"It's two in the morning, and in weather like this, you won't find a cab out here. The nearest hotel is miles away. Try not to freeze to death on the side of the road."

The moment the words left his mouth, Neil seemed struck by his own idea. He pulled out his phone and dialed.

"Call every hotel in Capital City. Kathryn Henson is not to be given a room. Anywhere."

My heart plummeted.

This was Neil's obedience test.

He wanted me to understand that he could dictate my life on a whim. He was trying to train me into submission, to break me into something compliant and small.

I drew a long, slow breath. Then I slapped every last bank card onto the coffee table.

Without a second of hesitation, I stripped off the designer coat and tossed it into the fireplace beside me.

The flames surged, casting a bright orange glow across Neil's stunned face.

I didn't look back. I walked straight into the blizzard.

The wind hit me like a wall. I pushed forward, shaking so hard my teeth rattled, arms wrapped tight around myself. Every step was a fight against the cold that clawed through my clothes and sank into my bones.

I finally found an internet café still open nearby. The owner handed me a cup of hot water, and I sat there clutching it, letting warmth seep back into my frozen fingers.

But before long, my eyelids grew impossibly heavy. I slumped over and fell asleep.

Through the haze, I felt hands on me. Groping. Tugging.

I forced my eyes open and found myself staring straight into the owner's greasy, bloated face.

The café that had been buzzing with people just moments ago was now completely empty. The metal security shutter had been pulled down to the floor.

The owner leered at me, his grin wet and obscene.

"Hey there, sweetheart. Pretty little thing like you, wandering in alone this late... you homeless or something?"

"Poor baby. Let me take care of you."

The water. He'd put something in the water.

Terror crashed over me like a wave.

I bit down hard on my tongue. The sharp sting of pain cut through the fog in my head just enough.

I shoved him with everything I had, scrambled toward the restroom in the corner, and threw myself inside. The lock clicked into place under my trembling fingers.

I was about to call the police when Neil's number flashed across the screen.

One percent battery. I stared at it, my breath ragged, and answered.

The sound that came through the speaker was unmistakable. Heavy breathing. The kind soaked in lust.

"Kathryn, where'd you put those condoms I brought back from overseas last month? I'm teaching Shirley a few things tonight."

His tone shifted, turning mocking.

"What, now that you know you can't survive without me, you went and stole them to sell? Is that how desperate you are?"

I swallowed back the nausea clawing up my throat and forced the words out.

"Neil, I'm at an internet café on Guangfu Road."

"The owner is trying to assault me. Please, come get me—"

Neil's voice went taut with alarm. "What? I'm on my way!"

Then, in the very next second, Shirley's voice slithered through the line, dripping with saccharine contempt.

"Oh, sis. Are all gold diggers this calculating?"

"I drove past that road just today. There's no internet café there. You're pulling a sympathy stunt to guilt Mr. Sanchez into caving first, aren't you?"

"Mr. Sanchez, if you actually go, you're just rewarding her little tantrum. Next time she'll threaten you with divorce every time she doesn't get her way. How embarrassing would that be?"

Before I could get a single word out, Neil's voice exploded through the phone.

"Kathryn, you have absolutely no shame! You'd stoop to a lie like this?"

"Don't think I'm going to keep indulging you. You want to come back? Fine. Be kneeling outside my office by morning and admit you were wrong!"

"Without me, that pathetic salary of yours couldn't even cover rent on a decent apartment. You'd try selling yourself on the street and men would turn you down for the lousy accommodations. Think about that!"

The line went dead.

A second later, the screen went black. Zero percent.

Something inside me went cold and still, like ash after a fire burns out.

Click.

The bathroom lock gave way.

The owner burst through the door, grabbed a fistful of my hair, and yanked. That same revolting grin split his face.

"Where do you think you're going, you little tramp? This is my place. You think I don't have a key?"

"Trying to call your boyfriend for help? I heard every word. He's busy with some other woman and can't even be bothered with you."

"Relax, sweetheart. Just be a good girl and take care of me. Don't worry—I'm not a complicated guy. Never bother with protection, hahaha..."

In the depths of my despair, a deafening crash erupted from outside.

The metal shutter was forced open, and people stormed in.

"Let her go!"

It was the police from the nearby station.

The café owner had kicked out all his customers so he could assault me in peace. But someone had seen him slip something into my drink and called the cops the moment they left.

They rushed me to the hospital to have my stomach pumped, took my statement, and left me with a thick coat.

I borrowed a charger from the front desk. The next morning, I called the calligraphy studio and resigned.

After that, I went to the mall next door, grabbed a cheap set of casual clothes, and headed for the airport to fly home.

But the second I stepped out of the mall, several of Neil's bodyguards blocked my path.

"Miss Henson, Mr. Sanchez is hosting a banquet at the Imperial Monarch Hotel today to celebrate his two-year anniversary with Secretary Cobb."

"He's specifically requested that you come and perform for Miss Cobb. If you'll follow us, please."

I frowned.

"Get out of my way, or I'm calling the police."

The lead bodyguard, George Whitney, let out a contemptuous laugh.

"Go ahead. We'll file a report of our own."

"Mr. Sanchez says that dress you burned yesterday was worth a hundred grand. That's enough to land you behind bars for a good while."

I laughed in disbelief. So this was the trap they'd been setting.

"A hundred grand? I'll wire it to him right now."

George snatched the phone from my hand and smashed it on the ground at my feet.

"The hell is wrong with you? Someone offers you an inch and you take a mile?"

"Without Mr. Sanchez, you couldn't even feed yourself. Who do you think you're fooling, acting all high and mighty? You two haven't even registered the marriage. You really think you're some CEO's wife?" He jerked his chin at the others. "Take her."

