Boyfriend's New Year "Surprise": He Sold Me to My Uncle

Gabriel's expression darkened instantly. "What did you say?"

He grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked my head back, forcing me to look up at him. "Evelyn Harper, you'd better think carefully before you speak."

Sharp pain shot through my scalp, but I clenched my jaw. "I said I won't help you. What you're doing is illegal. I'm going to call the police."

A loud crack rang out as Gabriel slapped me hard across the face.

My vision went dark, my ears rang, and the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth.

Gabriel gritted his teeth. "Don't push your luck! Who do you think you are? You're just a dancer. You should be grateful that you get to pay off my debt!"

Zoe kicked me. "Exactly. Stop acting like you're better than us. You should feel honored that my son even took an interest in you."

Benjamin spoke up from the side. "Don't hit her face. If you ruin it, it's over for us."

Only then did Gabriel let go. I lay face down on the cold floor, gasping for air.

He crouched and grabbed my chin. "Evelyn, I'm asking you one last time—are you going to cooperate or not?"

I stared at him and said slowly, "Not a chance."

Gabriel sneered and stood up, walking toward me. "Fine. You're a dancer, aren't you? You want to fulfill your mom's wish, don't you?"

He lifted his foot and brought it down hard on my shin. A sharp pain shot through me, and I cried out.

He ground his foot into it. "If your leg breaks, you'll never dance again. I heard that your mom's biggest wish before she died was to see you perform on an international stage. What a shame—"

Fear surged through me in an instant.

Mom had been one of the top dancers in the country, but she had passed away at the height of her career due to her illness. I had trained hard in dance since childhood, hoping to carry on her legacy.

My voice began to shake. "No… please don't hurt my leg."

Zoe scoffed. "Are you scared now? You were acting so tough a moment ago."

Gabriel raised his foot and crouched back down. "Then do as I say and impress him when you meet him later. As long as you pay off my debt, I'll still marry you. Things can go back to the way they were."

I closed my eyes as tears slipped down my face before I could stop them.

Zoe nodded in satisfaction. "That's more like it. Go clean her up. She's a mess. She can't meet anyone looking like that."

Gabriel hauled me roughly off the floor and dragged me toward the bathroom attached to the reception room.

I tried to pull away. "I can do it myself."

He pushed me into the bathroom. "Shut up. Your makeup is smeared all over. You look like a mess."

He grabbed me by the hair and shoved my face under the faucet. The cold water made me shiver violently, washing away my makeup in a messy blur.

Gabriel picked up the hand soap from the sink and smeared it directly onto my face.

I choked and coughed. "Stop!"

"Scrub your face clean so Mr. Kensington can inspect it later," he ordered. "You look so much like her. That's why I went after you back then; your face resembles Mr. Kensington's woman."

My heart sank completely. So that was it. Our three-year relationship had been nothing but a scheme from the start.

Gabriel rinsed the soap off and roughly dried my face with a towel. Then he started tearing at my clothes.

I threw my arms over my chest in panic. "What are you doing?"

He answered, "Your outfit is too conservative. You need something sexier."

He pulled a low-cut black dress from the bag he had brought. "Put this on."

"I won't!" I shouted.

Gabriel's gaze turned cold. "You won't? Then don't blame me for doing it myself."

He wrenched the buttons of my cashmere coat open. I screamed and fought back, but he struck me across the face.

"Stay still!" he snapped.

A knock suddenly sounded on the bathroom door.

Zoe's voice came from outside. "Gabriel, hurry up! Mr. Kensington's people are coming over."

Gabriel paused and glared at me fiercely. "You're lucky."

He dragged me out of the bathroom and shoved me back down onto the carpet in the reception room.

The door opened, and several men in black suits walked in. The man at the front was in his early 30s, a scar cutting across his face, his gaze icy.

The scarred man glanced at me. "Mr. Kensington will be here shortly. Have you cleaned her up?"

Benjamin quickly put on a flattering smile. "Yes, she's all cleaned up, Mr. Donovan. Take a look—doesn't she look just like Mr. Kensington's woman?"

The man they called Mr. Donovan stepped closer and crouched down, studying my face carefully.

My heart raced. Was this Mason Donovan, the new subordinate of my uncle, Sebastian Kensington?

Uncle Sebastian had only mentioned him once. He said Mason had only been with him for about six months, ruthless in getting things done but still not familiar with our family's affairs.

It was over. He had no idea who I was.