The hospital's fluorescent lights hummed a death march as Luna filled the stainless steel kettle. Shadows pooled in the corridor's recesses, coalescing into two hulking forms that blocked the boiler room's exit.
"Pretty thing shouldn't wander alone," the first man crooned, gold-capped teeth glinting. His companion's tattooed knuckles whitened around a chloroform-soaked rag reeking of chemical rot.
Luna's phone clattered to the linoleum as she twisted, elbow connecting with a solar plexus. The second assailant's grip faltered - long enough for her to glimpse the security camera's shattered lens above the door.
"Feisty bitch!" Fingers like iron rebar clamped her windpipe. "We'll see how you squirm without air."
The rag descended. Luna's final breath tasted of antiseptic and betrayal before darkness swallowed her consciousness.
Across town, Liyun's manicured thumb hovered over her smartphone. The incoming MMS preview showed pixelated flesh - a faceless man's torso obscuring a woman's limp form, chestnut hair fanned across concrete.
"Mother, is it done?" Xiaodie's pupils dilated with meth-fueled anticipation, chipped nail polish scraping the pearls at her throat.
Liyun forwarded the image to twelve WeChat groups. "Let the wolves feast."
Within minutes, hashtags metastasized:
#XiaHeiressOrgy
#ThornManorWhore
#CuckoldedCorpseHusband
Anonymous accounts dissected the blurry stills with surgical cruelty:
"Third man from the left - that's Old Chen's bodyguard! She'll fuck anything with a pulse!"
"No wonder Thorn croaked - couldn't satisfy this greedy cunt!"
Xiaodie's laughter skittered like cockroaches across marble floors. "Let's mail Grandmother Xia the HD versions! I want her to see Luna's legs spread while she chokes on her heart medication!"
In the abandoned textile mill, Polaroid flashes froze Luna's bound form in grotesque tableaux. The lead assailant adjusted the tripod, cigarette ash snowing onto her bare shoulder.
"Hold her head up," his partner grunted, repositioning her limp hand on a stranger's belt buckle. "Make it look like she's begging for it."
Moonlight through broken windows striped Luna's eyelids. Somewhere beyond the narcotic haze, survival instincts stirred - a cornered animal's last gambit taking shape behind feigned unconsciousness.
Thorn Manor's library resonated with the crack of Caleb's fist against mahogany. Jaden's tablet glowed with censored Weibo threads, each deleted post resurrecting through VPNs and dark web mirrors.
"They're using Russian bot farms to bypass our takedowns," the hacker muttered, fingers flying across three keyboards. "The origin IP traces to -"
"Burn it all." Caleb's voice could've frozen hell. "Every server farm, every shadow host. I want their digital graves salted."
Xander materialized in the doorway, combat knives gleaming. "Let me handle the physical cleanup."
"Alive." The order sliced through the room. "She'll want to peel their skin herself."
As the mercenary vanished, Caleb stared at the most damning photo - Luna's crescent-shaped birthmark visible above the rope burns. His signet ring drew blood from his palm.
The game had escalated beyond business rivalries. This was war.
The press conference hall thrummed with the predatory buzz of journalists, camera flashes strobing like electric fireflies. Liyun dabbed a lace handkerchief at dry eyes, her performance of maternal grief undermined by the triumphant glint beneath lowered lashes. Richard stood rigid at the podium, his Gucci tie knotted like a noose.
"The Xia family," he intoned, knuckles whitening on the microphone, "will no longer tolerate the depravity Luna Xia has brought upon our name. Effective immediately—"
A commotion erupted at the rear doors. A junior reporter's shout sliced through the theatrics: "Lila Chen just dropped a truth bomb on Weibo!"
Xiaodie's manicured thumb trembled as she refreshed the app. The viral post loaded—a sun-drenched tableau that stole the breath from the room.
@Lila_ChenOfficial: When your soul sister flies 3,000 km to drag you from depression (and remind the internet how Photoshop works).
The attached photo burned through screens like divine retribution: Luna and Lila ankle-deep in turquoise surf, golden hour gilding their laughter. Luna's scarred shoulder caught the light defiantly, baring the crescent-shaped birthmark conspicuously absent from the scandal photos.
Comments cascaded in real time:
"4K resolution vs. potato-quality fakes? The math ain't mathing."
"Southern Luna's unedited glow could blind the sun. North's Lila ain't slacking either!"
"Y'all really thought a goddess needs three meth-heads? I've seen better Photoshop at the DMV."
Liyun's Botox mask cracked. "This… this is AI-generated!" she hissed, but the lie curdled in the air.
Across the city, Lila lounged in her pentress, live-streaming to 20 million followers. "Babe @LunaXThorn," she purred, buffing her nails, "next time someone forges your nudes, make sure they use your good side. The birthmark's chef's kiss for debunking."
In the hospital boiler room, Luna stirred beneath frayed ropes. Her captors' phones buzzed like angry hornets, flooding with notifications of their impending doom.
"The fuck?" Thug #1 paled at Caleb Thorn's trending hashtag:
#ThornVowsBloodDebt
His associate dropped the camera. "We're dead men."
Luna's lashes fluttered open, lips curving beneath the gag. You have no idea, she thought, flexing against her bonds.
The tides had turned.