He turned to look at me.

"Deidre, since you've heard everything, I won't beat around the bush."

"I need you to play along until the curtain falls."

Acting—for professionals like us, it was as routine as breathing. But coming from the mouth of the man I loved, it was nothing short of laughable.

"Oh? And how would you like me to play it? What's the rate?"

Clyde ignored the mockery in my voice entirely. His expression was dead serious.

"I need you to keep being my fiancée. Keep up the public displays of affection. Keep being Victoria's foil. It won't be long. Two months, tops."

"Once her new drama wraps and my parents have fully accepted her, I can drop you without it getting ugly."

I could barely believe what I was hearing.

"How shameless can you possibly be? You actually think I'd agree to this?"

"You will."

Clyde pulled a check from his pocket and held it out to me.

"That's two million. When it's done, I'll give you another three. Five million buys me two months of your cooperation."

"You should think about that. At the rate you make doing bit parts, you wouldn't see that kind of money in ten years."

I looked at the check, and something inside me just hollowed out.

So that was it. My dignity, my feelings, who I was as a person—he'd priced it all at five million.

"What if I say no?"

My face was bloodless as I looked at him. "You planned that kidnapping, Clyde. I can go to the police. I can put you behind bars."

He looked at me like I'd told a joke. Nothing but contempt in his eyes.

"Then go ahead."

"Look at what you've actually got. You're the one who filed that report. The police already ruled it a random crime—nothing to do with anybody. And those videos, those photos? Every single one is real. No edits, no fakes. You've got nothing on me."

He studied me for a moment, then pressed his lips together.

"And you should know, with the kind of reach the Gilbert family has in Sterling City's elite circle, the second you say no, your parents back home get evidence that their daughter's been kept as some rich man's mistress. Your brother's school gets a tip that his sister is the industry's public entertainment. And your mother's little shop? It won't stay open."

Everything in me went cold. My head snapped up, and I locked every muscle to keep the trembling from showing.

"How do you know about my parents?"

Clyde shook his head with a small laugh.

"Deidre, you think I didn't run a background check before I picked you?"

"Where you're from, how many people in your family, what your parents do for a living, which school your brother attends, how much debt you owe. I know all of it."

My fists clenched so tight my nails bit into my palms, and the pain was the only thing keeping me conscious.

"So you're threatening me."

"Not a threat. A partnership."

Clyde corrected me. "You cooperate, I pay you, and your family stays safe."

"You don't cooperate, that's fine too. I'll just find someone else to be the foil. But Deidre, think carefully. If I replace you, those videos and photos aren't coming down."

"They'll stay up forever. People will keep digging into you, keep tearing you apart. Sooner or later your parents will see them. Your brother's classmates will see them. Is that what you want?"

My fists were clenched so hard my knuckles ached. In that moment, I wanted to kill him.

But I couldn't.

I stood there in the moonlight, my face white as paper.

Victoria lifted her gaze and gave me one slow, provocative look—then, just as fast, softened into that sweet, concerned mask.

"Clyde, maybe we should just drop it. Deidre's been through enough… We can find another way."

"No."

His voice was absolute.

"I've already come this far. I'm not stopping now. Besides—"

He glanced at me.

"Deidre's a smart woman. She'll agree."

I looked at him, a tangle of emotions knotting inside me.

Three years ago, when I first came to Sterling City, I was renting a partitioned room in Brookside District.

In winter there was no heating—I'd pile on three quilts and still lie there shaking.

I told myself back then:

Deidre, remember this. In this city, nobody is going to save you. You can only save yourself.

Three years of clawing my way to where I stood now. How much I'd suffered, how many humiliations I'd swallowed—only I knew.

I thought Clyde was my reward for all of it. Proof that the worst was behind me.

It wasn't.

He was just another lesson.

A crueler one.

I took a deep breath, lifted my head, and looked him straight in the eyes.

"Fine."

"I'll do it," I said, cold and level. "But when it's done, on top of the five million, you pay me half again as much."

Clyde raised an eyebrow. "Deal."

The moment I turned to leave, every trace of warmth dropped from my face. So from the very beginning, he'd treated this as a transaction and a performance.

Fine. I was a professional actress. I could give him the show of his life.

The next day. A brand event.

I wore a dress Clyde had picked out in advance.

Black. Deep V. Thigh-high slit. Sexy to the point of gaudy.

Normally I would have refused anything this revealing, but today I didn't.

Because I knew exactly what this dress was—Clyde's handpicked foil costume. Beside me, Victoria wore a little white cocktail dress, pristine and untouched, like some fairy descended from the heavens.

Black and white. Gaudy and pure. Tramp and sweetheart.

