A suicide mission?

I didn't get a message from Mr Lover until 6 AM the next day. I was already awake when I got his message.

Unknown: Meet me in two hours. Don't forget, should you show up with your mates —any of them —I won't meet you.

I frowned, getting up from bed. Yawning, I walked into the bathroom to have my bath and brush my teeth, looking at my hideous reflection in the mirror. I looked so bad, more than my mates did.

Sighing, I placed my hand on my belly, mussing. Why did this have to happen at a time like this? I was supposed to spend the days with my mates, giggling as they took care of me. This was presumed to be a time of glorious memories. Why did the stupid man choose such a wrong timing?

What was he aiming for?

I got ready with my mates within thirty minutes. I didn't have to overdress or try to look nice because there was nothing nice about anything happening at the moment.

The black gown I wore, stopped just below my knees. Before, whenever I put on the gown, it always clung to my