"The trunk’s pretty spacious. Let’s put him in the trunk."
Jasmine Sinclair opened the trunk and gestured for Chiara White to put him inside.
’This bloody bastard better not stain my leather seats. Luckily, there was a blanket in the trunk. If they put him on it, I won’t even have to wash out the trunk later.’
Chiara White looked at the cramped trunk, hesitating, but ultimately said nothing and placed the man inside.
After stowing the man away, Chiara White turned to leave, but Jasmine Sinclair grabbed her wrist again.
"I can tell you were trying to kill yourself. Whatever it is that’s bothering you, why not talk to me about it? Maybe you won’t want to die after we chat."
’Jasmine Sinclair knew that as the story’s protagonist, Chiara White definitely wouldn’t die tonight. And as such a "kind" green tea, how could she bear to watch the adorable heroine suffer? Of course, she had to help her escape this sea of misery.’
"There’s nothing to talk about. You can’t help me."
’Chiara White looked utterly resolved to die. Unless this girl could help her kill Silas Sanford, staying alive just meant more torture at the hands of that bastard.’
"How do you know I can’t help you if you don’t say anything? Go on, tell me."
Jasmine Sinclair held onto Chiara White, refusing to let go.
"Let go of me! If that bastard’s men find me, I won’t even get the chance to die."
’Chiara White was frantic. How could she be so unlucky? She couldn’t even kill herself without running into someone.’
"I don’t care. If you won’t talk, I won’t let go."
Seeing that Chiara White had no intention of talking, Jasmine Sinclair decided to resort to being shameless. After all, she wasn’t the one in a hurry.
Chiara White stopped wasting her breath and tried to pry Jasmine Sinclair’s fingers off her wrist. But no matter how hard she pulled, she couldn’t break the grip.
’This girl just said she was too weak to move that man. What did she mean, weak? She was clearly stronger than I am!’
"Fine, I’ll tell you."
Chiara White finally gave up struggling.
For the next half hour, Jasmine Sinclair listened to a cliché, angsty tale of a woman being forced into a relationship by a powerful mafia boss.
"So that’s the story. Tell me, what else can I do? The man is too powerful; I can’t escape his grasp. I’d rather die than be kept like a pet, my freedom stripped away while he toys with me."
Chiara White’s head was bowed, her expression dejected.
"What’s this talk about dying? He might have imprisoned your body, but you can imprison his soul."
"Imprison his soul? How?"
Chiara White lifted her downcast gaze, her wide, round eyes fixed on Jasmine Sinclair.
"You PUA him, of course."
’Jasmine Sinclair believed the best way to deal with possessive, scumbag men was to PUA them. They might be powerful enough to control the heroine’s freedom, but she could control their emotions in return. They get jealous over her, go crazy for her—a single word from her can send their emotions into a tailspin. A man like that is an easy target for PUA.’
"How do I PUA him?"
’Chiara White looked at Jasmine Sinclair like an eager student. If it meant she could make that bastard Silas Sanford suffer, she was willing to do anything.’
"For example, if he’s older than you, call him old. If he can’t cook, tell him about some guy who used to pursue you who was an amazing chef. If he’s bad in bed, criticize his technique, tell him his dick is ugly. You chip away at his confidence by belittling and nitpicking, making him feel unworthy. That’s how you make him submissive to you."
"You have to run hot and cold. Keep him guessing. Make him feel guilty... Before you know it, he won’t be the one controlling you—you’ll be the one controlling him."
Jasmine Sinclair rattled off every PUA technique she knew in one go.
As she listened, Chiara White’s eyes grew brighter and brighter, and the thought of suicide slowly faded. If she could turn the tables and control that bastard Silas Sanford, then of course she wanted to live.
’From the System Space, System 777 watched its host lead the heroine astray and felt a headache coming on. The headache intensified when it saw the favorability meter above the heroine’s head shoot up to 50%. For a split second, it felt as if the entire System Space had turned orange. Were five rabid dogs not enough to tie down its host’s heart, which was now set on seducing the heroine?’
"Pull out your phone. Let’s add each other on WhatsApp. I’ll recommend an anti-PUA influencer to you. Go home and watch his videos. You’ll learn a lot over time. It’ll also help you avoid being emotionally manipulated by other scumbags in the future."
Jasmine Sinclair said, pulling out her phone.
"That bastard put a tracker on my phone. I threw it away so he couldn’t find me. Just tell me your WhatsApp number. I have a good memory; I’ll remember it."
After memorizing Jasmine Sinclair’s number, Chiara White’s expression suddenly changed. She pointed to the trunk and said, "We got so caught up talking we forgot about him! It’s been over half an hour. He’s not... dead, is he?"
"If he’s dead, then that’s just his bad luck. The ambulance had to get someone else first; that has nothing to do with us. Besides, if we hadn’t found him, he wouldn’t have even had the chance to call for help. He would’ve just been waiting to die. So even if he did die, there’s no reason for us to feel guilty about the half-hour delay."
Jasmine Sinclair said, patting Chiara White on the shoulder.
"That’s easy for you to say, but you should still get him to the hospital. Quickly."
With that, Chiara White opened the door, got out of the car, and urged Jasmine Sinclair to hurry up and drive to the hospital.
Seeing that she had successfully brainwashed Chiara White out of her suicidal thoughts, Jasmine Sinclair didn’t say anything more. She started the car and peeled away.
Chiara White watched the car disappear into the distance, then glanced at the deserted road. A sudden pang of regret hit her. She shouldn’t have gotten out. She should have at least waited until they were back in the city.
She wished she hadn’t thrown her phone away. If Silas Sanford’s men didn’t find her soon, she’d have to walk back to the city herself. From here, it was at least a dozen-mile walk. At this rate, it would take her until dawn.
Jasmine Sinclair had just driven into the city limits when she was pulled over by a traffic cop. He gave her a breathalyzer test, and the results showed she was over the legal limit.
No matter how much she explained that the car was equipped with the world’s most advanced self-driving system, her license was still suspended. Fortunately, the officer didn’t check her trunk. If he had and discovered the man covered in blood inside, she would have had a lot of explaining to do.
’Just before, she had reported Ethan Payne for drunk driving, and now it was happening to her. What goes around, comes around, I guess.’
’She hadn’t even been driving—the car’s AI was! She hadn’t touched the steering wheel or the gas pedal the entire time, but just because she was in the driver’s seat, it counted as a DUI.’
Luckily, her car wasn’t impounded. She called for a designated driver right in front of the officer, who then finally let her go.
It was nearly dawn by the time she finally made it home. Jasmine Sinclair opened the trunk and sighed at the sight of the man curled up inside. Using the blanket, she rolled him up like a chicken burrito, hauled him out of the car, and then dragged him from her parking space all the way to the elevator. Just as she reached out to press the button, she realized the elevator was out of order.