Back then, I was still the untouchable heiress of the Graves family.

I paid off his father's gambling debts, and he became my most obedient dog.

In the three years we were together, his eyes were always dark and unreadable.

Then my true origins came to light. I was thrown out of the family overnight and became the laughingstock of the entire city.

And he knelt before the real daughter, pledging his loyalty.

Now I made my living changing hotel sheets. He was the soon-to-be son-in-law of the wealthiest family in the city.

He asked me, "Accepted your fate?"

"What else would I do?"

"...I won't allow it."

——

Won't allow it?

How laughable.

I stopped what I was doing and looked up at him.

The boy who used to stand in the rain in his school uniform, waiting for me to come pick him up, now wore a tailored suit and looked down at me from above.

"Mr. Henson, I'm Employee Number 0932 at this hotel."

I tossed the rag into the bucket. Dirty water splashed up and speckled the hem of his trousers.

"My job is scrubbing toilets and making beds. I've finished cleaning this carpet for you. Is there anything else you need?"

Howard Henson's hand shot out and seized my chin, fingers digging in hard.

"Stella Graves, who taught you to talk to me like that?"

"Life did."

My head was forced back, my eyes locked with his.

"Life taught me that if you don't have money, you get on your knees."

"You'd know that better than anyone, Mr. Henson. When your father owed half a million in gambling debts and they were cutting off his fingers, you knelt in front of me and begged just like this."

For those three years, I didn't just pay off his debts. I kept him by my side.

Everyone in our circle laughed at him, called him my well-trained dog.

One look from me, and Howard would dive into freezing water in the dead of winter to fish out my earring.

But now the tables had turned.

I was the fake. Vivienne Graves was the real one.

Howard Henson was now Vivienne's fiance, about to take over the Graves Group.

"Shut up."

His fingers traced along my jaw.

"Stella, that mouth of yours is still as vicious as ever."

"That's vicious?"

I let out a cold laugh.

"I'm just stating facts. All I'm good for now is making the bed and cleaning the room for you and your fiancee. Isn't that right?"

Just then, the suite door swung open.

"Well, well. If it isn't my dear sister."

Vivienne Graves sauntered in with a mocking smile, a handful of socialites trailing behind her.

The moment she spotted Howard gripping my chin, she pouted and hurried over to loop her arm through his.

"Howard, why are you touching that filthy thing? She was just scrubbing the toilet. I bet she didn't even wash her hands."

Howard released me. He took the handkerchief Vivienne offered and wiped each finger, one by one, the fingers that had just touched me.

Then he tossed the handkerchief in my face.

"Just teaching her some manners."

His voice was flat, indifferent.

Vivienne doubled over laughing. She nudged my knee with the toe of her shoe.

"You know, sis, you really brought this on yourself. Didn't have the blood of an heiress but played the part anyway. And now look at you, polishing shoes for real royalty like us."

She lifted her foot and waggled her stiletto in front of my face.

"I stepped in gum. Disgusting."

"Since you're the professional here, sis, why don't you clean it off for me?"

A ripple of laughter passed through the socialites.

Howard stood to the side, one hand in his pocket, watching with cold detachment.

"What's the matter? Don't want to?"

Vivienne's smile vanished. She snatched the glass of water from the table and flicked her wrist.

Water streamed down my hair and into the collar of my uniform.

"Stella Graves, do you still think you're some high-and-mighty princess?"

"This is a Graves hotel. I'm your boss. Try me, and I'll have someone strip you naked and throw you out on the street."

I closed my eyes and drew a long breath.

For thirty-five hundred dollars a month. For survival. What was dignity worth?

I lowered my head, picked up the rag, and leaned toward Vivienne's shoe.

"Not with the rag."

Vivienne's smile was venomous.

"I want you to use your fingers. Pick it off, piece by piece."

The jeering around us swelled louder.

I reached out. My hand was an inch from the shoe when a polished leather oxford swung in from nowhere and kicked my bucket across the floor.

Dirty water erupted in every direction, spattering Vivienne from hem to collar.

"Aah!"

She shrieked and stumbled backward.

"Howard! What the hell!"

Howard looked down at me, his expression utterly blank.

"Clumsy and slow. Watching you work kills my appetite."

He turned to Vivienne, something unreadable shifting behind his eyes.

"Tonight's engagement banquet is short a server for the wine. Send her."

Vivienne blinked. Then a knowing smile crept across her face.

"You always did know how to play. Making her watch us get engaged is so much better than making her scrub shoes."

She bent low, her lips brushing my ear.

"Remember to wear the staff uniform, dear sister. I arranged a little surprise just for you."

Vivienne had the floor supervisor issue me a uniform personally.

It was a black dress with the entire back cut away, the hem barely covering the tops of my thighs. The slightest bend would leave nothing to the imagination.

"Isn't that Stella Graves? She used to act so high and mighty. Now she's selling herself?"

"Got kicked out ages ago. She's just a waitress now."

"God, those legs though. Always thought she was a knockout. If I could get my hands on her for one night..."

Vivienne stood in the center of the grand hall on Howard's arm, basking in congratulations from every guest in the room. Howard remained detached as ever, taking the occasional sip of wine, but his gaze kept drifting, almost involuntarily, toward the corner where I stood.

Every time his eyes swept over me, goosebumps prickled up my spine.

"Hey, waitress. Why is this wine warm?"

A balding middle-aged man stepped into my path. His hand was already reaching for my waist.

