Chapter 7

My determination to save my best friend grew stronger. I didn’t know if that online comment was true, but if it was…

Then Sophia wasn’t just enduring domestic abuse and having videos taken of her—she was being exploited by Derek to make money.

Ignoring my husband’s protests, I rushed back to her place. I needed answers. If she truly believed this was love, I had to make sure she was in her right mind—that this was her choice.

We’d been friends for six or seven years. I couldn’t let her throw herself away like some cheap commodity.

When I arrived, I planned to confront her immediately, but Derek was home.

I walked in to find them cooking together in the kitchen.

Sophia wore a thin top, washing vegetables at the sink, occasionally flicking water at Derek.

He stood at the stove in an apron, chopping onions before wiping his hands on her face.

She giggled and dodged, and he turned off the burner, chasing her playfully.

Both of them were laughing, the scene sickeningly sweet.

"Jasmine, you're back!" Sophia called out between laughs before ducking away from Derek’s teasing.

The cheerful atmosphere made me freeze.

Last night’s tears and pleas for help felt like a dream.

Right now, they looked like any other happy couple.

But the photos I’d seen at home were real.

The videos showed their apartment—the living room, the table—all marked by struggle. Some clips depicted Sophia willing, others forced, her cries for mercy ignored before the camera rolled.

I waited days for a chance to speak with her alone.

At first, she played dumb. When I mentioned the lingerie photos and videos, she acted like I had the wrong person.

But when I described her apartment and threatened to go to the police, she panicked.

She begged me not to, admitting she knew everything.

Derek had shown her the videos. He’d been "good" to her—never letting her face be seen, no matter how much clients offered.

"Good to you?!" I was furious.

Selling videos of her online was good just because her face was hidden?

"I didn’t want to at first," she sniffled. "It started with just photos. I was embarrassed. Then suddenly he wanted videos. I fought back, but… it was just us at home."

She claimed she’d been forced at first, but over time, she’d given in.

Some of the most violent clips—the ones where she resisted the hardest—sold the best.

And afterward, Derek would take her out to eat.

That was her compensation? A few meals?

Disgusted, I cut to the chase: Had he made her sleep with other men?

I expected a firm no. After all, she’d been with me outside of work.

But she hesitated. "I… don’t know."

"Don’t know?" I stared. "It’s yes or no. How can you not know?!"

"Sometimes he blindfolded me for… roleplay. I couldn’t tell who it was."

Her eyes betrayed her.

After all this time with Derek, she knew.

"You’ve been manipulated. This isn’t how healthy relationships work—"

"It’s my life!" she snapped. "If you’re really my friend, drop it."

Sophia was too far gone.

We parted on bad terms. I packed my things and left.

She didn’t stop me, just watched silently, her expression unreadable.

I swore I’d wash my hands of this. But guilt drove me to Derek’s post. I commented:

{Aren’t you afraid someone will report you?}

The reply vanished instantly.

I went to the gym where Derek worked, only to learn he hadn’t shown up in days.

One last try. I’d confront him at home, warn him he was breaking the law.

But when I reached his rundown apartment in the old district, people were coming and going.

Before I even stepped inside, I heard Sophia’s moans.

I burst in—

And froze.

Sophia lay on the bed, surrounded by Derek and five other men.

"Stop!" I shouted. "This is illegal!"

Derek snarled at me to mind my own business.

But Sophia’s tearful scream cut through: "Jasmine! Help me!"

I shoved past the men, grabbed a lamp, and shielded her.

She sobbed that after I left, Derek had dropped all pretense. He’d lured her here, to this filthy place, for these men.

Derek sneered. "What’s the big deal? She’s a cam girl. Everyone’s seen her already."

I pulled out my phone to call the police.

Sophia suddenly shrieked—then lunged at me, pinning me down.

Stunned, I barely registered Derek yanking at my pants.

I fought wildly, but Sophia held my arms just like that night when Derek had tried to assault me.

"What are you doing?!" I screamed.

Her voice was eerily calm. "Just try it, Jasmine. It feels amazing once you let go. Derek’s good. They’re all good. The videos are thrilling. You’ll have men worshipping you. You’ll be more popular than me."

I thrashed like a madwoman, but my clothes were being torn away.

One man hesitated. "This… this is rape."

Derek grinned. "Who cares? Once we film her, she’ll keep quiet. Five against one—you think she’ll risk her reputation? Even if we don’t touch her, she reports us, and the cops come knocking."

"Might as well have fun. Then we’ve got leverage. She won’t dare talk."

He leered. "A trust fund baby’s wife. A ballet teacher. Prime material."

Terror clawed at me. I kicked, but Sophia held fast, murmuring, "Shh. It’ll be over soon. You’ll join me in my world."

I gritted my teeth. "Never. I already called the—"

Before I could finish, Sophia clamped a hand over my mouth.

I couldn’t scream.

I couldn’t breathe.