Sloane’s POV

Watching Gunner walk away, I actually laughed.

I laughed so hard that tears spilled down my face—until the pain overtook me and everything went black.

That got me lying in the hospital for half a month.

And in all that time, the only person who came to visit me… was my assistant.

Not Gunner. Not a single member of my so-called family.

I looked at the scratch on my face in the mirror, and whatever love I still had for Gunner… chipped away just a little more.

The doctor said the scar could be removed with cosmetic treatment.

But I refused.

‘I want to see it. Every day. I want to remember what he did to me. Someday, I swear, I’ll let him go. Completely!’

“Miss Sloane, we should head out. I think I just saw Sir Gunner in the lobby.”

“Sure.”

Kaylee Norton, my assistant, gave me a strange look.

I guess she still hadn’t adjusted to how indifferent I sounded when we talked about him.

Everyone in the company knew—I was always chasing after him, throwing myself at a man who never once reached back.

I didn’t expect to run into him again so soon…

Especially not like this.

I was passing by another office after signing discharge papers, and I heard someone call his name.

“With all due respect, sir Gunner, are you out of your mind? You had her name tattooed there—of all places? Now, it’s inflamed! You seriously love that woman that much? I’m sorry, but you’re insane!”

And Gunner just smiled.

A warm, blissful, almost dreamy smile.

“You don’t get it,” he said. “All I think about is pinning her under me and making her cry for mercy. But I’m afraid I’ll scare her off. So to ease my longing, I had her name tattooed here—it makes me feel like she’s beneath me.”

Coming from a man like him—always cold, always in control—it didn’t sound vulgar.

It sounded… possessive. Addicted. Intimate.

And they hit me like a freight train. My knees buckled, and I had to take a step back.

My face looked probably as pale as a ghost.

Even my assistant could feel it—the way I started to shake.

I glanced inside the room. The doctor was treating him there—at the most private part of him.

He’d put Brandi’s name there. He didn’t care if it got infected.

‘How much do you have to love someone to do something like that?’

“Honestly, I don’t get what you see in her. Isn’t Miss Sloane better in every way?”

And just like that, Gunner’s face twisted in disgust.

“She’s not worthy,” he said flatly. “This place is reserved for Brandi only. There’s only one woman I’ve ever wanted—and that’s Brandi.”

That one sentence—so sharp, so brutal—cut deeper than anything he’d ever said to me before.

At that moment, I completely fell apart, utterly humiliated.

I couldn’t listen anymore—because I knew what would come next: more confessions of love, more worship for my sister.

Every word like a knife, every sentence a reminder that I was never enough.

“Miss Sloane,” Kaylee said gently, “Mrs. Heurich’s 80th birthday is coming up in a few days. You just got out of the hospital. Should I send your regrets?”

But it had been a while since anyone had seen me in public.

And there wasn’t time to order anything custom, so we went shopping instead.

“I’ll try all of these, please.”

“Right away, ma’am!”

But before I could step into the fitting room, the boutique manager rushed over—phone still in hand—and stopped the salesgirl.

“Sorry, ma’am. The Carnegies sole heir just bought everything in the boutique.

“All these dresses are to be sent to the Bloombergs’ place—for the youngest daughter. Hurry up and get them packed!”

I took a deep breath.

It took everything in me not to explode right there.

“Miss Sloane, I…”

I didn’t believe it at first.

I thought, ‘Fine—he bought out one boutique. What could he possibly do, buy out the whole street?’

It turned out… yes. Yes, he could.

Every boutique I entered. Every time I found something I liked. Every time I reached for my wallet—someone stopped me.

Every time, the same message.

“Send all of it to the Bloombergs’ place. It’s for the youngest daughter.”

I knew what Gunner was doing—he wanted to humiliate me.

This was payback after I gave Brandi’s script to another actress two days ago.

Sloane’s POV

He bought out the entire street—every boutique, every shoe store, every jewelry shop.

It didn’t matter what I wanted—clothes, heels, accessories. The second I stepped inside a boutique, he made a call, and everything—every last piece—was bought out.

“Miss Sloane, what’s the Carnegies’ heir trying to do?” Kaylee asked, frowning.

The so-called “Carnegies’ heir”?

What a joke. He wasn’t even using his real identity.

He was hiding behind the name of his nephew—“the sole heir”—because he was afraid that his own name would scare off my dear little sister.

And it worked.

Years ago, Brandi turned down the third son of the Carnegies couple.

But the moment “the Carnegies sole heir” started sending her gifts? She melted.

After all, the Carnegies sole heir’s reputation was far better than the third son’s.

The moment I stepped into the villa, I heard Brandi’s laughter echoing from the living room.

“Mom! Look at all this—clothes, shoes, jewelry! The Carnegies sole heir sent it all to me! What do you think it means?”

My stepmother looked like she’d won the lottery.

“Oh sweetie, you’re such a lucky girl! First the third son liked you, and now, the sole heir! Forget the third one—grab the sole heir while you can!”

Brandi definitely knew—she wouldn’t marry the third son even if it killed her. Rumor had it he was cruel, violent, and brutish.

And my stepmother even warned Brandi to stay far away from Gunner.

“Don’t get too close to him,” she said. “If the heir finds out, you’ll ruin your shot at marrying into that wealthy family.”

Now her entire mind was filled with the Carnegies sole heir. There was no room left for Gunner.

I couldn’t help it—I sneered. I wondered, ‘What would Gunner say if he saw how fast his dream wife dump him like this?’

The next day, I went back to the office.

Gunner was sitting behind his desk like he hadn’t just tried to humiliate me in front of the whole Los Angeles.

The memory made me feel cold all over my body.

“You really don’t know what kind of woman she is, do you?” I asked quietly. “You’re willing to do all this for her?”

