At the engagement banquet, during the exchange of tokens, Laurence Morton did it right in front of everyone.

He placed the Morton family heirloom jade pendant—the one that was supposed to belong to the bride—around his assistant Camille Harding's neck.

The guests exchanged uneasy glances, their eyes drifting toward me with pity.

Laurence pinched Camille's cheek, his tone careless and indulgent.

"It's not like you could produce anything of equal value anyway. Let's just skip this part."

"The poor girl's been having nightmares lately. The pendant will keep her safe and bring her peace."

"And stop making that miserable face. I'm already marrying you. What more could you possibly want? Don't be greedy."

Camille clung to his arm, beaming with satisfaction.

The Morton family pendants were traditionally a matched pair—one for husband, one for wife.

The spotlight fell on my bare neck like a slap across the face.

I smiled, then burned the share-transfer deed I'd prepared as my gift to him, right there on the spot.

"You're right. I shouldn't be greedy."

"So your fiancé? I'll throw him in as a gift for her too."

——

Silence swallowed the room. The only sound was paper curling in the flames.

Laurence's brow darkened with displeasure.

"Gillian Wiley, it's just a pendant. Do you really have to be this petty?"

"Stop making a scene. Finish the ceremony like a good girl, and I'll pretend you didn't just run your mouth. I'll forgive you."

I looked at him—that lofty expression, those eyes dripping with condescension, as if everything he offered was charity.

Revulsion coiled in my gut. I wrenched my hand free of his.

"Does Mr. Morton not understand plain English?"

"Then let me spell it out. The engagement is off. We're done."

The air pulled taut.

Camille walked over with a smile, playing peacemaker.

"Gillian, he's just worried about my health. Don't blame him."

She pressed something into my hand, forcing my fingers around it.

"Here—as compensation. I had someone make a matching one just for you."

"But I'm not like you, living off a man's wallet. Real jade was too expensive for me, so I had to make do with a beer bottle. I hope you won't mind."

I'd coordinated my gown with Laurence's suit for today—matching colors, as couples do at their engagement.

The joke was that Camille's gown was identical to mine.

The day I'd ordered it, only Laurence and I had been there.

He must have told her. He must have gone out and bought her the exact same one.

Now the two of them stood side by side in their matching outfits, wearing the paired heirloom pendants that symbolized husband and wife, looking for all the world like the real couple of the evening.

And I was the fool.

I seized the red cord around Camille's neck and yanked her toward me, my voice cold as a blade.

"Rotten men don't interest me, Camille. Never have. If you enjoy picking through the garbage, he's all yours."

"But you had the nerve to provoke me to my face. So I think I'll take my payback now. How about I use this little 'compensation' of yours to carve a line across that pretty cheek?"

The edges of the beer-bottle knockoff were razor-sharp. One careless touch could slice skin.

Scheming down to the last detail.

Camille's face drained of color. Her eyes glistened, and she turned to Laurence with a trembling lip.

"Laurence, look at her... I'm so scared..."

Pain shot through my wrist, forcing me to let go.

Laurence pulled Camille behind him and shoved me back.

"Camille didn't say anything wrong. What gives you the right to touch her? I skipped the token exchange to save YOUR face!"

"The Morton heirloom pendant is worth a fortune. You're a freeloader—a parasite who can't survive without me. What could you possibly offer in return? Learn to be grateful!"

"And don't think I don't know what you burned. Those scraps of paper were your little wish list, weren't they? Your demands for the wedding gifts? What's the matter—even you realized how greedy it looked, so you were too embarrassed to let anyone see?"

Even though I'd already decided to end things, hearing those words still felt like a wad of cotton had been shoved into my chest.

Suffocating. Unbearable.

Laurence didn't like me showing my face in public, and he refused to eat out. So I'd willingly become the woman behind the curtain, content to stay in his shadow.

Four years of genuine devotion, and in his eyes, I was nothing but a gold-digging parasite.

He had no idea that those papers weren't some bridal gift checklist.

They were share-transfer documents worth over a hundred million dollars.

I looked at him steadily.

"Laurence, you know exactly what that jade pendant represents. It marks the matriarch of the Morton family."

"And you gave it to Camille. What does that make me?"

Laurence let out a derisive laugh, one brow arching high.

"Camille is an outstanding professional and my right hand at the company. She deserves it."

"You're deadweight. A woman who can't survive without a man to bankroll her. The fact that I agreed to this engagement at all was already more than you deserved."

"Gillian, I'm telling you to quit while you're ahead. Walk through the motions like a good girl. If you want a jade pendant so badly, I'll pick one up at an antique auction for you later. But if you keep throwing tantrums, don't blame me when I cut you loose for real."

He still didn't understand.

It was never about the object. It was about what it meant.

Or maybe, in his mind, my feelings had never mattered to begin with.

"Is that so? Be my guest."

I said it calmly, then turned to leave.

But several bodyguards blocked my path at the door, forming a wall across the exit.

Laurence drained the last of his red wine, his tone lazy and unhurried.

"Gillian, since you insist on breaking things off, shouldn't you return what's mine first?"

"Don't forget. That gown you're wearing? I paid for it."

