After finishing the drink, I held out my hand. "The check."

Georgia gave me a mocking look. "Worried Matthew won't follow through on his word?"

Matthew raised his hand, and his assistant immediately placed a check in front of me.

"Still as short-sighted as ever, I see, Miss Scott."

I lowered my gaze, slipped the check into my pocket, and then reached for another glass.

Ignoring the way Matthew and Georgia looked at each other, I downed one drink after another.

The pile of checks in my hand grew thicker with each shot.

Finally… I had the money.

Everything around me started to blur, but it didn't matter.

As long as Matthew would leave my family alone, I didn't care what I had to do.

I reached for another glass, but a strong hand suddenly grabbed mine. "That's enough!"

Matthew's face swam in front of me, his expression dark and stormy.

I shook my head. "No… it's not enough. Nowhere near enough…"

Not enough to fix the Scott Group's crisis.

The disgust in Matthew's eyes was impossible to miss.

Looking at him made my stomach twist.

I covered my mouth and bolted for the bathroom.

Leaning over the toilet, I threw up until there was nothing left inside me. I wished I could just empty everything out.

Matthew stood in the doorway, watching me. "Amelie, are you throwing up from the booze or because I make you sick?"

The words I'd thrown at him all those years ago, trying to push him away, flashed in my mind. My grip on the toilet tightened, my knuckles turning white.

"Does it even matter?"

He scoffed. "Amelie, you've really outdone yourself."

I stumbled out of the club.

It was early November, and Chicago's night wind was freezing.

It whipped around me, making my head spin even more.

I was walking down the street when someone ran up to me.

"Hey, do you need help?"

There was something strange in his eyes, something I couldn't figure out.

And then, in a flash, his unfamiliar face morphed into Matthew's.

"Matthew!"

I threw myself at him, sobbing. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!"

Tears spilled down my face as I kept apologizing over and over.

"Matthew" wrapped his arms around me, his hand rubbing soothingly across my back.

"Amelie, I've missed you so much."

His touch was gentle, his voice soft.

But when I tried to pull away, he just held me tighter.

Then, in the next moment, his voice turned cold, dripping with disgust.

"Look at you, Amelie. Don't you think you're pathetic? Is money all you care about now?"

I shook my head, frantic. "No, no, it's not like that…

"Matthew, look—this is our ring."

I shoved him back, yanking the necklace from around my neck and showing him the ring hanging from it.

"Are you crazy?!"

I hit the ground hard, scraping my arm on a jagged branch. Blood started to drip down.

The illusion in front of me vanished, and the man I had mistaken for Matthew stepped back, looking at me like I was contagious.

Suddenly, I heard the screeching of tires.

The next second, a familiar pair of arms pulled me into an embrace.

"Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

Before I could even answer, the world spun, and the alcohol dragged me under.

When I woke up, I was in a strange room.

"You're awake?"

Matthew stood in the doorway, a document in hand.

He walked to the side of the bed, his eyes briefly lingering on my face, his expression unreadable.

Without a word, he tossed the document onto the bed.

"Take a look. If everything's fine, sign it."

I reached out, noticing the bandage wrapped around my arm.

Memories from last night rushed back, and I couldn't help but laugh bitterly.

It was a contract for keeping me as his mistress.

He'd pay me, and I'd sell my body.

"Ten million dollars a month. I'm sure you'll be more than happy with that, Amelie. You need the money, don't you?"

Matthew pulled out the chair beside the bed and sat down, looking at me with cold indifference.

"With Scott Group in the state it's in, there's no way you'll get a loan now."

My hand trembled as I held the contract, his voice icy in my ears.

"If you don't sign this, you'll regret it."

He paused before adding, "Oh, by the way, Scott Group's stock just crashed today."

It was like lightning had struck. I turned my head sharply to stare at him.

And then, my phone rang.

It was Tom, my father's secretary.

"Miss, you need to get to First Hospital right away. Your father had a heart attack. They're trying to save him."