Tears streamed down Sophie Summers' face like broken pearls, her panic growing with every passing second. The crowd on the street thickened, voices rising with blame—some condemned her father, others the thugs forcing her into despair, and still more accused me of callous indifference.

I met their accusations with a cold gaze and said,"If you're so righteous, why don't you help her pay the debt?"

The onlookers fell silent, their heads bowed in discomfort.

Turning back to Sophie Summers, I pressed,"Have you made your decision?"

Liam Harper's lips curled into a lecherous sneer."Since you won't let him pay for you, then come with us. With your looks and that body, you'll clear the debt in a year or two. After that, find some naïve guy to marry—no one will ever know what you've done."

"No, no, I won't!" Sophie Summers shook her head violently, her eyes brimming with terror and despair.

At Liam's signal, his men began advancing to drag her away. Cornered by the oppressive reality, Sophie Summers finally agreed to my terms. A wave of triumph surged within me as I swiftly transferred the money to the thugs, reclaiming the debt slip. A glance at it revealed the cruel truth—what started as a mere three hundred thousand had been inflated to two million.

I took her phone, transferred a million to her account, and tossed the slip back to her.

Sophie Summers glared at me with hatred, her voice icy."Where's the contract?"

"There's no need for one," I replied indifferently."I trust you."

She let out a bitter laugh, her eyes laced with scorn."I don't trust you."

She turned and strode into a nearby café, returning with a piece of packaging paper. On it, she wrote: Today, Sophie Summers acknowledges receiving three million yuan from Ryan Cross. In return, she willingly agrees to obey Ryan Cross during her four years at university. Signed, Sophie Summers.

Tears streaming down her face, she flung the paper—her indenture—at me before running back to campus. I watched her retreating figure, a storm of emotions churning within me, uncertain whether to feel triumph or guilt. The crowd dispersed, leaving me alone, clutching that wretched document, a hollow emptiness gnawing at my chest.

We moved into a rented apartment near campus. She was clever, diligent, and frugal. With the allowance I gave her, she managed her expenses meticulously, often saving a substantial amount, which she tried to return to me. I never accepted it—such trifling sums were beneath my notice. Yet, her gaze toward me remained icy, laced with unrelenting hatred.

From the moment I took her virginity, her anguished expression and visceral revulsion made it clear: I would never possess her heart. It didn't matter—I only needed her body, not her affection. In bed, no matter how unwilling she was, she had no choice but to endure my whims. As long as I didn't cross a fatal line, my family turned a blind eye to my excesses.

In the quiet hours of the night, I often gazed at her sleeping face. A tangle of emotions stirred within me as I noticed her faintly furrowed brows, as though her dreams offered no reprieve from her waking torment. Occasionally, I reached out to gently stroke her cheek, but every time my fingers brushed her skin, she flinched involuntarily, as though recoiling from an invisible wound. In those moments, a sharp ache cut through me, one I could neither voice nor dispel.

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It wasn't until I was a junior in college and she was a sophomore that my family went bankrupt. I went back to my hometown. My parents had sold everything they could. The only thing they were worried about was whether I could adapt to the days without money. I dropped out of school and didn't even go back to school. I was just messing around in college anyway, so I didn't want to go back.

At home, I changed my number, severing all ties with my past. Though memories of her occasionally surfaced, I knew we had no future.

My family still bore a debt of over ten million. My parents, knowing that recovery was an unattainable dream for now, took on jobs, leaving themselves just enough for basic living expenses while using the remainder to repay their creditors. They refused to live with a guilty conscience, meticulously recording every payment in a small notebook—how much they repaid and to whom. They always said,"In this life, it's best not to owe anyone anything."

For the first time, I truly understood my parents and the principles of being a decent human being. With peace of mind, I found a factory job. After years of idling, I couldn't endure the grueling work at construction sites. I even tried delivering food, but a traffic accident on the job—though thankfully not severe—prompted my parents to forbid such risky work. Their fear was valid. With no money for emergencies, one more misfortune could truly devastate us.

I eventually joined an electronics factory. Despite not having finished university, I quickly climbed from operator to a small team leader, thanks to my sharp mind.

Life at the factory was monotonous but brought me a certain peace of mind. At times, I thought of her—of the life we once shared. Those memories, though marred by pain and conflict, carried an indescribable emotional weight. I didn't know how she was faring now or if she still harbored hatred toward me. But I knew the harm I'd caused her could never be undone.

I sent money to my parents, but they refused it, insisting the debt was theirs alone and they wouldn't burden me. Left with no other way to contribute, I bought a second-hand car and started driving it as a taxi after work. As I navigated the city streets, passing young couples walking hand in hand, a pang of sorrow always welled within me. I once had a youth like that—a youth I destroyed with my own hands.

I never imagined encountering her in such a place, let alone that she would step into my car. Her gaze burned with hatred, so intense it felt as if she could tear me apart with her eyes. I understood her resentment—she had every reason to despise me. Those four years in university must have been unbearable for her. After all, no matter who the benefactor was, the stigma of being kept was impossible to erase.

"You think a simple apology will suffice?" Her voice was as cold as ice.

"If it helps, you can beat me—or let the man outside beat me. I won't fight back, nor will I call the police," I replied wearily, my tone laced with resignation and despair.

She hesitated, clearly unprepared for my response. A flicker of surprise and conflicted emotions crossed her face."Where's your arrogance now? You're nothing but a dog, groveling."

I forced a bitter smile."Yes, I am a dog. Please, get out of my car. This is a dog's car."

She sneered,"Your phone?"

"I don't have one," I muttered.

With a huff, she leapt out of the car, slamming the door with such force I feared it might fall off while driving. Circling to the driver's side, she yanked the door open and snatched the phone from its holder. Dialing a number, she let it ring before hanging up.

"That's my number. If I call, you'd better answer," she said, tossing the phone back with disdain. Her eyes glinted with contempt."What an ancient piece of junk."

It was an iPhone 8, one I had only managed to purchase second-hand after months of work. Money was not something I could spend frivolously anymore.

I started the car and sped away. That was enough for the day. With luck like this, there was no point in continuing.

When I got home, her call came almost immediately—Elena Carter. I ignored it and tossed the phone aside.

She was my high school classmate. Her family was very rich, richer than mine before it went bankrupt. She was pretty, too. Of course, according to my previous standards, she had a great body. Because her family was rich, she acted eccentrically and was very flirtatious. I heard and saw that there were always men around her.