They dragged me into a car and sped off.

When we arrived, the entire banquet hall had been decorated to the nines.

Shirley, dripping in designer couture and jewels, hung on Neil's arm as they greeted guests together.

She looked every bit the role of his real wife.

The irony cut deep.

Neil had said he didn't want to make a fuss. So yesterday's wedding had been a bare-bones affair in a cheap little hotel, with only a handful of his personal friends in attendance. Most people in their social circle didn't even know the wedding had happened.

I'd understood. I knew how hard he'd worked to earn his money. Besides, once I brought him home to meet my family, we'd throw a proper celebration. Everyone would see the news coverage and know about us then.

So I hadn't minded.

But the Imperial Monarch was the most exclusive hotel in Capital City, operating on an elite membership system. Only those who met a certain threshold of wealth and status were even allowed through the doors. A single banquet here cost millions.

And he'd booked it for Shirley's anniversary party. He'd even invited the press.

When Neil spotted me, he walked over with a frown.

"The owner of the calligraphy studio said you quit. Said you're leaving town. Where do you think you're going?"

My voice was flat. "Home. To take care of my grandfather. Is that a problem?"

A smug, superior smile spread across his face.

"So you've finally figured it out. Without my protection, you can't survive in this city. Your only option is crawling back to the countryside to slop pigs."

"Tell you what. If you wash all of Shirley's underwear by hand in front of everyone here, I'll forgive you. Tomorrow, we go register the marriage like nothing happened."

He had his assistant bring out a small basket. There had to be at least a dozen pairs inside.

My entire life, my family had guarded these hands like they were made of glass. They'd never let me do so much as a household chore.

I stared at him in disbelief.

"Neil Sanchez, is your brain screwed on backwards? Every word out of your mouth is garbage."

"You two spent my wedding night kissing and sleeping together, and now you want me to wash her underwear?"

"Let me make one thing clear: even if you chopped Shirley Cobb into pieces and sold her by the pound, she still wouldn't be worth me lifting a finger!"

Neil's face went cold instantly.

"Who told you to humiliate Shirley in front of everyone yesterday? This is the compensation you owe her!"

"Drop the act. How much do you even make teaching calligraphy classes all day? I promised you the position of Mrs. Sanchez. Don't bite the hand that feeds you!"

"This is the anniversary gift Shirley wants most, and I'm going to give it to her!"

As he spoke, he pulled out a bamboo calligraphy brush and sneered.

"Kathryn, I believe this means a lot to you. Am I right?"

"If you don't want me to snap it in half right now, you'll do exactly as I say."

My fists clenched instantly.

That brush wasn't worth much money, but it was the last birthday gift my father ever gave me.

He'd made it with his own hands.

Shortly after that, he died in a car accident.

I drew a deep breath and forced the words through my teeth.

"Fine. I'll wash them."

Then I bent down and picked up the plastic basin they'd prepared, my expression blank.

"Can I go to the bathroom to fill this up now?"

Only then did Neil curl his lips in satisfaction.

"Good girl. Keep Shirley happy, and I'll give it back. I'll even restore your old lifestyle."

He posted his bodyguards at the door to make sure I couldn't run.

Water rushed from the faucet, reflecting my ice-cold eyes.

I pressed the hidden button on the back of my mechanical watch.

A faint crackle of static lasted two seconds before Denys Mason's voice came through, roguish yet tinged with something almost wounded.

"I thought you'd thrown that watch away. What's this about? Finally decided I'm not so bad after all?"

"Fair warning: if you're about to tell me you went and got a marriage license, I'm jumping off the nearest building. Try me."

My voice came out steady.

"No marriage license. We broke up. Now he wants me to wash his mistress's underwear in front of a crowd."

"If you still want this arrangement between us, don't make me waste my breath."

The other end went silent for half a second.

When Denys spoke again, the excitement and the lethal edge in his voice were almost tangible.

"The Imperial Monarch Hotel?"

"Sit tight. I'll make that bastard swallow every last pair."

I was brought back to Shirley.

Neil had his arm around her waist, his tone tender.

"Shirley, today, as long as you don't say stop, Kathryn will keep washing until you're satisfied."

"How do you like your present?"

"Oh my God, I love it! You're always so good to me, Mr. Sanchez!"

The two of them locked lips in a long, shameless kiss, as if no one else existed.

Shirley sauntered over to me with a beaming smile.

"So it turns out you didn't like barking like a dog, but you prefer doing this kind of thing? Wow. You're even trashier than I thought."

"You should've just said so. I've got plenty more at home. But wait, you're not planning to wash them standing up, are you?"

The moment the words left her mouth, Neil flicked his wrist in a signal.

The bodyguard behind me drove his foot into the back of my knee, forcing me to the ground.

Mocking laughter erupted from every direction.

"There we go. That's the proper position for getting things clean."

Shirley picked up a bottle of imported liquor with an elegant sweep of her hand, blinking innocently.

"The thing is, I'm a bit of a germaphobe. Someone as filthy as you really grosses me out. You won't mind if I use a little alcohol to disinfect you first, right?"

I didn't look at her. My gaze went past her, straight to the man behind her. My voice was level.

"Neil. Do I need to remind you that my skin is allergic to alcohol?"

"I'm only going to ask you once. Are you sure you want to go through with this?"

Something flickered across Neil's face. Hesitation.

Before he could open his mouth, Shirley's eyes rimmed red, her voice pitching into a wounded whimper.

"Mr. Sanchez, don't tell me you feel sorry for her. You promised you'd help me get my dignity back today."