Whispers rippled through the crowd.
“I was looking for the bathroom,” I said, trembling.
The murmurs grew louder—thief, gold digger, liar.
“Search her,” Roberto commanded coldly.
Before I could react, Victoria and Isabela grabbed my arms. “Don’t touch me!” I cried, but they ignored me, clawing at my dress. The zipper ripped, fabric tearing away until I stood half-clothed under the glare of chandeliers and phone cameras.
Two hundred strangers stared. Some gasped. Others recorded. Carlos just stood there, silent.
I begged him with my eyes to say something—to defend me. He looked away.
When they found nothing, Victoria sneered. “Throw her out.”
Two guards dragged me outside and tossed me onto the cold stone driveway. I curled up, humiliated, shaking.
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