My Fiancé Stripped Me for His Bestie. So I Ruined Him

During an outdoor game, my fiancé's best friend deliberately tackled me to the ground. Pretending she was searching me for game loot, she ripped my clothes off and sneered at me with disgust: "What are you acting so innocent for? Everyone knows you're just a tease." Furious, I grabbed a sharp rock, ready to bash her skull in. But before I could, my fiancé shot a modded paintball gun directly at my wrist, fracturing it. Shielding his precious best friend behind his back, he mocked me, "It's just a game. How can you be so vicious, trying to hurt her with a rock?" Suppressed by the pain and humiliation, I pushed myself up. "Do you have any idea what she just said to me?" "So what if she teased you a bit? It was just a joke." A joke? I didn't argue. I just nodded. I guess I'd been too nice to him lately. So nice that he forgot I was the princess of the Vance Syndicate. That very night, I had him kidnapped. I hired a dozen filthy street thugs to give him a taste of his own medicine, making sure they took turns with him all night long. My fiancé, Julian Hale, brought his "best friend" along to our date again. The girl, sporting a sharp pixie cut and an oversized men's leather jacket, bypassed me entirely and walked straight to Julian the second she entered. She casually threw her arm around his neck and slid into the booth right next to him. Reaching over, she grabbed Julian's coffee cup and took a huge, messy gulp. "Ugh, so bitter. How do you drink this stuff? Come on, Julian, light a cigarette for me." My brows furrowed at the sight. I spoke up, cold and direct. "I don't like the smell of smoke." "Oh, look, Julian. Your little fiancée is acting jealous again," Chloe Sterling teased, nudging his chest with her elbow. Julian only gave her a fond, indulgent look. When he turned to me, his eyes went cold. "Can you stop overreacting? We're just friends." I let out a cold laugh, watching Chloe practically melt into his chest. Friends like this? Quite an eye-opener. But I didn't make a scene. As the sole heiress of the Vance Syndicate, our families were deeply tied in business. No matter how much I detested his little tag-along, I was willing to turn a blind eye as long as she didn't cross my red line. That afternoon, Julian organized a group hangout. The venue was the largest tactical paintball park on the outskirts of the city. I had no interest in running around in the mud, but Julian's mother had begged me to go. She even gave my family a lucrative real estate project just to have me keep an eye on her reckless son. For the sake of the contract, I showed up. Still, I spent most of the time just walking through the woods in my tactical gear, waiting for the game timer to run out. Suddenly, a wild shadow burst out from the waist-high bushes beside me. Before I could react, the sheer force of the impact slammed me to the ground. Someone sat heavily on my stomach, making me gag. My back dragged against the muddy earth, scraping painfully. Bitter, dirty water splashed into my eyes and mouth. A screechy female laugh exploded in my ear. "Sera! Found you!" Wiping the mud off my face, I glared up and recognized the intruder. My voice dropped to sub-zero temperatures. "Chloe, what the hell do you think you're doing? Get off." "Get off? We're in the middle of a war, sweetie! You're my prisoner now!" "Let's see what kind of loot you're hiding under here." Grinning like a lunatic, she reached out and aggressively grabbed the collar of my tactical jacket. I wasn't in the mood for her games. "I don't have any loot. And even if I did, it wouldn't be hidden in my clothes." Chloe ignored me completely and yanked hard. The zipper of my jacket snapped open with a sharp pop. I thought she was just being her usual reckless, boundary-crossing self. Annoyed, I tried to push her off. "It's just a game, Chloe. Don't cross the line!" But a second later, I realized how wrong I was. She wasn't playing a game. Staring at the silk camisole exposed beneath my jacket, a flash of pure, ugly jealousy ran through her eyes. "Yeah, it's just a game. That's why I have to check you thoroughly." Then, she reached out with both hands and grabbed the fabric of my camisole. The sound of tearing fabric cut through the quiet forest like a whip.The cold wind hit my bare chest instantly. My pale skin and the lace edge of my bra were completely exposed to the open air. I froze. My mind went blank for two solid seconds. From not far away, a flurry of footsteps approached. Julian and his wealthy trust-fund friends walked down the slope, catching the entire scene red-handed. More than a dozen pairs of eyes stared straight at my exposed chest. One guy even let out a low, disgusting whistle. Instead of letting go, Chloe turned around and yelled up at Julian on the hill. "Julian! You're one lucky bastard!" "I just did a manual inspection for you. She's got some real assets!" The crowd burst into