I am the only daughter of Antonia Jessi, the former chairman of the Jessi Group, and the publicly acknowledged fiancée of the group’s new CEO, Darius Basinger.

On the eve of our engagement party, I excitedly took out the Patek Philippe watch I had commissioned three months ago, a gift to celebrate his promotion to CEO.

But inside the safe in Darius’s study, I found a legal document authorizing my ousting from the company, along with a stack of private photos from my kidnapping five years ago.

In the blank space of one of the documents, I saw his handwritten note.

"Brand image compromised. Unfit to be the matriarch of the Jessi family."

I snatched the documents and rushed out to confront him. But he was idly toying with the sapphire necklace that should have been mine—the symbol of the family matriarch.

"Although you are my fiancée, you are already tainted, Nathalia. The matriarch of the Jessi Group must have a flawless resume. But you, you carry the filthy mark of those thugs. Every time I think about it, it makes me sick to my stomach."

"If a man has a checkered past in business, it's considered a badge of honor. But if a woman was once the victim of a crime, she is a flawed product, fit only to be discarded."

I found Darius's logic laughably absurd.

"I was kidnapped five years ago to shield you from those men!"

Darius just let out a cold laugh. "I never asked you to play the hero. In any case, I will never marry a tainted woman who's been touched by street thugs."

At the party the next day, in front of all of New York's high society, Darius leaked the photos from my kidnapping to the media.

In that moment, I didn't shed a single tear. After all, Darius had no idea the woman he was casting aside like trash held the power to buy his entire future.

————————

1

At the engagement party, the giant screen in the ballroom lit up.

The screen, which should have been playing a romantic montage of me and the new CEO, Darius Basinger, suddenly flickered to a series of high-definition, compromising photos.

The photos were from my captivity five years ago, a nightmare from when I had saved Darius from a group of kidnappers.

But now, the caption beneath the photos read: "Nathalia Jessi's promiscuous private life. A woman with a damaged reputation has no right to be the matriarch of the Jessi family!"

The hundreds of guests below fell into a deathly silence, which then erupted into a cacophony of murmurs.

"My God!"

"What an utter disgrace!"

"A tainted woman like her doesn't deserve to be part of the Jessi family!"

Darius, wearing a bespoke suit, looked down at me with condescension in his eyes.

"Everyone, although Nathalia Jessi is my fiancée, I cannot accept a woman who has tarnished our family's reputation as my wife."

"For the sake of the Jessi Group's image, I hereby announce that I am breaking off my engagement with Nathalia Jessi and stripping her of all positions within the company!"

The crowd went wild.

"Darius is right!"

"For the reputation of our group!"

Before I could react, two security guards rushed forward and roughly seized my arms.

A woman emerged from behind Darius—Aila Carly.

She was wearing the haute couture gown that should have been mine, a triumphant smile gracing her lips. Looking at her delicate face, I remembered that winter three years ago.

I had found her shivering on a street corner.

She had been kicked out of her home by her family, so thin she was nothing but skin and bones, her face a mask of timidity.

I took her in, paid for her tuition, gave her my own clothes, and even let her stay in the guest room next to mine.

She once told me, "Nathalia, you're like the sister I never had. I'll never forget what you've done for me."

But now, she stood before me, gazing down with that same condescending air.

"Nathalia, you're not the matriarch of the Jessi family anymore. You have no need for a necklace that symbolizes a status you no longer possess."

With a sharp snap, the clasp broke.

The sapphire necklace my mother had left me was yanked from my neck and clattered onto the cold marble floor. I felt like a marionette whose fine clothes had been ripped away, leaving me exposed.

Aila burst out laughing, then whispered in a voice only we could hear, "Nathalia, thank you for your pity back then. But now, your apartment is mine, and your man is mine."

"Stop!"

An enraged roar cut through the crowd.

My father, the former chairman Antonia Jessi, rushed over, dragging his disabled leg—an old injury from a corporate battle where he’d risked everything to protect the company.

He roared, "Darius, you're lying! Nathalia was kidnapped to save you! How can you repay her kindness with such betrayal?"

