When night finally settled in, I stepped onto the rooftop bar, the city unfurling below like a sea of lights, endless and glittering. The wind teased loose strands of my hair while distant music blended with laughter and the clink of glasses. I took a slow breath, steadying myself, and let my eyes roam across the crowd.

And then I saw him.

Sebastian stood by the railing, tall and composed, as if the chaos of the world couldn’t touch him. A glass of whiskey rested loosely in his hand, the neon glow carving his profile into something sharp and unyielding.

I took a seat at the edge of a shared table, exchanging polite smiles, offering light conversation when spoken to. Outwardly, I fit in. But my gaze betrayed me—it kept drifting back to Sebastian. He never once looked in my direction.

As the night deepened and alcohol loosened tongues, someone shouted for a game of Truth or Dare. Cheers erupted. When it was Sebastian’s turn, he chose truth without hesitation.

A man across from him leaned forward, clearly entertained. “Alright, Hawthorne. Be honest—what kind of person do you despise the most?”

The laughter faded.

Sebastian traced the rim of his glass slowly before answering. “I can’t stand people who want everything. The kind who profit from one side, then turn around and demand rewards from the other.”

He paused.

Then he turned his head.

His gaze cut straight through the space between us and locked onto mine.

“Do you know what that’s called, Vivienne?”

Ice flooded my veins.

For a heartbeat, the entire rooftop fell silent. Then someone laughed too loudly, cracked a joke, and the noise returned, awkward and forced.

Sebastian murmured a brief apology to the group and stood, clearly intending to leave.

“Sebastian—wait, please,” I called, already moving after him.

I barely made it around the corner before someone seized my wrist.

“He doesn’t want to see you,” a familiar voice sneered. “Why do you keep chasing him? Are you really that shameless?”

Maximilian.

Again.

His fingers bit into my skin. I struggled, but he didn’t budge. “Let go of me. This has nothing to do with you.”

A calculating glint flashed in his eyes. He snapped his fingers.

Two men appeared instantly, each grabbing one of my arms.

“Let me go! Maximilian, what are you doing?!” I shouted, panic surging.

“Calm down,” he said gently, almost tenderly.

Before I could react, one of the men forced a small red pill past my lips, holding my jaw so I couldn’t spit it out.

“Mmph—!”

I gagged, but Maximilian pressed a glass of liquor to my mouth. The alcohol burned as it slid down my throat, sending me into a fit of coughing, tears stinging my eyes.

He watched with a look of quiet satisfaction.

Heat rushed to my face. My breathing turned shallow, uneven. He waved the men away, slipped an arm around my waist, and pulled me close.

“Easy,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”

He dragged me down the corridor toward his suite. The drug made the world tilt and blur. I pushed weakly at his chest, though it probably looked like I was clinging instead of resisting.

And then I saw him.

Sebastian stood at the far end of the hallway, his eyes fixed on Maximilian’s arm wrapped around me.

“…Vivienne.”

The sound of my name twisted my heart painfully. He started toward us, fast and purposeful.

I tried to reach for him. “L-Sebastian, please, help—”

Maximilian cut in smoothly. “Don’t make a scene. You drank too much and came looking for me. You begged for another night—just like the one in the presidential suite.”

“No,” I breathed. “That’s not true.”

My voice was barely audible.

“Shh,” Maximilian whispered, brushing away a tear from my cheek. “Don’t talk nonsense. Mr. Hawthorne is watching.”

Then he lifted his gaze to Sebastian, his smile turning razor-sharp.

“Mr. Hawthorne, do you plan to interfere? Vivienne belongs to me. I intend to marry her. Do you really think I’d hurt her? You’d be wise to keep your distance.”

Sebastian stopped.

His raised hand hesitated—then fell slowly to his side.

Something inside me went numb.

The last fragile hope I’d been clinging to shattered in that moment.

I stopped resisting. My body went slack as Maximilian hauled me back to his private room.

The door slammed shut. He threw me onto the leather sofa, my limbs heavy and unresponsive. Through the haze, I saw his shadow loom over me, his fingers undoing the buttons of his shirt one by one.

The final thing I saw was his smile hovering above me before the world went black.

---

I woke slowly, blinking against the harsh glow of a chandelier. My head throbbed, my body screamed with soreness, and my skin felt raw, hypersensitive. A bitter taste crawled up my throat. I leaned forward, retching, though only sour liquid came up.

I pulled my dress back into place, adjusting it enough to look barely decent, and forced myself upright. My legs wobbled beneath me, but somehow I made it out of that suffocating room and into the cool night air.

The parking lot lights flickered weakly. For a moment, I wanted nothing more than to collapse.

Then I saw him.

Sebastian.

He leaned against his Bentley, a cigarette burning between his fingers, as if he’d been waiting. When he noticed me stumbling toward my car, his entire posture changed. He dropped the cigarette, crushed it underfoot, and strode toward me.

“Vivienne…”

I froze.

The hand he reached out with—I recognized it. The same hand that had pushed me away earlier. The same hand that had left me at Maximilian’s mercy.

I shook my head and stepped back.

“Don’t,” I whispered.

