The Nightingale Will Not Sing at Dawn

Outside the Civil Affairs Bureau, the cacophony of the crowd was overwhelming.

Kenneth and Mila’s old clique of childhood friends had arrived early, each dressed impeccably, their faces alight with smirks of anticipation.

Mila wore a delicate pink dress and clung sweetly to Kenneth’s arm as she murmured, “Kenneth, I’m so happy for you and Brooklyn. Today’s the day you finally make it official.”

As she spoke, she shot a challenging glance my way—her eyes brimming with naked contempt and triumph.

They seemed to say: *See this, Brooklyn? The man you love most is about to hand your family’s most precious treasure right to me. And you? You’re just a pathetic little clown.*

Kenneth patted her hand, his tone softer than I’d ever heard. “Thank you for being here, Mila.”

Their friends began to stir.

“Way to go, Ken! About to get the girl *and* the prize!”

“Seriously, a two-for-one deal! The legendary Jade Cicada!”

“Brooklyn, we heard that jade box is priceless. Mind giving us a peek today?”

Each teasing jab pierced my heart like a needle.

I lowered my gaze, my fingers tightening around the family heirloom hidden in my bag, nails digging into my palm.

Kenneth turned vaguely in my direction. “Brooklyn, do you have it? Everyone’s waiting.”

His tone carried a faint, almost imperceptible edge of impatience and greed.

I took a deep breath, lifted my head, and let my calm gaze sweep over everyone present.

“Of course I brought it.”

I spoke slowly, my voice soft yet clear enough to reach every ear. “But before I take it out, I’d like everyone to see something else first.”

All eyes fixed on me.

Smiling sweetly, Mila pulled a tablet from her Hermès bag and held it up. “Is this what you mean, Brooklyn?”

She giggled, her words dripping with suggestion. “It’s a little surprise Kenneth and I prepared. It shows Brooklyn’s… most *passionate* side.”

As soon as she finished, the tablet screen lit up, playing a degrading, gut-wrenching video.

In the dim footage, a woman struggled beneath two men, her cries muffled by a rough hand.

Though the face was unclear, the familiar loungewear and my own hoarse, choked sobs were enough for anyone who knew me to recognize the person on the screen.

Instantly, the air erupted with knowing snickers and hushed whispers.

“Damn, she went that far?”

“Who would’ve guessed? Brooklyn always played the innocent angel. Turns out she’s wild in private.”

“Two guys… Tsk. And Ken’s still marrying her?”

Mila looked at me triumphantly, her eyes overflowing with schadenfreude. “Brooklyn, how could you be so careless? If a video like this got out, your family’s reputation would be ruined. Kenneth is only marrying you—a woman who’s been… *used*—out of the goodness of his heart.”

Her friends chimed in eagerly.

“That’s right! Kenneth’s being more than generous!”

“Brooklyn, you should hand over that heirloom right now to thank him!”

“If it weren’t for Kenneth, you’d be branded a slut by everyone!”

The venomous words crashed over me like a tidal wave.

I looked at their twisted faces, at Kenneth standing among them, the corner of his mouth curled in a smug, victorious sneer.

He thought this video would shatter me, strip me of all dignity, force me to meekly hand over the jade box and leave me at their mercy.

He was wrong.

Under their gloating stares, I slowly, deliberately, unfastened the top button of my dress.

Everyone froze.

Mila’s smile stiffened. “Brooklyn, what… what are you doing?”

I ignored her, undoing the second button, then the third.

As the collar fell open, the bruises and bite marks on my neck and collarbone—marks I’d hidden with concealer—were laid bare in the harsh daylight.

A shocking, brutal sight.

The surrounding snickers died instantly.

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd as they stared at me in disbelief.

I lifted my hand, pulled up the hem of my skirt, and revealed my thighs, covered in dark bruises and scratches.

“Mila,” I said, lifting my eyes to meet hers, my gaze like shards of ice. “You call this ‘passionate’? Then tell me—what kind of ‘consent’ leaves marks like these?”

My voice was quiet, but it carried the weight of a hammer, crashing down on every heart present.

“What kind of ‘wild private life’ requires being gagged so brutally you can’t even scream for help?”

“You all say Kenneth is my savior, that I should be grateful he’s willing to marry a ‘tainted’ woman.”

I let out a cold laugh and took a step toward Kenneth.

“Then why don’t you ask him where he was when it happened?”

“I’ll tell you,” I said, stopping right in front of him, my eyes locked on his disturbingly vacant ones. “When it happened, my wonderful fiancé was wearing headphones, mopping the floor leisurely, less than ten feet away from me.”

Dead silence fell.

Every gaze shifted from me to Kenneth—shock, doubt, disbelief.

Kenneth’s face went deathly pale.

He clearly hadn’t expected me to dare say all this out loud, in front of everyone.

He instinctively took a step back, forcing a veneer of composure as he roared, “Brooklyn! You’re insane! What kind of nonsense are you spouting!”

“Nonsense?”

I gave a bitter smile, grabbed his hand, and pressed it hard against the deepest bite mark on my arm. “Feel it! Tell me, did I bite myself?”

His hand trembled violently.

In that moment, I saw it clearly—the pupils of his “blind” eyes contracted sharply with terror.

“Enough!”

Mila shrieked, rushing forward to shove me away. “Brooklyn, you lunatic! You just don’t want to give Kenneth the box, so you’re making up these lies to slander him!”

Her friends snapped out of their stupor and rallied behind her.

“Exactly! Kenneth would never do that!”

“She’s lost her mind!”

“Call the police! Let them sort this out!” someone shouted.

“Fine.”

I shook off Mila’s hand, met the eyes of the crowd, and spoke with quiet, ironclad certainty. “Call them.”

“Let the police investigate thoroughly. Let them find out who filmed this video, and who ordered those two men to commit such a savage act against me!”

The moment my words fell, a steady, authoritative voice came from behind the crowd.

“That won’t be necessary.”

The crowd parted automatically.

A young man in a Civil Affairs Bureau uniform, wearing an official ID badge, stepped forward calmly.

He removed his gold-rimmed glasses, revealing handsome, resolute features.

It was Louis.

He walked to my side, took off his own jacket, and draped it gently over my trembling shoulders.

“Allow me to introduce myself.”

His sharp gaze swept over every panicked face present. “Louis. City Criminal Investigations.”