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.

Sloane’s POV

“Is that supposed to shock you?” I shouted. “Well, guess what?

“I once shoved her into a pit of human waste. Ripped her homework, smashed her cake, tore her dresses to shreds! If murder weren’t illegal, she’d be long dead by now!

“She deserves it! She deserves to die! Why should she get to live so well?”

But none of it was true. It was all the kind of thing Brandi did to me.

But if Gunner wanted to believe it, if this was the version of me he needed to hate, then fine. I’d be her.

I’d let him hate me. I wanted to see how far he was really willing to go for my half-sister.

“Sloane, hah, you’re begging to die.”

He turned to one of his men.

“Give me the knife. I’ll do it myself.”

The first cut fell, and with it, the very last tear I would ever cry for Gunner.

I swear, no more after this.

That single tear landed on his hand, and I saw it—it shook him.

But not enough.

He kept going. Slash after slash across my skin, cold steel biting into white flesh.

It hurt. God, it hurt! I might as well die!

But I didn’t make a sound. My lips were torn from how hard I bit them. Blood filled my mouth.

My sweat soaked through my hair, but my eyes—my eyes stayed dry.

I just kept staring at him. I wanted to see when he would stop.

With every stroke of the blade, my love for him drained out.

By the time he carved the final letter, my love for him was completely gone.

He looked at his work, satisfied. He expected me to beg. To apologize.

But when he looked into my eyes, they had become empty and lifeless. He glanced at the blood on the tip of the knife, his hand trembled, and he threw me to the ground...

As if not looking me in the eye would spare him from guilt.

Using the last of my strength, I stood up. Every movement trembled with pain, but I still pulled what was left of my clothes around me.

“May I go now, third son of the Carnegies?”

He gripped the knife tighter. He hadn’t expected this—my calmness.

For some reason, he didn’t dare turn around and face me. He probably didn’t want to see the eyes I now had—utterly still, like a pool of dead water.

I bet it frightened him, so he chose to ignore me.

I should go to the hospital, but I went home instead.

I didn’t even make it past the front door before I heard my father’s voice.

“I—I don’t mean to offend Mr. Astor. It’s not that we don’t want to agree with his proposal—it’s just that my youngest daughter and the heir of the Carnegies are… very close. We didn’t mean to go back on our word.

“Maybe we let her sister marry him instead? She’s single, after all.”

I stepped into the room. I was weak and bleeding but upright.

“I’ll marry him,” I said. “But I have two conditions.”

My father turned, stunned. He didn’t expect me to agree.

“Of course, of course—anything. Just say the word.”

“I want to take the money with me. And I want the company shares in cash and transferred to my account.”

They didn’t see it coming. I was walking away from the company—Premier Collective.

That was something they wouldn’t have dared dream of. After all, it was the very company my grandmother left to my mother.

It was worth billions now. My shares alone were worth at least seven billion.

Brandi had spent her whole life dreaming of taking it from me. She wanted to be the heiress, a true Bloomberg.

But she and her mother didn’t have the money. Not even close. Well, the Carnegies had, and so Brandi turned to that elite family—especially to their sole heir.

One little pout from her, a few sweet words, and just like that, they agreed. They just needed an hour to get the funds together.

But I knew who was on the other end. It wasn’t the Carnegies sole heir.

It was Gunner, the third son.

“Since Mr. Astor doesn’t like lively occasions like a wedding,” I told the assistant, “I’ll move in tomorrow.”

“Of course, Miss Sloane! Anything you say. Mr. Astor said it clearly—whatever you say, he agrees.”

Sloane’s POV

An hour later, the amount corresponding to my company shares reflected on my account. The price it took for Mr. Astor to marry me, too.

I packed only what I needed. Everything else? I told them to throw it out.

The next morning, I went to the company to gather the last of my things.

Gunner was there.

He saw me. My face was pale, but I stood tall.

And somehow, that made him look… less guilty.

But when he saw me packing, he stopped me.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

‘Awesome. After everything he’s done to me, he still has the nerve to ask.’

“I have a surprise for you later,” I said.

My voice was light. Almost playful. He hadn’t seen me smile in so long, it startled him. But when I said the word surprise, he didn’t look excited.

He looked afraid.

By late afternoon, I glanced at the clock. The perfect time had come.

“Gunner,” I said, “Did you know I loved you for eight years? But now, I—”

Before I could finish my sentence, his phone rang. He quickly picked it up and left without looking at me.

No doubt it was Brandi, the only one who could make him run like that.

When I saw Assistant Phil again, he noticed how little I was carrying.

“Miss Sloane, shall we go back and help you with the rest of your luggage?”

“No need,” I said. “I believe Mr. Astor won’t let me lack anything. What I left behind was trash. Let it rot.”

On the way, I tossed out my SIM card.

All the memories attached to it should just die there.