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?”

Daphne gripped the seatbelt tightly, her knuckles turning white. The tension in the car was thick, suffocating.

Out of nowhere, Logan’s calm, measured voice broke the silence. “Madison hasn’t been feeling well lately. You’re moving into Belleview Manor to take care of her.”

Though his tone was flat, there was no mistaking the commanding edge beneath it. The words made Daphne’s stomach twist uncomfortably.

She knew there was no room for argument.

Belleview Manor.

The place Logan called home.

The place Madison, his fiancée, lived.

How much did Logan hate her to humiliate her like this?

But refusing wasn’t an option. After everything that had happened, Daphne understood one thing: Logan’s cruelty wasn’t just for show. It was calculated, deliberate. She couldn’t risk her father’s life by defying him.

When they arrived, Madison greeted them at the door. Her smile faltered momentarily as she spotted Daphne standing just behind Logan. But then, she recovered quickly, her expression warm and friendly.

“Daphne!” she exclaimed, her voice sweet as honey. “It’s so nice to see you again.”

Daphne felt her face heat up, her cheeks burning with shame. She couldn’t bring herself to meet Madison’s gaze.

How could she when the woman standing before her had once been her best friend?

The weight of the betrayal—and the lies—hung between them like an unspoken curse.

When Madison found out Logan had arranged for Daphne to take care of her, she seemed genuinely pleased.

“I’m so glad you’re here to keep me company,” she said brightly.

Daphne opened her mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. Before she could force anything out, Logan strode past her, scooping Madison into his arms with an ease that made Daphne’s chest tighten.

“Why are you barefoot again?” he scolded gently, his tone soft and affectionately. “Don’t you remember the last time you got sick?”

Madison’s cheeks flushed as she protested, her voice barely above a whisper. “Logan, don’t do this. Daphne’s right here.”

Daphne stared at her toes, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides. She couldn’t move, couldn’t even breathe. She was trapped, standing there like an outsider in a home that had once been hers.

Logan turned, his gaze settling on Daphne like she was an inconvenience he wanted gone.

“The maid’s room by the spiral staircase,” he said curtly. “That’s where you’ll stay.”

Daphne swallowed hard and managed a quiet “Okay.”

Without looking back, she walked to the small room he’d mentioned and closed the door firmly behind her, shutting out the sickly sweetness that clung to the air.

The maid’s room was tiny, almost claustrophobic, but that didn’t bother her. What did was the memories.

This wasn’t her first time at Belleview Manor.

Once upon a time, every corner of this house had been filled with laughter, love, and moments she had shared with Logan. Back then, the walls had held secrets that only the two of them knew.

But those days were long gone.

Now, those memories were like ghosts—haunting and unwelcome.

...

Late into the night, Daphne was startled awake by a tickling sensation on her face. Half-asleep, she blinked groggily, only to freeze when she realized Logan’s face was mere inches from hers, his dark eyes watching her in the dim moonlight.

Her heart leaped into her throat.

“Logan?” she whispered, panic rising in her chest.

Before she could react, he moved quickly, pinning her beneath him.

His voice, low and hoarse, sent a shiver down her spine. “Have you forgotten your place, Daphne?”

Of course, she hadn’t.

How could she?

She was nothing more than a mistress, a tool he used whenever it pleased him.

Even through the fabric of her clothes, she could feel his intentions.

Her voice trembled as she pleaded, “We can’t... Madison is still here.”

“She’s asleep,” Logan muttered, his hand sliding up the hem of her shirt.

“Logan, please,” she choked out, tears filling her eyes. “Not here. We can’t—”

Logan paused, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. “Why not? We’ve done it here before.”

His words made her chest tighten painfully. So, he remembered.

Leaning closer, he bit her ear lightly, his voice dripping with mockery. “Be louder. Madison’s upstairs. Maybe she’ll come down and save you.”

Daphne’s eyes locked with his, and for a moment, she thought she saw something other than anger or desire—a flicker of something she couldn’t name.

But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

Biting her lip, she closed her eyes.

The last shred of beauty she had once clung to—the love she’d hidden deep in her heart—was torn to pieces.

...

The next morning, Madison greeted her in the kitchen, her voice as sweet and kind as ever. “Did you sleep okay last night?” she asked, tilting her head in concern.

Daphne’s cheeks burned with shame. She looked down, unable to meet Madison’s gaze.

How could she face her after what had happened?

After a moment, Madison hesitated, then handed her phone to Daphne. “I... I wasn’t sure if I should show you this, but...”

Daphne frowned and took the phone. The moment her eyes landed on the screen, all the blood drained from her face.

It was a photo. From the night before. Her, stripping in the private room at the bar. Logan’s cold, detached face was visible in the background, as was the jeering crowd of men and women who had watched.