Daphne Ravenscroft had once been the love of Logan Carmichael’s life—the center of his world, cherished and adored beyond measure.

But now?

Now, she was nothing more than a shadowy secret, a mistress tucked away out of sight, living on the edges of a life that no longer belonged to her.

The man who had once filled her days with love and laughter had turned into her tormentor, dragging her into a personal hell of his making. After she’d been kidnapped, Logan hadn’t hesitated to choose his fiancée, Madison Lexington. His decision left Daphne humiliated, discarded like yesterday’s news, fodder for the world’s cruel gossip.

Once, Logan had sworn with fiery conviction, “Even if I die, I’ll never love you again.”

But when Daphne finally summoned the strength to walk away, he unraveled. Logan spiraled into madness, scouring the globe in a desperate search to find her.

His plea was raw and haunting, “Daphne, my life is yours—just let me have your heart back…”

But Daphne had only shaken her head, her voice resolute and calm. “We can never go back.”

...

Cold and detached, Logan Carmichael brushed Daphne after their casual indifference as though she were nothing more than an afterthought. Rising from the bed, he began to dress, not sparing her so much as a glance.

His voice was flat and emotionless as if the words carried no weight at all. "Don’t forget my engagement party is tomorrow. Be there on time."

Daphne clutched the blanket around her, her knuckles whitening with the strain.

She could feel the anger and humiliation rising in her chest. “I’m not going,” she said firmly, her voice sharp.

Logan didn’t even blink. His composure was unnervingly steady, his tone casual, dismissive.

“If you don’t show up,” he said evenly, “I’ll send an invitation to your father instead.”

The breath caught in Daphne’s throat. Her chest tightened as the weight of his threat bore down on her.

Using her father against her? That was cruel, even for Logan.

The silence between them hung heavy, stretching out as her defiance warred with the impossible situation he’d put her in. After a long moment, she dropped her gaze, unable to hold out any longer. She had no choice but to relent.

Later that evening, a delivery arrived: a sleek off-shoulder gown, elegant and undeniably expensive.

Daphne didn’t even glance at it for long. Instead, she picked it up, set it aside, and walked away without a second thought.

...

The next day, the Carmichael and Lexington families’ engagement party was the talk of the town. The city's elites were all in attendance, filling the grand ballroom with opulence and whispers of intrigue.

When Daphne finally arrived, she was dressed in a modest, high-collared, long-sleeved gown—an open defiance against Logan’s expectations. His brows drew together in a sharp line of displeasure the moment he spotted her.

"Are you here to beg for food, dressed like that?" His words cut through the air like a whip, loud enough to draw the attention of nearby guests.

Heads turned, whispers rippling through the crowd.

"How does she even dare to show her face here?"

"Shameless. Doesn’t she remember what she did back then?"

"If I were her, I’d bury myself six feet under."

The snide comments and derisive stares were relentless, but Daphne remained stoic.

She avoided the eyes of those around her, intent only on finding a quiet corner where she could wait out the party in peace.

As she made her way through the crowd, she bumped into none other than Madison Lexington—the star of the evening. A gasp rippled through the room as the red wine in Madison’s glass splashed across Daphne’s chest.

A girl at Madison’s side sneered, her voice dripping with mockery. "Oh, look! It’s Miss Ravenscroft. For a second, I thought she was one of the waitstaff."

Daphne ignored the jab and murmured an apology, already turning toward the restroom to clean up the mess.

But the girl blocked her path with a disdainful laugh. "Where do you think you’re going in that cheap dress? Did you pick it up at a clearance sale? It’s insulting just to look at it."

Before Daphne could respond, the girl grabbed at the neckline of her dress, yanking it hard. The fabric gave way, revealing the unmistakable marks on her skin—marks left by Logan himself.

The room erupted in laughter, judgment raining down on her like shards of glass.

Daphne froze, her cheeks flushing with humiliation. Her gaze flicked toward Logan, silently pleading for him to intervene.

But he just stood there, smirking, clearly enjoying the show.

Her composure cracked, tears welling in her eyes despite her best efforts to hold them back. Then, a clean, crisp white jacket was draped over her shoulders as if on cue.

A collective hush fell over the room. Everyone’s attention shifted to the man standing beside her: Kyle Ashford.

The eldest son of the prestigious Ashford family had returned unexpectedly, and he was now shielding Daphne from the crowd's cruelty.

Logan’s jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides. The sight of Kyle stepping in for Daphne set his blood boiling.

Kyle led Daphne away without saying much, offering her the chance to clean up and change into fresh clothes.

Once again composed, she thanked him quietly and slipped out of the venue unnoticed. When she finally returned home, she expected nothing but silence and solitude.

Instead, she found Logan waiting for her.