Darius didn't even glance at him. With a wave of his hand, several burly security guards struck my father in the stomach, then dragged the former chairman—a man who had dedicated his life to the group—out like he was nothing more than trash.

"I've had enough of you, you stubborn old fool! If it weren't for you, my father wouldn't have died!"

"Throw these two disgraceful people out! And from today, freeze all their assets."

Darius wrapped his arm around Aila's waist and turned to look at me, his eyes brimming with disgust.

"Let them rot in some rundown apartment in Queens and see how long they survive."

...

The cheap apartment was drafty. A damp carpet clung to the floor and the corners reeked of mildew.

The rough handling had aggravated my father’s old injury, and the sheer rage of it all triggered a stroke. Now, he was burning with fever, rambling deliriously, his words a tangled mess of my name and apologies.

"Water… water…" he moaned, his voice weak.

I searched my pockets and found only a few crumpled twenty-dollar bills.

I rushed to the Group's private hospital.

At the entrance, two of Aila's bodyguards blocked my path.

"Well, well. If it isn't the famous Miss Jessi," one of Aila's bodyguards sneered. "Hasn't the old man kicked the bucket yet?"

I lowered my head and held out the crumpled bills. "I need to buy his specialized medication. Please, just one dose. If my father doesn't get it, he'll die."

"Not for sale," Dr. Hillary Reed snapped as she strode over.

She was the head of the Jessi Charity Foundation. In the past, she had always treated me with deference, but now she stood with her arms crossed, her expression a mask of cold indifference.

"The CEO gave the order. Anyone kicked out of the Group is barred from using our medical resources."

I yelled, "My father is not a criminal! He's the former chairman! He was wounded for this company!"

"That was the past."

Hillary nudged her expensive leather shoe forward. "If you really want the medicine… well, this shoe of mine is a bit dirty. Clean it for me, and I might consider it."

The shoe was stained with coffee and mud.

A crowd of onlookers gathered—some were even people I had previously sponsored through the foundation.

They pointed and jeered.

"Look at Nathalia. She used to be so high and mighty, and now she's like a stray dog."

"Clean it, you washed-up princess!"

"Stop acting so proud!"

I clenched my fists until my nails dug into my palms. My father's pained moans echoed in my ears.

I dropped to my knees, my kneecaps cracking against the cold tile. Lowering my head, I took out my own handkerchief and began to wipe the filthy shoe. The bitter smell of coffee and the earthy scent of mud filled my nostrils. I fought the urge to gag.

I wiped once, then again.

A wave of jeering laughter swept through the crowd.

"She's actually doing it! She has no shame!"

A high heel pressed down on my hand. Aila had arrived.

She ground my knuckles into the tile, the pressure sharp and deliberate, until the skin broke and blood welled up.

"Nathalia, seeing you like this… it truly breaks my heart."

She squatted, leaning close to my ear. "Too bad. Darius just said you're not getting the medicine, even if you lick the floor clean. This is the punishment for a traitor."

I snapped my head up. "You were toying with me?"

"I was," Aila said, standing and clapping her hands cheerfully. "So what? You want to hit me?"

She took out a bottle of saline solution. "Want it?"

But just as I reached for it, the bottle slipped from her hand, spilling the liquid across the floor.

"Whoops, my hand slipped," Aila said, covering her mouth in mock surprise. "You want to save your father? You still can."

She smiled, her eyes sharp and cruel as she patted my cheek.

"Go to Darius's penthouse office tonight. He has something to say to you. Play your cards right, and maybe he'll show a little mercy."

...

For my father, I went to Darius's office.

The moment I pushed the door open, a gust of warm air hit my face, a stark contrast to the icy world outside.

Darius sat on a leather sofa, his gaze dark and cold, while Aila snuggled beside him like a lazy cat.

"You're here?" Darius swirled the red wine in his glass. "On all fours. Crawl over here like the dog you are."

I clenched my jaw, knelt on the floor, and crawled, step by agonizing step, toward him.

"The medicine? You promised me."

Darius planted his foot on my shoulder and pressed down hard. I felt as if my collarbone would shatter.

He snarled, "You still think you can save that useless father of yours, Nathalia? His greatest crime was stealing my father's glory."

