The next morning, Annabell lounged in her opulent bedroom, popping a strawberry into her mouth.

"See, Mom? I told you that country girl wouldn't dare disobey," she said, her voice gloating. "Her grandmother is her weak spot."

Melinda sat on the chaise lounge, stirring her coffee with practiced elegance. Her eyes were cold. "Don't celebrate too soon. If she was actually trying to escape last night, then we have a problem. "

Annabell leaned in, her curiosity piqued. "So what's the plan?"

Melinda set down her cup and retrieved a slim black card from her Hermès bag. "Julian Holloway, the third son, is hosting a party in his suite at The Plaza Hotel tonight. We just need to get Eliana into his bed. Once the deal is sealed, she can't cause any more trouble."

Annabell's eyes lit up as she looked at the key card. "That's a brilliant idea!"

That afternoon, under the pretext of "choosing an engagement gown," Melinda drove Eliana to Bergdorf Goodman on Fifth Avenue.

Eliana was a silent doll, letting them move and dress her, but her mind was a whirlwind, desperately searching for a way out. This wasn't just about a dress. She knew that.

Annabell, with false sincerity, selected an expensive but garishly revealing red slip dress and forced Eliana to try it on.

In the mirror, Eliana saw a beautiful, fragile girl who looked like a lamb being led to slaughter. A cold glint flashed in her eyes.

Later, at the department store's café, Annabell excused herself to go to the restroom. When she returned, she casually slid an envelope across the table toward Eliana.

Inside was the black key card. Room 3608.

Annabell leaned close, her voice a venomous whisper only Eliana could hear. "This is your chance to change your fate, Eliana. Mr. Julian Holloway is waiting for you. Please him, and your grandmother gets to live."

Eliana's fists clenched under the table, her nails breaking against her skin. But when she looked up, her face was a mask of timid obedience. "I... I understand."

Annabell's smile was triumphant, her open contempt a fresh wound.

They didn't take her to the hotel themselves. They put her in a black car and watched from across the street as she walked through the gilded entrance of The Plaza, only driving away when she was out of sight.

Eliana stood in the magnificent lobby, the key card feeling like a block of ice in her hand.

She knew what was waiting for her in room 3608. A humiliation worse than death.

She couldn't do it. She absolutely could not.

She turned to run, but two men in dark suits immediately fell into step behind her, their presence a silent, suffocating threat. Melinda's watchdogs.

There was no retreat. She walked to the elevators.

The polished brass doors reflected her pale, desperate face. As the numbers climbed, her brain worked faster than it ever had before.

36... 3608...

A wild, insane idea sparked in the darkness of her mind.

The elevator chimed, and the doors slid open on the 36th floor.

Eliana stepped out and, instead of turning right toward 3608, walked with resolute steps toward the left, down the corridor to the very end.

The last door on the left was for the hotel's most exclusive suite. The Presidential Suite. Room 3601.

She had no idea who was inside. But she was willing to bet that whoever it was, they were a better gamble than the "old and ugly" Julian. At the very least, she might create enough chaos to escape.

She took a deep breath, smoothed down her dress, and forced a stiff, practiced smile onto her face.

She raised her hand and pressed the doorbell for 3601.