Chapter 29
Violet's POV
But I would never compromise.
I took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the soreness in my eyes, and turned to start packing.
I didn't have much luggage—a few changes of clothes and some cheap daily necessities that quickly filled a worn canvas suitcase.
I carefully placed the new violin into the dark red carbon fiber case and strapped it tightly on my shoulder.
At one in the morning, I was kicked out of the apartment building by the landlord.
The early winter wind cut across my face like a knife, painfully sharp.
I dragged my suitcase, walking on Brooklyn's empty, dilapidated streets.
At this hour, the music academy dormitory had long passed curfew—I couldn't get in at all. My phone battery was only at twenty percent. I could only search the map for the nearest cheap motel to get through the night.
The streetlights flickered on and off, casting mottled shadows.
The suitcase wheels scraped against the rough asphalt road, making a harsh noise.
On the empty street, this sound was like a living target, announcing my helplessness.
After walking two blocks, I suddenly stopped.
The hair on the back of my neck stood up.
That instinct of being watched by a venomous snake made me go cold all over.
I whipped my head around to see, several dozen meters away at the street corner, three men in dark hoodies slowly following behind me.
Seeing me stop, they stopped too. One of them even brazenly whistled at me flippantly.
My heart instantly jumped to my throat.
Brooklyn late at night, several street thugs targeting a lone girl—I knew all too well what this meant.
I quickened my pace, cold sweat seeping from my palms.
I quickly pulled out my phone and dialed 911.
"This is 911 emergency dispatch, how can I help you?"
"I'm being followed! At the intersection of 4th Avenue and 15th Street in Brooklyn!" I lowered my voice, my tone urgent and terrified, "There are three people, they keep following me!"
"Ma'am, please stay calm. The nearest patrol car will take about fifteen minutes to reach your location. Please try to walk toward areas with light and people."
Fifteen minutes? In Brooklyn late at night, fifteen minutes was enough for these thugs to drag me into any dark alley and tear me apart!
Hanging up, I looked at the remaining battery on my screen, my brain racing.
Julian's black business card was lying in my pocket. As long as I dialed that number, he would definitely send someone to save me.
But just hours ago, I had refused his financial support, swearing I didn't want to be his burden. How could I have the nerve to ask him for help now?
I didn't want him to see me in this wretched state, like a homeless dog.
I didn't want him to think I was a waste who only caused trouble and always needed him to clean up my messes.
My pitiful, remaining self-esteem desperately held back my hand.
In desperation, my finger slid to Ethan's name in my contacts.
He had just left not long ago—maybe he was still nearby? No matter how much he hated me, we had been together for three years. Surely he wouldn't just watch me die on the streets.
Gritting my teeth, I dialed that number I thought I'd never call again in my life.
The phone rang for a long time before being answered.
"What now?" Ethan's voice was full of impatience and condescending mockery, "Can't stand the cold wind already? Ready to come to the hospital and admit your mistake?"
"Ethan! I'm being followed!" I said desperately into the phone while walking quickly forward, "Near 15th Street, three thugs are following me! The police won't be here for another fifteen minutes, can you..."
"Enough, Violet." Ethan coldly interrupted me, his tone full of disgust, "Do you think I'm stupid? To avoid apologizing to Sienna, you'd even make up such a clumsy lie?"
"I'm not lying! They're right behind me!" I was so anxious tears were about to fall, my voice trembling with fear.
"Still acting?" Ethan sneered coldly, his voice as cruel as a blunt knife, "You think using this kind of victim act will win my sympathy? Will make me let you off? Violet, stop wasting your energy. Your cheap tricks really make me sick. You remember this—compared to Sienna, you're nothing. Stop bothering me with these boring games."
"Beep—beep—"
The phone was mercilessly hung up.
The cold wind swept up fallen leaves from the ground. I stood on the dark street, holding the now black-screened phone, suddenly feeling utterly absurd.
The man I had loved for three years, at a life-and-death moment, would rather believe I was acting than spare even a second of concern.
My last remnant of hope for this man was crushed to powder by his own hands.
"Hey, baby! Why you walking so fast?"
Crude, mocking voices came from behind me.
Their patience seemed exhausted. Their footsteps suddenly quickened, boot heels hitting the ground like death drums.
I whipped my head around to see they had closed in to less than ten meters away.
By the dim streetlight, I clearly saw one of them playing with a switchblade, the blade gleaming with cold light in the night.
"Don't come closer!" I screamed, fear completely shattering my reason.
I decisively let go of the suitcase handle, letting it fall by the roadside. Clutching the violin case tightly to my chest with both hands, I ran forward with all my might.
Cold wind rushed into my lungs, bringing a tearing pain.
I blindly turned into a narrow alley, trying to use the terrain to shake them off.
When I rushed breathlessly to the end of the alley, the scene before me left me completely desperate.
A red brick wall at least three meters high completely blocked my way.
This was a dead end.
The alley reeked of rotting garbage.
I pressed my back against the cold, rough brick wall with nowhere left to retreat.
"Running? Why'd you stop running?"
The footsteps behind me slowed down.
The three thugs blocked the alley entrance, like cats toying with a mouse, wearing ill-intentioned smiles as they closed in on me step by step.
The "click" of the switchblade opening sounded especially sharp in the deathly silent alley.
Their tall shadows, stretched by the streetlight, became twisted and enormous, like three insurmountable black mountains, completely sealing off all my escape routes.
Those three thugs pressed closer step by step. The nauseating smell of sweat mixed with cheap tobacco rushed at me.
My hand trembled frantically in my pocket, my fingertips finally touching that hard-textured black business card.
This was my last lifeline.
I fumbled out that silver-gray new phone and quickly pressed the number on the card from memory.
The phone rang only once before being answered. The man's deep voice came through the receiver: "Violet?"