“She’s kind. And you know I’m not. I already told you—every time you hurt her, I’ll make you pay for it ten times over.”

His words hit me, but I refused to flinch.

I met his eyes, steady and hollowed-out.

“Yeah, you said that,” I replied. “And you’ve certainly proven it.”

He paused for a moment, maybe caught off guard by my calmness.

But whatever he saw in my face, he brushed it aside like it meant nothing.

“Give that script back to Brandi,” he said. “Do that, and I’ll let this go.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then I’ll make sure you spend another two weeks in the hospital.”

I started shaking. I couldn’t stop. That pain—it haunted me every night, yet he talked about it so casually.

And then, the air around him changed. He looked at me like I was something disposable. Dangerous.

‘Like the smallest excuse will be enough to end me…’

I couldn’t help but think of everything I’d done for him and everything he did to me. ‘How come all I got in return was three words?’

“You deserve that.”

Just like that, he turned to leave.

“You love her that much?” I whispered, my voice cracking. “Do you even know what she took from me?”

For a moment, that stopped him from his tracks.

“You, Sloane, were born into a world where one word from you could ruin someone’s life. She’s gentle. She’s good. She never fought you, never stooped to your level. And if it hadn’t been for my plan five years ago to get close to her, you think I would’ve stayed anywhere near you?”

The moment he turned to leave, all the strength drained from my body and I collapsed to the floor with a loud bang.

Meanwhile, the news of the Carnegies sole heir’s kind gesture sent Brandi’s career soaring overnight.

After all, in Hollywood, being adored by a Carnegie was as good as a crown.

Brandi herself probably hadn’t expected she could catch the heir’s attention. I bet she was already dreaming of her place in his world as his wife.

And Gunner? He looked at her like her smile was so beautiful that even his heart—that cold, ruthless thing—softened for her.

At the Heurichs’ party, Gunner and Brandi both showed up.

Thanks to Gunner buying out every boutique in Los Angeles, I had nothing to wear.

In the end, I pulled out a dusty blue silk fitted dress from the back of my closet.

Sloane’s POV

I honestly couldn’t remember the last time I wore a fitted dress. Not since Gunner told me I didn’t look as good in one as Brandi would.

Never mind the fact that Brandi had never even worn one. Still, his words buried themselves under my skin and stayed there.

I stopped buying something like that after that.

Tonight, I caught the look in his eyes when he saw me. That flicker of something—recognition, maybe? Admiration?

But then it was gone, and I knew I’d just imagined it.

“Sloane! You look so beautiful!” Brandi said.

“She’s not as beautiful as you in a tight dress,” Gunner quickly cut in. “You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

He really always knew exactly how to twist the knife.

He knew how I felt about Brandi, and still, without any hesitation, he lifted her up and pushed me down—right in front of me.

I held myself together, barely.

I watched him fuss over my sister, hover around her like she was made of glass.

She barely had to say a word—just one look and he was already moving to please her.

I forced myself to walk away, not watch them, not let it sink in.

“Funny,” Brandi said. “You’ve always been close to him, but you never got him. Now look at him—completely, crazy in love with me. And he can’t stand the sight of you.”

I said nothing. But she wasn’t finished. She wanted me to break.

“You’re just like your mom. Nobody liked her either. No wonder you turned out this way. It’s pathetic, really—ah!”

She didn’t get to finish; my hands were already at her throat.

“You brat, you think I’m just going to let you run your mouth like that?”

She looked at me like a wild animal actually laying hands on her again after what Gunner did to my face.

“Sloane! How dare you hit me?! Dad’s not going to let you get away with this, you bitch—”

“No,” I said. “You and your mother are the bitches. Try looking in the mirror sometime.”

But then, suddenly, someone shoved me hard to the floor. I hit the ground, crashing into a vase.

No one heard it; the party was still loud outside.

“You really forgot what I told you, huh?!” Gunner’s voice was low and dangerous.

I looked up and saw it in his eyes—the intent to strangle me.

I shivered before I could stop myself. Remembering the last time he hurt me, fear overcame me again.

But asking me to let Brandi go? Not a fucking chance!

“You don’t even know what she’s done! And you still defend her like she’s—”

“Brandi’s kind!” he said, like it was gospel. “If anything happened, it was probably you. You’re the one who’s got the nerve to do dirty things. She’s not the type.”

He gathered Brandi in his arms, and right before he walked away, he looked back at me.

And I knew I was screwed.

As I expected, on my way back, his men dragged me into some storage room.

Gunner sat in the center like some kind of judge.

There was no warmth in him—just that blade he kept turning in his hands.

“Sir, we brought her,” said one of his men.

Gunner barely acknowledged it; he just kept playing with that knife... until he gave them the signal.

Quiet. Calm. Deadly.

“Strip her. Carve the word bitch into her skin. Let her feel it. Let the whole city know who the real bitch is.”

My lips parted, but no sound came out.

I thought maybe I’d heard wrong. But then I looked at his face and knew I hadn’t.

“The fuck, Gunner,” I whispered. “You’ve lost your goddamn mind!”

“Do it!”

I didn’t believe it… not until his men grabbed me and started tearing at my clothes!

The shame, the horror—it swallowed me... whole.

We were never in love. Sure. But still, I never thought… he could do that to me.

“Let me go!” I choked out. “One day, Gunner, you’re going to find out who she really is! And when you do, I hope you remember what you did to me!”

He just crouched down—that noble body of his—and then he grabbed my throat.

“She had bruises on her neck last time because of you,” he said. “You’re lucky she’s kind. Otherwise, you’d already be a corpse now.”

Staring at this merciless man I loved for eight years, I let all the fury I’d buried deep inside take over.