His brows pulled together in concern, but I didn’t allow him to come any closer. I turned my back on him and kept walking, even though every step sent a sharp ache through my body.

I reached my car, yanked the door open, and slammed it shut behind me. The moment I was alone, I folded forward, my forehead hitting the steering wheel. A broken sound slipped out of my throat—small, weak, nothing like the woman I was supposed to be.

By four in the morning, I finally dragged myself home, eyes swollen and burning. I went straight to the bathroom and scrubbed my skin raw under the shower spray. No matter how much soap I used, I could still smell him. I knew better than to think of calling the police. My father would never allow it. If I tried, he would only silence everything and hurry me into the Hartman family even faster.

I clenched my teeth and told myself it was fine. Just endure it. Pretend it meant nothing. Treat it like a bite from a stray dog.

When I stepped out of the bathroom, exhaustion hit me all at once. I collapsed onto my bed, and my hand brushed against the framed photo on the nightstand. My mother smiled up at me from behind the glass.

She died when I was twelve.

The day my father brought his mistress into our home—parading her openly—my mother’s heart shattered. She never recovered from that humiliation. She faded, slowly and painfully, until she was gone. That was the day hatred took root inside me. But I had been too young. Too weak to fight back. Ever since then, every year on the anniversary of her death, I was forced to lower my head before my stepmother.

I stared at my mother’s gentle smile and whispered, “Mom… I tried. I was given another chance, and I really tried to change my fate. I tried not to let anyone control me. Was I wrong?”

Moonlight spilled softly across the room. I clutched the photo to my chest and drifted into sleep. In my dream, my mother’s hand brushed my cheek.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she said softly. “Those who truly love you will always understand.”

Then the dream twisted—back to last night. The leather sofa. The suffocating air. My own helpless body.

When I woke, tears were already sliding down my face.

I forced myself to get dressed, to look presentable, but before I could finish, a knock sounded at the door.

“Miss,” the butler said from outside, “the young master of the Hartman family is here to formally propose. Please come to the front hall.”

My heart dropped straight to my stomach.

Maximilian moved fast. Far too fast.

I steadied my breathing and walked out. Before I even entered the hall, I heard his voice—smooth, composed, as though nothing could ever shake him.

“Mr. DeLacroix,” Maximilian was saying, “I sincerely wish to marry Vivienne. I’ll treat her properly. I hope to receive your blessing.”

My father looked more than satisfied. “If that’s the case, we’ll arrange for a compatibility check tomorrow.”

My chest tightened painfully.

Marry him?

That was the same as stepping straight back into his cage. And I remembered all too clearly how that had ended.

No. Never again.

“Dad,” I said, stepping forward, “I’m willing to marry into the Hartman family. But I have two conditions.”

My father’s smile vanished instantly. “Vivienne, don’t overstep.”

Maximilian’s gaze locked onto me. There was danger in his eyes, though his voice remained calm. “Go on. Say it. If it’s within my power, I’ll give it to you.”

I drew in a deep breath. This was a risk—but I had to take it. “I want a dowry of two billion dollars. And I want all the land your family is developing in Uptown—transferred entirely into my name.”

I kept my spine straight, refusing to flinch, secretly hoping he’d be furious enough to walk away.

Instead, his lips curved into something that was almost a smile.

He leaned back, studying me as if I were a riddle he enjoyed tearing apart.

“Two billion… and Uptown,” he repeated slowly, savoring each word. “You surprise me, Vivienne. I think I’m going to enjoy this marriage.”

My heart clenched hard.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

The weight in his voice made my instincts scream at me to run. My gaze drifted toward the entrance without meaning to.

And then I saw him.

Sebastian.

My breath caught.

He stood in the doorway, tall and imposing, his broad shoulders filling the space. His dark suit was sharply cut, his presence alone enough to shift the atmosphere of the room. But his face—his face was distant, unreadable. When his eyes met mine, my body froze.

My father immediately stood, smiling awkwardly. “Mr. Hawthorne? I wasn’t expecting you this evening. Is there something urgent?”

Sebastian glanced at me for a brief second before turning to my father. “Mr. DeLacroix. I came here tonight to propose.”

My heart slammed violently against my ribs.

This is it.

“I want to marry Miss Camille DeLacroix.”

What…?

The words knocked the breath out of me completely.

For a moment, I couldn’t move. Couldn’t even think. My chest constricted so tightly I thought I might pass out. In my previous life, Sebastian had never married anyone. He had been mine in his quiet, stubborn way. I remembered how his ears would turn red whenever he tried to speak to me, how he had given up everything—his wealth, his pride—just to fight for me, even risking his life to buy my freedom.

And now he stood here, asking to marry my sister.

My illegitimate sister.

My lips parted, but before I could say a word, Camille rushed forward.

“Dad!” Her voice was sharp and frantic. “I don’t want to marry him! I love Maximilian!” She pointed straight at the man beside me.

Maximilian only leaned back lazily in his chair, the corner of his mouth lifting into that familiar, dangerous smirk.

“Please, Dad,” Camille cried, “I don’t want Sebastian. Let Vivienne marry him instead. They’re the ones who make sense together. Why don’t we just… switch?”