Frozen in the Glass Cage, The Billionaire's Regret

The night before our engagement gala, my fiancé’s childhood best friend told me she had a surprise for the bride.

She lured me to the hotel’s penthouse glass conservatory, locked the heavy doors from the outside, and activated the full industrial sprinkler system.

It was a freezing December night. Ice-cold water rained down on me from above. Surrounded by transparent glass on all four sides, I was trapped in a showcase of misery.

Down below on the terrace, guests raised their phones, recording me as I trembled.

She laughed, looking pure yet utterly vicious.