I stared at the fried eggs scattered in the trash, and my chest tightened.

Back then, I'd hated how bland cucumbers tasted and made him switch to lettuce.

To please me, he'd forced himself to get used to it.

Now he didn't even want the cucumbers he used to love.

"Sorry. I didn't know your preferences."

I crouched down and started cleaning up the mess.

A shard of porcelain sliced my finger. Blood beaded up.

Anthony didn't even glance at it. He stepped over me and grabbed a bottle of Evian from the fridge.

"There's a banquet tonight. You're coming."

His tone was ice.

"With my current status, it's not appropriate—"

"What status?" He cut me off with a sneer. "A prostitute? Or Miss Sullivan?"

I had no answer.

"If you're going to be arm candy, act like it."

He tossed me a black gift box.

"Put this on. Don't embarrass me."

That afternoon, a stylist came to do my hair and makeup.

When I opened the box, I found a red, skintight spaghetti-strap dress.

There was barely any fabric. The entire back was bare, the slit climbing all the way to my upper thigh.

This was something a nightclub dancer would wear—not a gown for a business banquet.

But I had no right to refuse.

After putting it on, I stood before the mirror and lowered my eyes. The woman staring back looked no different from an antique on an auction block.

Eight o'clock that night. Harborview City's largest banquet hall.

I walked in on Anthony's arm.

Instantly, countless gazes landed on me.

"Isn't that Miss Sullivan?"

"What Miss Sullivan? The Sullivans went under ages ago. I heard she'll do anything to pay off debts."

"Tsk. Dressed like that—she's probably being kept by Mr. Vance, huh? She used to act like she was better than everyone."

Anthony acted like he heard nothing, guiding me through the crowd.

Those trust-fund kids who used to swarm around me—now they looked at me with something between mockery and hunger.

A potbellied man named Jesse Lambert walked over, wineglass in hand.

"Mr. Vance, you've got good taste. This one looks familiar—killer body."

His eyes crawled over my chest.

Instinctively, I shrank behind Anthony.

But he stepped aside, leaving me fully exposed to Lambert's gaze.

He sipped his champagne, a lazy smile playing on his lips.

"It is pretty killer. If Mr. Lambert's interested, I'll have her pour you drinks sometime."

I looked up at him.

No protection in his eyes. Only cold satisfaction.

"Then it's a deal!" Lambert reached out, fingers aimed at my waist.

I forced myself to dodge, swallowing back nausea.

"Oh, she's got some fire." Lambert's expression soured.

"That's what makes the training fun, isn't it, Layla Sullivan?"

Anthony turned to me. His voice was soft—the kind of softness that made your skin crawl.

I lowered my head.

"Yes. Mr. Vance is right."

Just then, Audrey glided in wearing a white custom couture gown, a designer bag hooked over her arm.

The moment she spotted Anthony, a sweet smile bloomed across her face.

"Anthony! Traffic was a nightmare—I'm so late."

He left me behind and strode toward her, his arm sliding naturally around her waist.

Audrey seemed to notice me only then, covering her mouth in exaggerated surprise.

"Oh! Isn't that Layla? Long time no see—why are you dressed like this..."

A flash of vicious satisfaction flickered in her eyes, but her face stayed painted with concern.

"Have things been rough? You've gotten so thin you barely look like yourself."

She stepped closer. The hand holding her red wine trembled.

The wine splashed straight onto my chest.

I raised my hand to block her, and the back of my hand grazed her wrist.

"Ah!"

Audrey cried out as the glass shattered across the floor.

She clutched her wrist, eyes glistening, and looked at Anthony. "Anthony, I just wanted to say hello to Layla. She still blames me for taking you away."

The room went silent.

Anthony strode over, checked Audrey's wrist, then turned to me. "Layla, are you looking to die?"

The injustice—the bone-deep cold—made my whole body shake. "I didn't push her. She spilled it on herself."

"Why would Audrey spill red wine on herself?" He sneered. "Apologize to her."

No trust in his eyes. Only disgust.

Audrey tugged his sleeve, her voice soft. "Anthony, forget it. Layla didn't mean to. So many people are watching…"

His gaze on me turned colder. "Don't make me say it twice."

Whatever backbone I once had—whatever self-respect—had long since crumbled to dust in front of this man.

I bent toward Audrey. "I'm sorry, Ms. Swanson. I wasn't careful."

Anthony wasn't satisfied that I gave in so quickly.

He pointed at the row of liquor on the table. "Since it was 'not careful,' drink these to make up for it. Finish them, and we'll let this go."

Five or six bottles of hard liquor.

I looked up at him. "Mr. Vance, I have a serious stomach condition. If I drink that, I'll have internal bleeding."

"That's your problem."

He wrapped his arm around Audrey and walked away without looking back.

Everyone watched.

With trembling hands, I picked up the first glass.

