Buried in Concrete, She Wept With Regret
768 Views · Ongoing · Angela
The day I disappeared, everyone thought I went on a "recovery trip overseas." Only she knew that I was in her basement—being drugged, tied up, and forced to work, living as a tool, relying on the threat that "someone outside wants to kill you."
I helped her refine her perfume formula to the point where it could be launched on the stock exchange, and she immediately wanted to "fire" me: she poured cement into my house during a torrential downpour, hoping I would die in a hallucination.
But I didn't die, and I even managed to recover my memories piece by piece.
The moment the stock exchange rang, I cut off the live stream signal, exposing the recordings, evidence, and transaction records on the spot. She went from a genius entrepreneur to a public enemy, and her default on buybacks ballooned to billions.
Only then did she come after me: kneeling, begging for forgiveness, risking her life to block cars, and finally collapsing in a hospital bed waiting for my forgiveness.
I helped her refine her perfume formula to the point where it could be launched on the stock exchange, and she immediately wanted to "fire" me: she poured cement into my house during a torrential downpour, hoping I would die in a hallucination.
But I didn't die, and I even managed to recover my memories piece by piece.
The moment the stock exchange rang, I cut off the live stream signal, exposing the recordings, evidence, and transaction records on the spot. She went from a genius entrepreneur to a public enemy, and her default on buybacks ballooned to billions.
Only then did she come after me: kneeling, begging for forgiveness, risking her life to block cars, and finally collapsing in a hospital bed waiting for my forgiveness.