at her with envy.

"Mabel, you're amazing! That jacket is a limited edition this year. Money alone isn't enough to buy it."

"Oh, my God! I'm so lucky to be a former classmate of Mabel!"

"Celia, just kneel already and be Mabel's most loyal dog."

Their laughter grew louder, and their words grew bolder, feeding Mabel's ego.

Mabel was drunk on their praise, completely blinded by her arrogance. She soaked up the attention, basking in every second of their admiration. But even as she enjoyed being worshipped, she hadn't forgotten to humiliate me.

"What's wrong, Celia? Weren't you acting all tough just now? Are you scared now?"

She jabbed my shoulder with her sharp nails. "You've got two choices. Either kneel and be my dog, or I'll ruin your clothes. Not that it matters… They're trash anyway."

My fists clenched on their own, and my temples pulsed with anger. "You wouldn't dare."

Mabel hadn't expected me to still refuse. Her expression twisted into something ugly, her patience snapping.

Without hesitation, she grabbed a glass of red wine and dumped it on me.

But that wasn't enough. She picked up handfuls of meat from her plate and hurled them at me.

Within seconds, my hair and clothes were completely soaked—wine, broth, and oil staining every inch of fabric. Not a single clean spot remained.

Mabel casually pulled out a napkin, wiping her hands like she had just finished a chore. Her voice oozed arrogance and triumph as she stated, "This is what happens when you mess with me, Celia. You were getting way too full of yourself, so consider this a lesson."

The classmates who had been kissing up to her whistled and cheered. "Mabel, you're amazing!"

I didn't stop her. The only sound in the room was my phone, which was ringing nonstop on the table.

Without a word, I picked it up and answered, "Sorry. I won't be able to make it on time. Have the business partner come to me instead. I'm at the Silver Key Business Club. Yeah, the one under Silver Key Holdings."

The moment I hung up, Mabel was still admiring her handiwork, staring at the mess she had made of my clothes.

"Celia, that rag is completely ruined. You might as well just take it off."

Honestly, I wanted to laugh.

She wasn't wrong. It was ruined. This kind of fabric couldn't be washed. The oil stains had destroyed it.

I let out a slow sigh, then spoke, "You have no idea, do you? This outfit was handmade by Vixen himself. It's one of a kind. Just this one piece alone could buy your entire wardrobe."

Mabel still looked completely unbothered. "Oh, please. Do you think I'd believe that? Look at how plain it is. How expensive could it possibly be?"

But before I could answer, someone in the room suddenly shouted, "Oh, my God, look outside! This is insane!"

Everyone immediately turned to the window.

Outside, more than a dozen world-class luxury cars had pulled up. One after another, men in sharp suits stepped out and strode directly toward us.

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