The liquid slid down my throat, and burning pain flared through my stomach.

One glass. Two. Three…

By the fifth, my stomach spasmed.

I covered my mouth and rushed to the restroom.

I threw up until the world spun. By the end, it was nothing but bright red blood.

I wiped the blood from my mouth and stared at the ghost in the mirror.

Outside, men's laughter drifted in. "Seeing her so pathetic, begging like that—damn, that felt good."

I stayed in the stall for a long time, until my phone buzzed nonstop.

The hospital.

"Miss Sullivan, your brother developed sudden complications and needs emergency surgery. Please pay $50,000 immediately, or the procedure can't proceed."

Fifty thousand.

To the old me, that was just the price of a handbag.

To the current me, it was a life.

I rushed out. Anthony was at the jewelry counter, helping Audrey pick out a diamond ring.

I ran over and grabbed his sleeve. "Mr. Vance, please—give me $50,000. Right now. My brother is being resuscitated!"

Anthony frowned and shook off my hand. "What are you doing, making a scene in a place like this?"

Audrey covered her mouth and laughed. "Layla, even if you're begging for money, pick the right moment. Anthony's choosing my engagement ring."

"Anthony, that's a human life! That's William! He used to call you brother!"

Anthony's hand paused.

Then his eyes turned even darker. "He's a Sullivan. What does that have to do with me? It'd be better if everyone in that family died off."

He turned back to the rings. "The contract says payment per session. You made me very unhappy tonight. This one—no money."

"What do I have to do? I'll do anything."

Anthony turned, his gaze dropping to my knees. "I want you to kneel down and tie my shoelaces."

His leather shoes were spotless. The laces, perfectly tied.

He was humiliating me.

But William was still on the operating table.

I didn't hesitate. I dropped to my knees with a dull thud. The marble sent pain shooting through my legs. Around me, sharp inhales and muffled snickers filled the air.

With trembling hands, I untied his laces and retied them into a neat bow.

"It's done, Mr. Vance."

I looked up.

Anthony stared down at me, something unreadable flickering in his eyes.

Then he kicked my hand away.

"What a pity. I'm in an even worse mood now."

He wrapped an arm around Audrey and strode off without a backward glance.

Leaving me there on the floor.

I burst out of the banquet hall like a madwoman, sprinting through the downpour toward the hospital.

Before I even reached the entrance, I slammed into a solid chest at the corner.

"Careful."

Strong hands steadied me.

I looked up. A composed face behind gold-rimmed glasses—refined, almost scholarly. But I didn't have time to study him. I shoved against his grip.

"Move! I need to save someone!"

He didn't let go. Instead, he handed me a payment slip.

"I already covered William Sullivan's surgery fee. You can pay it back slowly."

I froze. My mind went blank.

"Who are you?"

"Scott Delgado. The lawyer who handled the Sullivan Group bankruptcy. Currently representing your creditors."

He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the rain from my face.

"Miss Sullivan, even as a debtor, there's no need to degrade yourself for trash like him."

I kept vigil at the hospital all night. By morning, William was out of danger.

When I returned to the villa the next day, it was already noon. I was still wearing the suit jacket Scott had lent me, carrying the faint scent of mint and tobacco.

The moment I pushed open the door, the atmosphere hit me like a wall.

Anthony sat on the sofa. Cigarette butts littered the floor around his feet.

When he saw the men's jacket on my shoulders, he exploded.

He charged over, ripped the jacket off me, and hurled it to the ground, tearing at the fabric.

"Layla Sullivan, you're really something! You roll out of my bed and find yourself a new sugar daddy just like that?"

His eyes were bloodshot, his voice unhinged.

"Who is he? That Scott Delgado? When did you two start?"

He grabbed the scissors from the table and slashed the expensive jacket to shreds.

"I didn't! He saved William!"

I lunged forward, trying to salvage it—it wasn't even mine to ruin.

Anthony slammed me down onto the coffee table—right onto the shards from the glass he'd smashed yesterday.

Glass bit into my back. I gasped at the searing pain.

"Saved William?" He laughed, cold and cruel. "I think you're just addicted to selling yourself. For that half-dead bastard, you'd spread your legs for any man, wouldn't you?"

Smack!

I slapped him with everything I had.

Anthony's head snapped to the side. A bright red handprint bloomed across his cheek.

Slowly, he turned back. His tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek, his gaze lethal.

"Layla Sullivan. You dare hit me?"

I was panting, tears burning in my eyes.

"You can insult me all you want, Anthony. But don't you dare insult William. And don't you dare insult someone who actually helped me."

This was the first time I'd fought back since we reunited.

That slap shattered the last pretense of civility between us.

He laughed suddenly—a sound that sent ice down my spine.

"Fine. Very fine. Since you've got so much backbone, let's see just how hard those bones really are."

Anthony's revenge came fast.

That night, he took me to a private gathering.