I flinched back on instinct.

"Oh, playing hard to get?"

Samuel Lambert's face twisted with irritation, and he seized my wrist.

"Everyone here knows exactly what you are. How much for a night? Name your price."

"Let go."

I tried to wrench free.

"Drop the act! Back when you were the Graves family princess, I wouldn't have dared. But now? You're nothing but yesterday's trash!"

The crowd watched like it was dinner theater. Not a single person stepped forward. Someone let out a long, low whistle.

That was when Vivienne glided over.

"Mr. Lambert, what's the matter? Did this server forget her manners and upset you?"

Samuel's scowl melted into an oily grin.

"Oh, Miss Graves, I just wanted a drink, and this girl couldn't be bothered to serve me."

Vivienne turned to me. Every trace of warmth vanished from her face.

"Stella. Mr. Lambert is one of the Graves family's biggest clients. You think you can give him attitude?"

She snatched an unopened bottle of red wine from a passing attendant and slammed it down on the table.

"Since Mr. Lambert wants a drink, you're going to down this entire bottle. Consider it your apology."

It was a high-proof red. Forget the whole bottle; half of it would be enough to tear a stomach lining apart.

"I'm a server. I don't drink with guests."

Crack.

Vivienne shook out her hand, lip curled in disgust.

"You don't know when to take a gift. Fine. You won't drink? Then get on your knees and lick Mr. Lambert's shoes clean. Do that, and I'll let you go."

Every eye in the room locked onto me, waiting to see how the once-untouchable Stella Graves would be brought to her knees.

Half my face burned like it was on fire.

Howard stood just a few steps away, swirling the wine in his glass.

He didn't say a word. He just watched me with that half-smile that wasn't really a smile at all.

In that moment, the last flicker of hope inside me died.

Fine.

Fine.

I grabbed the bottle from the table, snatched up the corkscrew, and twisted the cork free in one clean motion.

"If I finish this, we're done here. Right?"

I stared straight at Vivienne.

"Of course." She folded her arms, her face alight with the look of someone settling in to enjoy a show.

I tipped my head back and pressed the bottle to my lips.

I didn't stop for air. The wine poured down my throat in heavy, unbroken gulps. Red rivulets escaped the corners of my mouth and trailed down to my collarbones.

The crowd around me started jeering. Some clapped. Some cheered.

Halfway through, my stomach revolted. A violent wave of nausea surged up my throat.

I clenched my jaw and forced it back down. Tears squeezed from the corners of my eyes.

Finally, the bottle was empty.

I slammed it down on the table so hard the glasses rattled.

"Done."

My body swayed, but I locked my knees and refused to fall.

"Satisfied, Miss Graves?"

Vivienne blinked, caught off guard for half a second.

"Not bad. You can hold your liquor."

She let out a soft laugh, then drove her foot into my ankle.

I lost my balance completely, pitching forward with nothing to catch me.

Crash.

The champagne tower came down in a cascade of shattering glass.

I landed on the wreckage. Shards sliced into my palms and knees, and I felt the sharp, wet sting of a dozen cuts opening at once.

Before I could even push myself up, Vivienne's voice split the air in a shrill, panicked scream.

"My necklace! My pink diamond necklace is gone!"

She jabbed a finger at me where I lay sprawled on the floor.

"It was her! She threw herself down on purpose so she could steal my necklace in the chaos!"

I lifted my head through the searing pain. Howard's voice cut through the noise.

"If something's missing, then search her."

His gaze swept over me, deliberate and pointed.

"Right here. Be thorough."

A security guard seized my arm and hauled me upright, not caring that glass was still embedded in my palms.

"Let go of me! I didn't steal anything!"

The alcohol burned like acid in my stomach. Cold sweat poured down my back.

"Didn't steal it? Well, strip her down and we'll know for sure, won't we?"

Vivienne stepped up onto the raised platform.

"With that dress, there's really only one place she could be hiding something, isn't there?"

A cluster of men in the crowd let out lewd, ugly laughter.

"That's right. The former Graves heiress, a real socialite. Who knows what kind of special tastes she's picked up."

The guard's hand reached for my neckline, already barely holding together.

Riiip.

Black fabric slid away, exposing a wide stretch of skin mottled with bruises.

I screamed and curled into myself, pressing both hands against my chest, trying to cover what was left.

My eyes found Howard through the blur of tears.

He had once sworn, "Anyone who touches a hair on your head, I'll destroy them."

Now he sat with a glass of wine, leaning toward the person beside him, murmuring something in low conversation. He didn't so much as glance in my direction.

"What are you waiting for? Strip her!"

Vivienne's voice cracked with impatience.

The guard grinned and reached for the hem of my dress.

"Hold on."

Howard rose and walked toward me, unhurried. The crowd parted for him without being asked.

He stopped in front of me. The polished toe of his shoe nudged a bloodied shard of glass out of the way.

"Howard, this thief stole my necklace." Vivienne's lips pressed into a thin, displeased line.

"You want every person in this city laughing at the Graves name?" Howard glanced at her, his voice flat and cold. "Does the family want their stock price to open tomorrow, or not?"

Vivienne's mouth opened, then closed.

"So we just... let her go?"

"Take her upstairs. My room."

Howard bent down, his face inches from mine.

"I'll handle the interrogation personally."

Before I could react, he grabbed my wrist, heedless of the glass still buried in my palm, and dragged me toward the elevator.