Publicly Humiliated by the Woman I Loved

The value of that suit was beyond money.

It stood for a promise, a grand dream Victoria once wove for me.

I closed my eyes.

I could almost see the light in Victoria’s eyes as she looked at me wearing the “Aurora” suit on our engagement day.

She said, “Henry, I think all the luck in my life was spent on meeting you.”

I never doubted Victoria’s sincerity toward me.

Only now did I understand that sincerity never lasts.

I lay down on the sofa, exhausted.

A maid quickly brought warm water and a soft towel and gently wiped my face.

The towel was changed again and again, rubbing until my skin began to ache.

Yet the blue words seemed to sink into my skin, leaving a faint mark, like a birthmark that wouldn’t fade.

My phone started vibrating nonstop.

There were over ten messages from friends.

“That Summer pretty boy—has he lost his mind?!”

Below was a link and a photo being shared everywhere.

In the photo, I was turned sideways, my face frozen between shock and anger.

The bold blue words on my face—“Pork Quality, Grade A”—were painfully clear.

My hair was messy. I looked utterly humiliated.

The post was from Jason.

It had only one line, with a laughing emoji:

“Some people get too serious when they’re old. A small joke and they lose it.”

“It’s better to be young—no burden, just fun~.”

My friend called right away.

“It’s spread through the whole circle. The comments aren’t too bad, but…”

He paused.

I understood.

My dignity was gone.

I opened my mouth to say I was fine.

But my throat felt stuffed with wet cotton. No sound came out.

I took a deep breath and forced my voice steady. “I’ll handle it.”

Then I hung up.

Almost at the same time, footsteps sounded outside the villa.

More than ten bodyguards in black walked in and threw Jason to the floor.

He steadied himself and suddenly looked up.

“Henry Xavier, all you know is how to bully people with your family’s power, right?!”

“Without your family, what are you?!”

I slowly sat up on the sofa and looked at him.

I even let out a soft laugh.

“Jason, my name is Henry.”

He froze, clearly not understanding why I said that.

I paused, watching the blood drain from his face.

“You should know what the ‘Xavier’ in Henry means.”

Jason’s lips began to shake.

Of course, he knew.

In New York, the Xavier family was something untouchable, a height he could never reach.

He forced himself to sit up, his voice trembling.

“I… I just wore one of your suits! What’s the big deal?! I’ll give it back!”

He fumbled to unbutton his jacket.

“No need.”

“I don’t want dirty clothes.”

I stood, walked slowly towards him, and looked down.

“Dirty people, too.”

“I, Henry, don’t want those either.”

Jason froze, his hand stuck in midair, his face pale.

At that moment, a large cardboard box was carried in.

Inside was a full box of pork stamps.