His gaze carried a chill.

"So take it off."

I froze.

I'd come straight here in the gown. I hadn't brought a change of clothes.

And Laurence knew that.

Looking at that familiar face, a bitter laugh almost escaped me. I must have been truly blind back then, falling for someone like him.

One of the guests couldn't bear it any longer and spoke up. "Mr. Morton, there are so many people here. Miss Wiley is still a lady. Surely you could leave her some dignity."

Laurence crossed one leg over the other, unmoved.

"That's exactly the problem. I gave her too much face in the past, and it only made her more willful. It's time she learned to behave."

"Gillian, if you don't want to strip, just say you were wrong. Promise you'll stop making things difficult for Camille, and the engagement banquet can continue."

Camille perched herself on his lap, covering her mouth with a coy giggle.

"Gilly, he's already giving you a way out. Why be so stubborn?"

"Don't worry, nobody here will judge you for going back on your word. After all, we've all seen plenty of women like you."

Laurence gave her waist an affectionate squeeze, clearly pleased with how she'd put me in my place.

The gawking stares of the crowd scorched me like open flame.

Shame surged through my chest, thick and scalding.

This was exactly what Laurence wanted.

He wanted me to understand that I was nothing more than a plaything tethered to him. He could grant me dignity, and he could crush it whenever he pleased.

Just as everyone expected me to cave, I pulled the gown off without a flicker of expression, lifted it, and tossed it into the trash can beside me.

I walked out of the hotel without looking back, ignoring the shock frozen in Laurence's eyes.

Outside, it had started to rain.

I thought about hailing a cab, but my phone was already dead. My ID was still back at the villa. All I could do was walk home through the downpour.

The thin camisole and shorts I'd had on underneath soaked through in seconds, clinging to my skin. Passersby turned to stare.

It was nearly eleven at night by the time I reached the villa. The streets were dead silent.

Three punks with bleached-blond hair had appeared behind me at some point. They whistled at me every few steps, and no matter what I did, I couldn't shake them.

Unease crawled up my spine. I broke into a run toward the house.

But when I reached the front door, I discovered the lock code had been changed.

The three of them stood under a tree a few yards away, leering at me with disgusting grins. Like they were watching a show. Like they were watching a meal, waiting to devour it whole.

Every hair on the back of my neck stood on end. I slammed the doorbell over and over, but no one answered.

Then a second-floor window flew open. Laurence appeared, shirtless.

He tossed my suitcase out the window without a second thought. The light caught the hickeys scattered across his neck, vivid and fresh.

"Gillian, I thought you were so full of pride? Then take your trash and get the hell out of my house."

"I've already frozen your cards. That pitiful balance in your bank account probably won't even cover half a month's rent."

I didn't have time for his contempt. Panic overrode everything else.

"Laurence, there are men following me. Can you at least let me inside first?"

"Or call the police for me. My phone's dead. They're right there under that tree. If you don't believe me, come down and look for yourself!"

Laurence froze. Instinctively, he turned.

"What? Don't be scared, I'll come down right—"

A pair of pale, slender arms hooked around his elbow and pulled him back.

Camille stood there wearing my lace nightgown, smiling down at me with pure provocation.

"Oh, Gillian, this is an exclusive gated community. Without a resident's permission, security won't let strangers in."

"You publicly called off the engagement today and humiliated Mr. Morton. You won't even apologize, and now you're making up lies to manipulate him? Have you no shame at all?"

"Mr. Morton, if you don't teach her a lesson this time, people will walk all over you."

Laurence's expression shifted. He looked down at me with open disgust.

"Gillian, I didn't realize you were this calculating. Tonight you can kneel out there and let the rain wash some sense into that head of yours."

"Tomorrow morning, I want to see you go live online, begging me to take you back."

"And remember—without me, you're nothing. A woman I've already used up isn't worth a damn thing anymore."

He shut the window without hesitation.

Behind the curtains, two silhouettes tangled together in shameless abandon.

My heart went cold, inch by inch.

The three punks grinned and started toward me, tongues dragging across their lips.

"Hey, sweetheart, your man's busy with his new girl. Can't even be bothered with you. Why humiliate yourself? Come play with us instead."

"Don't worry, we don't pay for it. A used-up piece like you isn't worth the money anyway. Ha ha ha ha..."

They clamped a hand over my mouth and dragged me toward a dark corner.

I thrashed and fought. Then someone came running out, wielding a stick.

It wasn't Laurence.

It was a middle-aged couple who also lived in the villa community. They'd just gotten back from out of town and had been sitting in their car talking when they witnessed the whole thing.

The three punks bolted the moment they realized they'd been seen. They were too fast to catch.

I picked up my suitcase and politely declined the couple's offer to let me stay at their place for the night. The woman insisted on giving me two outfits from when she was younger, then drove me to a nearby hotel.

Laurence really was ruthless. To force me into submission, he'd kept all the jewelry he'd ever given me.

Not that I cared. Things like that? I'd never been short of them.

I borrowed a charger from the front desk and made plans to fly home the next morning.

But on the way to the airport, the driver suddenly changed direction.