"Daniel! You're inhuman!" Jordan, incensed, tried to rush forward but was blocked by Daniel's men.
"Easy, Mr. Taylor," they said helplessly. This was Daniel, a Douglas, Ethan's brother.
In San Francisco, who would dare cross the Douglas family?
Who would dare cross Ethan?
They all gave Daniel respect, not because he was Daniel, but because he was Ethan's brother.
"Just watch, Jordan. If you can keep your hands to yourself, I'll beg my brother to put in a good word with Mr. Patrick for you," Daniel sneered, using the Taylor Corporation to threaten Jordan.
He was sure that a weakling like Jordan would compromise for the sake of profit.
He wanted Jasmine to see exactly what kind of man Jordan was.
"Let me go..." Jasmine sobbed, "Please Daniel, have mercy..."
But begging was futile; she should've known better.
The men grabbed Jasmine, pinning her to the couch and ripping at her clothes with a violent fervor.
Jasmine cried and struggled to no avail.
"Help... please, save me..." she cried out, glancing at Jordan, who stood frozen, feeling as if he had plunged into icy waters, cold and suffocating.
Jordan's Adam's apple bobbed; he was torn about stepping forward. Without the backing of the Douglas family, he'd be trampled underfoot in this elite circle.
Fingers clenched tremblingly, Jordan looked away.
He never imagined that the Wilson family heiress, once perched upon a pedestal, would now be brought so low by these people.
That proud gardenia had wilted to nothing but tatters.
And Daniel, it seemed his sole intent was to strip Jasmine of every last thorn, every gleam of light, to drag her through the dirt until she was filthy, torn, and trampled into the mud.
Hopeless, Jasmine stopped struggling and stopped pleading as she gazed at Jordan.
What was the use? These people... how could they ever save her?
Lying powerless on the sofa, she let them desecrate her without protest.
Her clothes were ripped, revealing a body littered with bruises and scars...
During the years she spent in prison, Daniel's paid goons "took care" of her daily.
The bruises marring her body would likely not fade for a long time.
"Damn... Is this woman sick or something? What's with all these bruises? She looks terrible."
Someone, repulsed by the sight of Jasmine, unconsciously released his grip.
They were all about fun but didn't want to catch any diseases.
The others quickly let go of Jasmine too. "I heard she's sick..."
"Jesus, who knows how many have been with her; she's filthy. We don't pick up trash, Daniel."
Jasmine lay on the sofa, eyes empty and utterly still.
What was the cruelest way to destroy a girl? Spread dirty rumors.
Jasmine had experienced this before in high school.
Back then, so many boys were infatuated with her, and she'd find her desk cubby stuffed with love letters each day.
Among them, Tom and Jordan were the most persistent pursuers, both declaring their love for her in public, only to be tactfully rejected.
Later, malicious gossip began to circulate, alleging Jasmine was promiscuous, masquerading as a paragon of virtue while leading an unsavory life behind the scenes.
These vicious rumors had reduced Jasmine to tears many times. She was subjected to the cruel taunts of her classmates, and even worse—she once found chicken blood splattered on her ballet costume and razor blades stuffed in her pointe shoes...
Then she got involved with Daniel. No one dared to mess with Daniel, and gradually the rumors were suppressed.
From that point, Jasmine viewed Daniel as her salvation.
A beacon in her world of darkness.
Her savior.
But abruptly one day, her savior turned into a demon.
"Already had a kid? "
"Seriously, I wouldn't take her for free."
"Didn't Tom used to be head over heels for her? Can't imagine Tom would mind. Where's he at? Didn't see him today."
"He'll be here soon."
Jasmine lay numbly on the couch, bombarded by the vile words being tossed around her.
Finally gathering the strength to sit up, she adjusted her clothing and noticed all the buttons had been ripped off.
She didn’t cry.
She had no more tears left.
Daniel sat nearby. His cigarette butt was burning into his fingers, but he was oblivious to the pain.
A twinge of regret crept in; he knew he had gone too far.
But in his mind, all this was Jasmine’s doing; he just wanted to expose Jordan's true colors to her.
"Jasmine..." Jordan approached her hesitantly, not daring to get too close.
Clearly, he'd bought into the rumors about her being dirty and diseased.
Jasmine stayed silent, her body involuntarily curling in on itself.
"I can take you home..." Jordan offered quietly.
Jasmine didn't react, only remaining quietly seated. After a long while, she looked up at Jordan. "Get a paternity test done with Justin."
As Jasmine's words became clear, several men in the room slapped the table in excitement. "Whoa! Jasmine's kid belongs to the wealthy Taylor family, eh? Jordan, you’ve got guts, having sex with someone that they say is 'dirty'!"
"Jordan, you happy playing daddy now?"
"Jordan, you're really brave, going after a woman like that."
Jordan was visibly displeased, feeling his reputation was at stake. "Shut up," he said.
These people mumbled in dissent but fell silent.
"Jasmine, Justin isn't mine. I wasn't with you at the hotel," Jordan hurried to clarify.
Jasmine breathed a sigh of relief and nodded.
Good...
It wasn’t him... Great.
Otherwise, she'd feel sick.
At the door, Tom pushed his way in, frowning at the jeering and foul language.
His gaze settled on Jasmine, and he froze for a second.