I retorted, "That's a lie! During that crisis, it was your father who betrayed us! He colluded with competitors to become chairman, nearly bankrupting the company! My father was wounded saving everyone from his treachery!"

"Shut up!" Darius roared, slapping me hard across the face.

Blood trickled from the corner of my mouth, and my ears rang.

"You still dare to argue? Aila has already investigated it. It was your father who colluded with our rivals! He killed my father and forged the reports to steal the chairmanship!"

He pulled a yellowed document from his pocket and threw it in my face. "This is the proof!"

I didn't need to look to know it was a forgery.

Beside him, Aila giggled. "Darius, why waste your breath on a loser's daughter? Since she wants the medicine, just give it to her. We don't want to be called liars."

She picked up a small vial of deep blue liquid from the table and tossed it onto the floor. The glass vial rolled and stopped at my feet.

"Take it. This dose should be enough to save the old man's life."

Without a second thought, I snatched the vial and fled the office.

Back at the hospital, I carefully injected the medicine into my father's IV drip. Watching the fluid flow into his veins, my anxious heart finally settled.

"Dad, this is the specialized medication," I said, holding his hand, a glimmer of hope in my eyes. "When you get better, we'll leave this place. We'll go to a small town far away, where no one knows us."

My father smiled weakly, his eyes full of guilt. "Nathalia, it's all my fault. I'm so sorry I put you in this situation."

"No, it's not."

I took out the sandwich I had bought and poured a glass of hot water. "See, Dad, we can still survive. As long as we're alive, there's hope."

That night, for the first time in a long while, I had a good dream. In my dream, we had escaped and bought a new house by the sea.

But at dawn, the dream was shattered by the piercing alarm of the monitor.

I woke with a jolt. My father was curled into a ball, his body convulsing. The arm where I’d injected the drug had turned a horrifying shade of purple-black, and the vital signs on the monitor were plummeting.

"Dad! What's wrong?"

He clutched his throat, his eyes bulging. "It hurts… it hurts so much… like I'm on fire…"

He suddenly coughed up a mouthful of blood—black blood.

My blood ran cold.

A rejection reaction. This wasn't medication. It was poison—a substance designed to trigger a fatal allergic reaction!

"Dad!" I let out a heart-wrenching scream.

Without hesitation, I grabbed his hospital bed and ran toward the lobby.

The sky was just beginning to lighten. Darius and Aila were in the lobby, giving an interview for the morning news.

I shoved my father's bed in front of them. He was still vomiting blood, his body wracked with violent convulsions.

I shouted, "Darius! I'm begging you—save him! Give me the real antidote!"

Darius looked down at me, a scornful sneer on his face.

"Oh? Looks like that 'special medicine' was a bit too strong. The old man couldn't handle it, could he?"

Aila giggled, covering her mouth. "Oh, dear. I hope I didn't accidentally give her the wrong bottle."

"You two bastards!"

I tried to lunge at them but was pinned to the floor by security.

Aila strolled over and used the tip of her stiletto to lift my chin. "Such a pretty face. What a shame."

She pulled a syringe from her pocket and lazily waved it in the air.

"Want the antidote?"

She pointed to the dense crowd of reporters and their cameras.

"You've always said you were innocent, right? Go on. Since you want to save him so badly, go and admit that the kidnapping five years ago was your own fault, a result of your promiscuous lifestyle. Right here. In front of all the media."

"Admit you're responsible for the investment failure Darius oversaw, and I'll give you the antidote."

The lobby erupted. Every camera turned to me.

"My God," a reporter muttered. "This is huge."

They adjusted their equipment, eyes gleaming with excitement, and swarmed closer.

"No… don't…" I shook my head desperately.

"I am the former chairman's daughter. You can't—"

"Not anymore," Darius said coldly. "You're unwilling? Then you can watch your father die."

My father let out a pained scream as the poison ravaged his body.

"I'll do it! I'll do it!"

Tears streamed down my face as I pushed myself up with trembling hands and walked toward the wall of microphones. An icy chill seeped through my thin hospital gown, but I felt no cold—only a humiliation that cut to the bone.