Every camera angle built the same story without a single word:

One cheap. One refined.

The venue was packed, camera flashes firing from every direction.

Clyde had one arm around my waist and a champagne flute in the other, all doting smiles for the cameras like I was the love of his life.

I leaned against his shoulder, smiling too. Stiff.

Victoria watched us. A flicker of jealousy crossed her eyes, but her composure held perfectly—even when the reporters came.

She smiled gently, voice like honey.

"I'm so happy Young Mr. Gilbert found someone he really likes. I wish them nothing but the best."

The murmuring started immediately:

"Victoria's so gracious. Everyone used to say she and Young Mr. Gilbert were a couple, and now that Deidre swooped in, she can still be this classy about it."

"Right? Deidre can't hold a candle to Victoria. No family background, no manners—and that dress she's wearing, honestly…"

Right on cue, Clyde dipped his head and murmured against my ear.

"Victoria's bracelet shifted. Go fix it for her."

I froze. "What?"

"Go fix her bracelet."

His voice was low enough that only I could hear, but the smile on his face was tender enough to look like a whispered endearment.

"Victoria's assistant didn't make it inside. She can't adjust it herself. Go. Make it look natural."

When I didn't move, his voice came again from above me, threaded with warning.

"Think about your brother. Think about your family. You'd better cooperate."

I took a breath and was about to step forward.

But Victoria was already walking toward me, champagne in hand.

"Deidre! I heard you and Clyde got engaged. Congratulations!"

Every camera in the room locked on us at once.

I had no choice.

I put on a perfect fake smile, walked over, and reached for Victoria's bracelet.

But the moment I leaned in, her hand tipped—and a full flute of champagne landed squarely on my dress.

Victoria clapped a hand over her mouth, tears flooding her eyes instantly.

"I'm so sorry, Deidre! My hand slipped. I didn't mean to!"

She was crying prettily, trembling all over, the picture of someone deeply wronged.

The whispers around us shifted direction immediately.

"What is wrong with that woman? Victoria was being gracious, and she goes and throws a drink on her?"

"Didn't you see? Victoria splashed her fir—"

"Victoria would never do that on purpose. Look at her crying like that, and Deidre's just standing there stone-faced. She's clearly the one making a scene!"

Everyone had seen exactly what happened.

Not one person spoke up for me.

I stood there in my soaked dress, dripping under every light in the room.

Clyde barely spared me a glance before hurrying over to console the teary-eyed Victoria, leaving me stranded alone in full public view.

"Oh wow, Deidre really went there! A wet-dress seduction at a public event—she must be desperate to move up."

"Get the camera on that. From this angle, she'll be front-page news by morning!"

"That figure, that cleavage. Unreal."

Gasps rippled through the crowd, punctuated by the relentless clicking of shutters.

I fled to the restroom. Clyde followed.

"Deidre, Victoria didn't do that on purpose. But honestly, the result worked out even better, didn't it?"

He held out a check as he spoke.

"I know tonight was rough on you. Consider this extra compensation."

I looked at the man in front of me, standing under the lights like some upstanding gentleman.

Too bad I knew exactly how disgusting he was underneath.

"Then thanks, I'll take it."

I didn't bother with politeness. I took the check.

The humiliation had already been paid for. Might as well make sure the money was, too.

I turned and walked into the restroom.

I took out my phone and sent a message to Noel Henson.

"Attorney Henson, I need you to draft an agreement for me."

The day before Victoria's new drama premiered—nine a.m. sharp—"Deidre Morton Escort Scandal" shot to number one on the trending list.

The attached photos were from a private club gathering I'd attended three months ago.

In them I wore a red dress, held a glass of wine, and was smiling while talking to a middle-aged man.

The angle was deliberately misleading, making it look intimate.

Comments poured in.

"Wow, spicy. She just got engaged and now escort photos surface? What kind of woman is she?"

"Run, Young Mr. Gilbert. Marry a woman like that and you're bringing home a ticking time bomb."

I closed the page and opened my own social media.

The comment section was already a wasteland.

"A slut like her finally gets what's coming? Hilarious. Thought you'd latched onto money, and now the whole internet's digging up your dirt."

"You think you're good enough to marry into the Gilbert family? Take a good look in the mirror."

"Sterling City's biggest slut. The title fits. Young Mr. Gilbert sure has interesting taste, hahaha."

"Heard she once knocked on a director's door just to land a magazine cover. Who knows if it's true, but with that face? I'd bet on it."

The comments were all abuse, wall to wall.

Once in a while someone tried to speak up for me and got buried instantly.

Then Clyde's phone rang. His mother.