"The Gilded Cage: Playing with Fire" Chapter 1
Chapter 1: The Blood-Stained Man
My cousin asked me how she could snag a rich man.
I told her that if you want to land a wealthy guy, the very first thing you need to do is know when to stop and never get too greedy for money.
That single rule alone filters out most girls.
Just the other day, a younger girl I know asked me to introduce her to a sugar daddy.
She was beautiful, and the wealthy man took a liking to her instantly.
But after they started dating, and once she got the car and the apartment she wanted, she grew bold enough to start plotting to force his wife out and take her place.
The rich man snapped immediately.
His wife had built everything with him from scratch through thick and thin, so who did this little brat think she was trying to drive a wedge between them?
He took back the apartment and seized the car. Without even showing his face, he hired a few thugs to throw her out of the neighborhood.
Not a single luxury item was left with her, her cards were all frozen, and he threatened anyone who dared to help her.
After sleeping on the streets for three days, the girl vanished.
Later, someone said they saw a glimpse of her working at a cheap street corner motel, leaving everyone sighing with pity.
This kind of ending is all too common in our circle.
Even knowing it is a fiery pit, countless women still rush into it blindly.
They only crave one thing: money.
I am just like them, a creature trapped in the same gilded cage.
The only difference is that I used to be a daughter of a wealthy family before we lost everything, which forced me into this life.
For eight years, the man behind me has never changed.
He had already established a formidable reputation in this circle back when he was still young.
Later, everyone who knew me knew I had powerful backing, but no one ever found out who my man actually was.
Yet they would respectfully call me Lady Chloe to my face, and that was enough for me.
Usually, the wealthy socialite wives in the circle love to gather for casual parties when they are bored, but I never liked going and would avoid them as much as possible.
Most people who survive in this circle are foxes, and you never know when someone might stab you in the back.
However, I have a completely innocent best friend named Sera, who suddenly came to me the other day saying her boyfriend had dumped her and demanding that we go party at a club all night.
It just so happened that my man was away on a business trip, so after a moment of thought, I agreed.
Sera went wild that night, and once she got completely drunk, she even hired a male model to keep her company.
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I sat alone drinking until I felt lightheaded, yet a strange uneasiness kept gnawing at my mind.
Taking advantage of a trip to the restroom, I wanted to call my driver Logan to come pick me up, but right then, chaos broke out in the club.
It looked like a violent clash between two rival gangs.
The outside became as loud and chaotic as a crowded market, so I hid inside a stall to call Logan.
Hearing the noise outside die down a bit, I was just about to head out and check when a man rushed into the women's restroom and pinned me straight against the wall.
I froze in shock and tried to struggle, but a cold gun barrel was instantly pressed against my forehead.
"Stay quiet." The man's face was covered in blood, making it impossible to see his features, but the sheer viciousness in his eyes made me shudder.
In the dead silence, a barrage of heavy footsteps echoed from outside.
"Damn it, I just saw him running this way. Where the hell did he hide?"
"When we catch him this time, we cut his hamstrings first!"
Hearing more and more footsteps approaching, I knew I was caught in massive trouble, and my legs began to feel weak. "Sir, whether you want money or anything else, I'll give it to you."
The heavy, suffocating scent of blood radiating from him almost buried me alive.
He didn't reply, using the gun to shove me deeper into the stall.
The moment the stall door slammed shut, someone kicked open the main entrance of the women's restroom and barged right in.
The footsteps outside felt as if they were right at my ears.
"The kid wouldn't actually run into the women's restroom, would he?"
"Search them one by one! I refuse to believe we can't smoke him out."
The man stared at me coldly, his thin lips pressing close to my ear, his voice barely a breath: "If you don't want to die, do exactly as I say."
Chapter 2: Keep Your Mouth Shut
I nodded my head like a chicken pecking at grain because in the face of death, pride means absolutely nothing.
"Moan."
He flipped me around roughly, his large palm smacking my backside twice as my short skirt was hitched up to my waist in an instant.
The man's suppressed, heavy breathing suddenly echoed inside the silent stall, and I immediately understood his intent, letting out soft, breathless moans.
"Holy shit, people are actually doing it in here?"
Someone outside spat in disgust, followed by a heavy pounding on the stall door.
"Open up."
My temples throbbed violently as I glanced at the man, whose gaze remained icy, sharp like a blade.
Steeling my nerves, I pitched my voice high and shouted out.
"What the hell are you screaming for in the middle of the night? Can't you hear a woman taking care of business? Have some damn shame!"
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"Oh, the chick is quite wild. Hurry up and open the door, we're looking for someone."
A wave of crude laughter erupted outside, and though my heart was hammering with terror, I kept my stance rigid and snapped back.
"Look for your damn mother! Your grandmother has been in here for half an hour, what do you mean looking for someone?"
I noticed the man behind me darken slightly at my words, and the guy shouting outside got so provoked by my attitude that he began cursing and slamming the door panel.
Yet his companion kept pulling him back: "Come on, the old lady finally managed to hook a young piece of meat, why are we interfering? Don't waste your time on a woman like this."
With that, the group rowdily shuffled away, and after a long while, everything finally sank back into complete silence.
The man at last released his suffocating grip on me, murmuring a quiet thank you before turning to slip away.
By the time I regained my senses, my legs gave out completely, and I collapsed straight onto the toilet seat.
Just then, Logan called to tell me he had arrived, so I stumbled out of the club and got straight into the car.
"Mrs. Christian, you—"
Logan glanced at me, completely bewildered.
I looked down and panicked instantly.
The blood from that man had rubbed all over me at some point, leaving even the car seat stained with streaks of crimson.
I looked at Logan, grabbing a handful of cash from my bag and shoving it toward him.
"Don't breathe a word about tonight to anyone."
The man who bought me was a notoriously jealous type, and tonight I had lied to him saying I was going out to get my hair done, so if he caught me fooling around at a club, he would absolutely break my legs.
Logan shook his head repeatedly: "I can't, ma'am, this kind of thing..."
Before he could finish, I cut him off sharply: "Don't think I don't know what you've been up to outside. If you cross me, you won't have a good ending either."
Logan was an absolute piece of trash who had cheated on his pregnant wife, taking his mistress abroad for a vacation under the guise of a business trip, and I was the one who had helped secure the mistress's visa.
Logan's face shifted instantly, and he snatched the money with a resentful glare.
When I returned home, I felt as though my bones were falling apart.
I packed the blood-stained clothes tightly away and sent Logan another 3,000 to get the car thoroughly washed.
Logan accepted the money but didn't reply to my message.
That whole night, I couldn't find a moment of peaceful sleep.
But life only remained quiet for a few days before I received a phone call a week later.
He was back.
He mentioned that his father-in-law had visited recently, so he couldn't spend time with me, instructing me to meet him at a certain company tomorrow morning.
That very night, I dragged Sera along to storm the mall, picking out a decent, professional-looking pantsuit.
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