Dark Revenge Of A Jilted Bride: Till Life Do Us Part!-Chapter 98: Jungle Justice? II

For a second, Sabrina was disoriented.

The world tilted, then stilled, like a camera losing focus before snapping back in.

She didn’t understand what was going on—what she was doing sitting in a car with a driver, why she was suddenly wondering what the man wanted, what he meant by saying her family was on the way to being ridden by poverty.

The words replayed in her head, jarring and unreal. What did he even know about them? How did he even know? And what, exactly, was happening on the socials while her life seemed to be unraveling in real time?

Her hand reached for her bag automatically, muscle memory taking over before thought could intervene.

When she realized—again—that the bag was gone, lost somewhere between running for her life and flying into this cab, another curse tore from her lips, sharper this time, louder.

Loud enough to make the driver smile.

That smile drew Sabrina up short.

"What is funny?" she snapped, her voice brittle.

"Your face," the driver said easily, still smiling, his fingers lifting in a small, almost lazy gesture toward the red-stained paste crusted along her cheek and collarbone.

"Are you that annoyed your phone is gone?"

Sabrina’s brows furrowed, confusion colliding with irritation. "Who are you?"

Instinct screamed at her then. Her hand flew to the door handle—but it didn’t budge. She pulled again, harder. Nothing.

Panic slammed into her chest.

"What the hell!" she screamed, yanking at the handle again. "Let me out of here!"

The man laughed, a deep, amused sound, and turned fully in his seat to look at her as she struggled, frantic now, breath coming too fast.

"Oh, this will be fun..."

Sabrina’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. The fear surged when she saw his gaze travel over her, slow and assessing. Her stomach twisted violently.

"Don’t do that!" she finally screamed when he licked his lips.

"Oh, don’t worry..." The man waved her off dismissively, as though she were being ridiculous. "I’m not doing anything like that. You’re too dirty—and I don’t want to stain myself with tomato paste."

That—absurdly—calmed her.

Her lungs drew in a shaky breath. She wasn’t going to be raped. This wasn’t karma for trying to do the same to her cousin.

A short, hysterical laugh burst from her lips before she could stop it. Then she frowned when she noticed the man watching her, one brow raised, clearly amused.

"So," she said hoarsely, forcing steadiness back into her voice, "what do you want? Who are you?"

The man shrugged and leaned forward, reaching into the space between the driver’s seat and the passenger seat. He picked up a stray can and flexed it once in his hand.

Sabrina shrank back instinctively, her spine pressing into the seat. Her frantic eyes caught the label.

Pepper spray.

Her heart slammed violently against her ribs. What insane company made a can this big? For what purpose?

"What... what are you doing?" Her voice quaked. Her hand flew to the window, striking it hard, again and again, trying to make noise.

Even as she did it, she knew it was futile.

The high gate and towering fence separating the mansion from the outside world loomed just beyond the glass. No one was going to hear her scream—not here. Not now.

The man laughed again, clearly enjoying himself. "Doing what my boss told me to do."

Her head snapped toward him. "Boss?"

"Did you think I was your savior?" he continued, chuckling darkly. "I don’t think you’ll have any in this place... in this city, at least. Your name is soiled—and so is your family."

Sabrina frowned, dread crawling up her spine. "What about my family?"

The man shrugged again, casual, as though he were discussing the weather. "Well, your act made people dig. You know how reporters can be. Turns out your father’s company is drowning in debt. It’s all over the news now. And if he can’t make a turnaround soon enough, he’ll be blacklisted out of the industry."

He paused, then added almost cheerfully, "I’d say kudos to the reporters."

Sabrina couldn’t breathe.

Her mind reeled, struggling to process the words. Why were things falling apart like this? When had this even happened? How could everything go from bad to worse in the space of a few hours?

Her hand reached for her phone again, pure habit, and she froze midway before letting out a strangled curse.

"Give up," the man said lightly. "You won’t get your phone again. Next time, you’ll think before you threaten my boss."

Boss.

The word echoed in her head. Confused, Sabrina opened her mouth to ask who he meant—but she never got the chance.

The first blast of pepper spray hit her face.

From frying pan to fire, her mind screamed wildly as pain exploded across her skin.

She screamed too, a raw, piercing sound, as her eyes burned viciously—especially where the spray struck directly. She punched at the window, at the air, at him, flailing blindly, but all she succeeded in doing was earning more spray.

Again. And again.

She screamed until her voice cracked and went hoarse, bowing her head, hands clawing uselessly at her face and hair while the burning intensified.

Her lungs seized as she inhaled, coughing violently, her nose and throat on fire, eyes swelling, tears streaming uncontrollably.

If she didn’t get out, she was going to die.

"Please..." she muttered weakly.

She barely registered the sounds that followed—the driver’s door opening, then hers. Rough hands grabbed her, dragging her out into the open air.

"Courtesy of Esme Newman," the man said coldly. "Next time, don’t threaten someone higher than you."

Shock rooted Sabrina in place even after the car sped away.

Esme.

Esme had done this to her. She had sent the men with the tomatoes—of that Sabrina was certain. She had taken her phone too.

Sabrina dragged herself forward, crawling when she realized no one was coming for her. She couldn’t reach her family. And even if someone passed by this private street—which was unlikely—she doubted they would help her.

If the driver was right, her family house was about to be swarmed by reporters.

That thought pushed her onward.

The reporters might be crazy enough to come here. Esme might even send them.

Rage joined the pain, fueling her movement. She gritted her teeth, eyes streaming with tears caused by pepper and fury alike, sneezes wracking her body. She had to get to the gate.

How dare Esme?

She grunted with every movement, sobbing in relief when she finally reached the gate. The burning on her skin screamed for release, but instead she picked up a stone from the ground and struck the metal gate with it.

Once. Twice.

Footsteps approached.

"It’s Sabrina," she called out hoarsely before anyone could speak.

Then her strength gave out, and she collapsed hard onto the ground.