The rain showed no signs of stopping, if anything, it was growing heavier. Sophia couldn't stay hidden much longer. If they realized she wasn't in the restroom and started searching for her, it would be too late to escape.
After a moment's hesitation, she made up her mind. She would walk to the subway and catch a train back to the city.
The wind screamed through the empty streets, so strong it almost knocked her over. The rain battered her from all sides, drenching her within seconds. The thin, short dress her stepmother had forced her to wear was utterly soaked, molding tightly to every contour of her body.
Without the bra her stepmother had forbidden her from wearing, the wet fabric left her shamefully exposed. Her proud breasts were fully outlined against the dress, and her nipples, stiff from the cold, stood out sharply, clearly visible through the clinging material. Every movement caused the soaked fabric to rub against her sensitive skin, heightening her humiliation.
Her fair skin, the elegant curve of her waist, the fullness of her hips—all of it was now on full, shameless display under the relentless rain.
The suburban streets were rough and uneven, nothing like the smooth sidewalks of the city. The high heels she wore slipped dangerously on the wet ground, forcing her to finally take them off and walk barefoot, clutching them in one hand.
Ahead, part of the road was under construction, a treacherous stretch full of puddles and hidden dangers. Waterlogged gravel and sharp pieces of tile lurked beneath the murky surface, and she cried out softly as they bit into the soles of her feet.
By the time she crossed it, her feet were covered in scratches and shallow cuts, each step igniting sharp bursts of pain.
She gritted her teeth and pushed forward, but after a few minutes the agony overwhelmed her. She stumbled to a streetlamp and leaned against it, gasping for breath. The rain poured over her, soaking her hair, blurring her vision until she could barely see the path ahead.
She didn't even realize she had wandered off the sidewalk and into the road.
------
Marcus was fuming with anger. His grandfather just wouldn't stop threatening him, but this time, he had gone too far.
"If you don't get married by the end of this week," the old man had growled, his voice filled with ruthless certainty, "I'll stop taking my medication. Let's see how fast you can organize a funeral instead of a wedding."
The words burned through Marcus's mind, igniting a rage he could barely contain. Yet, deep down, he knew too well—his grandfather was serious this time.
Marcus was only twenty-five, still in the prime of his youth, but his grandfather never missed a chance to throw the past in his face: "When I was your age, I already had your first uncle."
Over the years, the old man had made countless threats—disinheritance, donating Marcus's entire share to an orphanage, even publicly disowning him—but Marcus had always shrugged them off. None of it had mattered.
Until now.
This time, it was different. This time, it was life or death.
Cornered with no other choice, Marcus had finally gritted his teeth and made the promise: he'd get married before the end of the week. But as soon as the words left his mouth, he felt the suffocating weight of resentment settle in his chest.
He didn't want to stay another minute under his grandfather's roof. He stormed out of the mansion, his steps loud and defiant. Without a second thought, he climbed into his car, ignoring the heavy rain that battered the windshield.
The storm raged outside, turning the world into a blur of gray and silver, but Marcus didn't care. His knuckles whitened as he gripped the steering wheel, his mind a whirlwind of fury and frustration.
He didn't even notice he was speeding. He didn't notice the flooded streets or the slick pavement.
He didn't notice the figure in the road—
Not until it was almost too late.
Snapping out of his daze at the last possible moment, Marcus slammed the brakes with all his strength. The car screeched on the wet asphalt, tires sliding uncontrollably.
Despite braking hard, the front of the car still bumped into the figure.
A girl.
The impact wasn't heavy—thank God—but enough to knock her down. She crumpled onto the wet road, her soaked dress clinging to her as she struggled to sit up.
Marcus's heart dropped into his stomach. Panic jolted him into action. He threw the door open and ran out into the rain, ignoring how it soaked him instantly.
------
"Miss, are you alright?" Marcus called out urgently as he rushed to the sidewalk, crouching beside the girl who lay there, breathing heavily.
The collision hadn't been hard—he knew that—but the shock of the moment had clearly overwhelmed her. She was trembling, her soaked body shivering violently under the relentless rain. Her drenched hair clung to her face, and her lips were slightly parted as she gasped for air, looking utterly lost.
The heavy rain had blinded her earlier; she must not have even realized she had wandered off the sidewalk and onto the road.
And now... this.
Fear still clung to her like a second skin—from the accident, from whatever she was running from—and the cold, biting rain offered no mercy. Marcus could see it: the way her chest rose and fell too quickly, the wild fear in her eyes.
Then suddenly, her body sagged.
"Shoot—" Marcus swore under his breath as the girl collapsed completely, fainting right in front of him.
"Miss? Miss! Wake up!" he said, voice rising sharply in panic. He shook her shoulder gently, terrified to hurt her but desperate for a response. "Please, wake up!"
No reaction.
His heart hammered in his chest, a sick, helpless feeling surging through him.
He knelt there for a second, frozen, rain drenching him to the bone. Then he gritted his teeth and forced himself to move. He needed to act. Fast.
Without a second thought, Marcus slipped his arms under her and lifted her off the ground, carrying her like a bride.
He didn't care that she was soaking wet.
He didn't care that her dress was dirty, torn, clinging to her cold body.
All he cared about was saving her.
He carefully placed her onto the passenger seat of his car, making sure her head rested gently against the seat. Then he ran around to the driver's side, started the ignition, and pulled back onto the road, driving fast but cautious through the sheets of rain.
The storm made visibility terrible, and the winding suburban roads didn't help. But Marcus didn't slow down.
He pressed on, gritting his teeth, eyes flickering worriedly toward the unconscious girl beside him.
The nearest hospital was still at least an hour and a half away. It felt like an eternity.
Finally—finally—he spotted the glow of the hospital's lights through the rain. Relief flooded through him.
Without wasting a second, Marcus slammed the brakes, jumped out of the car, and rushed to the passenger side. He opened the door, lifted her carefully into his arms again, and bolted toward the entrance.
"Help! Someone help, please!" he shouted, his voice cutting sharply through the storm.
Emergency staff ran out immediately with a stretcher. They took the girl from his arms and wheeled her inside, disappearing down the corridor.
Marcus stood there for a moment, soaked and breathing hard, staring after them, feeling helpless—and strangely, afraid for someone he hadn't even known an hour ago.