roaring laughter. The laughter felt like loud, mocking slaps across my face. I looked at Chloe, who was still sitting on top of me. Every line of her face screamed smug satisfaction. This was her goal. She wanted to use the dirtiest, most humiliating way to crush me under her boots in front of Julian's entire social circle. To strip me of my dignity. To turn me into a cheap joke for men to drool over. Humiliation fused with a blinding rage, vaporizing my sanity. I didn't cry. I didn't scream. With a blank face, I reached into the mud beside me and gripped a heavy, jagged rock. To hell with the business alliance. To hell with being a proper lady. I was going to crack this bitch's skull open today. I raised my arm, aiming the rock straight at Chloe's smug face. BANG! A deafening shot echoed through the woods. Instantly, a sharp, bone-crushing pain exploded in my right wrist. My hand went limp, and the rock rolled into the muddy water. The sheer impact made me gasp for air as I collapsed back into the mud. I clutched my wrist, and a bright red liquid oozed through my fingers. It wasn't blood, but the red paint from a paintball. However, the modded, solid-shell paintball had hit my wrist bone at high velocity. It was already swelling into a horrific, dark purple knot. My wrist looked like a bloated balloon, throbbing with agonizing spasms at the slightest touch. Pale and trembling, I turned my head. Ten yards away. Julian stood there, holding a heavy, modded paintball rifle, a wisp of gray smoke rising from the barrel. He looked down at me. There wasn't a shred of concern or pity in his eyes for his humiliated fiancée. Only annoyance and disgust. He tossed the gun to someone nearby and marched down the slope. Yanking Chloe up from the ground, he carefully checked her to see if she had gotten any mud on herself. Then, shielding her behind him, he looked at me as if I were a psychopath. "Sera, have you lost your mind?" Julian growled, his voice freezing cold.Using my uninjured left hand, I painfully pulled my torn clothes together, clutching them tightly over my chest. I looked up at the man who was supposed to be my future husband. "I lost my mind?" My voice was hoarse, but every word was crystal clear. "She tackled me in the mud, ripped my clothes off, and turned me into a strip show for your friends." "Julian, are you fucking blind?" Julian let out a mocking scoff, as if he had just heard the funniest joke in the world. He took a step forward, looking down at me with supreme disdain. "Sera, do you have a victim complex?" "We're all just having fun. Chloe is a girl too. What could she possibly do to you?" "So what if she touched you a bit? You're screaming so loud, it's like you want everyone to know how desperate you are for attention, huh?" Behind him, Chloe poked her head out, smirking. "Exactly. I was just joking." "If you're going to be such a drama queen, how are you ever going to fit into our circle?" The other rich heirs chimed in. "Yeah, Chloe hangs out with us in the hot springs all the time. She's basically one of the guys." "Making a scene over something this small... what a buzzkill." I looked at the crowd. I looked at their ugly, mocking faces, and at Julian's arrogant "apologize or I'm calling off the wedding" stance. The pain in my wrist kept throbbing, sending waves of heat up my arm. If I were the old Sera, the one who tolerated everything for the sake of family business, I would have burst into tears or stormed off in humiliation. But I didn't. I slowly stood up from the mud. I didn't look at Chloe. I kept my eyes locked on Julian. Suddenly, the corners of my lips twitched up into a smile. When rage reaches its peak, it turns into a terrifying, eerie calm. "Fine." I nodded, my voice quiet but carrying perfectly to everyone present. "So, stripping someone to 'verify the goods'... is just a joke." "I get it." Without another word, I turned around. Dragging my mud-covered, aching body, I walked out of the woods step by step. Julian sneered behind me. "Good. Go home, change your clothes, and stop embarrassing yourself. Call me when you've cooled down." I ignored him. I walked to the parking lot, climbed into my heavy-duty SUV, and shut the door. I didn't drive home. Instead, I pulled out my phone and dialed a number. It rang three times before a lazy, dangerous male voice answered. "What's up? Finally decided to dump that idiot Julian?" It was Tristan Cole, my childhood friend, the Vance Syndicate's top enforcer, and the most feared man in the city's underbelly. I looked down at my horribly swollen wrist, my voice completely flat. "Trsten." "Bring ten of your most loyal, quiet guys to meet me." "And while you're at it, head down to the slums under the Westside highway." "Hire fifteen of the dirtiest, biggest, most starved street thugs you can find." There was a two-second silence on the other end. Then, Tristan let out a low, highly amused chuckle. "Understood, Princess. I'm on it."