He stood in the dark, the tailored suit from the party still clinging to him, his presence filling the room with tension.

Logan’s face darkened, his eyes narrowing in simmering anger. “Why didn’t you wear the dress I sent you today?”

Daphne pressed her lips together, her hands fidgeting at her sides.

How could she possibly explain? Her body was covered in marks—marks he had left on her. That off-shoulder dress? She couldn’t wear it. Wouldn’t wear it.

It would’ve been like baring her shame for the world to see. But even with her modest gown, she hadn’t managed to escape the biting accusations and sneers at the party.

Her silence only fed Logan’s growing impatience. He took a step closer, his voice cutting like a blade. “What’s the matter? Hooked up with Kyle again, huh? Damn it, Daphne. I’ve really underestimated you.”

Before she could respond, Logan shoved her against the wall, the force of it making her breath hitch. His hand grabbed at her dress, tearing it open with ruthless determination.

“Logan!” she gasped, struggling against his grip. “You’re engaged to Madison! We can’t keep doing this—”

But her words only seemed to fuel his rage. His actions grew rougher, his voice dripping with venom. “You? Telling me what I can and can’t do? Don’t kid yourself, Daphne. You’re nothing more than a tool for my emotions. That’s all you’ve ever been.”

With a final, unforgiving yank, the dress fell in tatters to the floor. Daphne’s body trembled as she felt the last shred of dignity drain from her. \She squeezed her eyes shut, unwilling to look at the man who had once held her heart in the palm of his hand.

...

Daphne hadn’t always been this way—a shadow of her former self.

Once, she’d been the darling of the town, the prized daughter of one of the city’s wealthiest families. Back then, young men from every corner of the city would’ve lined up for miles just to catch a glimpse of her.

But Daphne had eyes for only one person: Logan.

Logan Carmichael, the illegitimate son of a powerful family, had spent much of his youth living in the shadows. The world looked down on him, dismissing him as unworthy of someone like Daphne Ravenscroft.

But Logan had been determined to prove them wrong. For her, he studied relentlessly, dedicating himself to business management.

And when he finally began earning the respect of the upper class, he set his sights on winning her heart completely.

At the height of his devotion, Logan rented every outdoor screen in Long Beach, Los Angeles to publicly propose to her. It was a grand gesture that convinced Daphne she was destined to be the happiest woman in the world.

But happiness could slip through your fingers when you least expect it.

The downfall of the Ravenscroft family came swiftly and brutally. Overnight, their stocks plummeted, employees jumped ship, and her father was reduced to a broken man, his health failing under the weight of it all.

At the time, Logan had been abroad, preparing to take over the Carmichael empire.

Daphne hadn’t had the heart to tell him the truth about her family’s collapse. She didn’t want to drag him down, didn’t want to become his burden.

The two of them had made plans to marry as soon as he returned to the States. But how could she walk down the aisle when she was drowning in shame, her family’s name in ruins?

The final blow came when Logan’s mother visited her. Her words were sharp and cutting—words Daphne never wanted to remember. But they’d been enough to make her take action.

She forced herself to call and tell Logan she no longer loved him. When he refused to believe her, she roped Kyle into her scheme, using him to stage an elaborate lie.

The fallout was immediate.

Logan, devastated and enraged, flew back to confront her. But on the way to meet her, he was caught in a horrific car accident on the airport expressway. The crash was brutal, leaving him trapped in the mangled wreckage of his car.

Daphne had been at the hospital when they brought him in, bloodied and barely alive. She’d only caught a glimpse of him as they rushed him into the emergency room, but it had been enough to shatter her resolve.

Afterward, Logan’s family whisked him away for treatment abroad. She didn’t see him again until earlier this year when he returned to Los Angeles and acquired the Ravenscroft Enterprise at auction. That day, her father collapsed from the shock, needing emergency medical attention.

Daphne had knelt before Logan, begging him to save her father.

He’d agreed—but only on one condition.

She would become his mistress.

Daphne, with no choice, accepted.

The arrangement began on Logan’s terms, as cold and transactional as a business deal. And yet, even within the confines of their twisted relationship, he found ways to punish her.

The following day, her father’s condition took a sudden turn for the worse. Specialized medication was needed to stabilize him, but without Logan’s approval, the hospital refused to act.

Desperate, Daphne called him over and over again, only to be met with silence.

When she realized he was intentionally ignoring her, she took matters into her own hands.

Tracking him down to a private bar, she walked into a scene of decadence: Logan lounging on a sofa, surrounded by friends and strangers alike, his expression one of lazy indifference.

She froze, her heart pounding. This man had once promised her forever, now a stranger reveling in her despair.

Ignoring the stares and murmurs around her, Daphne wrenched herself free from the waiter’s grip and stumbled forward, dropping to her knees in front of Logan.

Once filled with boisterous laughter and chatter, the room went eerily silent. All eyes were on her now.

“Please,” she begged, her voice cracking with desperation. “Save my father!”

Logan leaned back on the plush sofa, his expression icy and detached. He looked down at her as if she were a stranger begging on the street.

“Why beg me?” he said coldly. “Go ask Kyle.”

Daphne’s chest tightened at the mention of Kyle. She knew Logan was fully aware that the only family with access to the rare, life-saving medication her father needed was the Carmichaels. He just wanted to see her squirm.

Her voice trembled as she pushed forward, her pride long forgotten. “Help me this once, and I’ll do anything you want.”

Logan’s lips curled into a smirk, a cruel glint flickering in his eyes.

“Anything?” he asked, his voice laced with mockery. “Then strip. Right here. In front of everyone.”

Gasps and low chuckles rippled through the room. Some men whistled while the women exchanged smug, satisfied smiles. This was entertainment to them—a game at her expense.

Daphne’s gaze flicked to the crowd of familiar faces, the elite heirs and heiresses of Glendale, Los Angeles. They were people she had once socialized with and attended galas and charity events alongside. Now, they watched her with a mixture of pity and disdain.

Logan’s demand was cruel, a calculated attempt to humiliate her in the worst way possible. But as much as her chest burned with shame, she knew her father’s life hung in the balance.

What choice did she have?

Taking a deep breath, she reached for her bulky coat.

The room erupted. Some of the men jeered, while others laughed outright. A few women muttered cruel remarks under their breath, their sneers sharp enough to cut.

Logan, lounging with a glass of red wine, didn’t even glance her way. He sipped his drink, handing the glass back to the woman beside him as if he couldn’t be bothered to watch.

Daphne slid off her coat, revealing the modest sweater underneath. Her fingers trembled, but she kept going. She pulled the sweater over her head, leaving her in a thin camisole that clung to her frame.

The room’s noise quieted momentarily as her bare shoulders and slender arms came into view.

Then, just as the murmurs started again, Logan finally looked her way. His gaze lingered for a moment too long, taking in the marks scattered across her exposed skin—marks he had left.

Without missing a beat, Daphne grabbed the hem of her camisole. She began lifting it.

Suddenly, a coat landed over her shoulders, its warmth cutting through the cold, heavy air.

Logan stood, his face dark with disgust.

“Daphne,” he spat, “you’ve completely lost all sense of shame.”

Tears pricked her eyes, but she refused to cry in front of him.

“You promised,” she whispered, clutching the coat tightly. “You said if I did what you asked, you’d save my father.”

Logan’s lips curled into a sneer. “I said I’d consider it. Don’t confuse that with a promise.”

Before she could say another word, Logan motioned to the security guards near the door. “Get her out of here,” he barked.

The guards moved quickly, grabbing her arms and dragging her out of the room. Her protests fell on deaf ears.

By the time she was thrown onto the street, humiliation and despair overwhelmed her.

...

An hour later, she arrived at the hospital, her heart pounding in fear. But to her immense relief, she was told that her father had already been given the medication he needed half an hour ago. His condition was now stable.

Daphne released a shaky breath and sank to the floor, her legs stretching beneath her. For the first time that night, she felt something other than dread. It was fleeting, but it was there—relief.

She couldn't hold back her tears when she finally stepped into her father’s room. He looked so frail lying there, his face lined with age and illness.

Two years.

That’s all it had taken to turn him into a shadow of the man he used to be.

By the time she left the ward, the clock had struck midnight. The hospital’s halls were quiet, the air cold and still. As she stepped outside, a sleek black Maybach parked conspicuously near the entrance, caught her attention.

She froze when she saw who was inside.

Even after everything that had happened in the private room—after the pain, the humiliation—she knew Logan had been the one to save her father.

Without his influence and money, her father wouldn’t even be in this hospital, let alone receiving such top-notch care. No matter how much she wanted to hate him, she couldn’t bring herself to.

Taking a deep breath, she approached the car. The window rolled down just enough for her to see Logan’s face, his expression unreadable.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

Logan’s lips curled into a mocking smile. “How much do you think your ‘thank you’ is worth?”

Her head dropped, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. She didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. She already knew the answer: not much. Not anymore.

Through the crack in the window, Logan’s voice came again, sharp and impatient. “Get in the car. What are you waiting for? An invitation?”

She hesitated but ultimately climbed in. The hospital was in the new district, and at this hour, catching a cab was nearly impossible.

“Drop me somewhere I can grab a ride home,” she said, her voice low. “I don’t want to bother you any more than I already have.”

Logan let out a low chuckle, his eyes glinting with something she couldn’t place. “You think I’m here to take you home?”