It was Miles Farley.

He looked even better than his photos.

Sword-straight brows, bright eyes, broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, and skin clean and fair — better-looking than the top faces in the entertainment world.

The face really wasn't bad.

Pity the heart was black, and the man was a bit stupid.

A perfectly good shell, wasted.

I lifted a brow. "Miles Farley?"

I was about to tell him to deal with that gutter-trash songbird of his.

Before I could finish, he waved me off. "Enough!"

"We've met. I'm not interested in women who've clawed their way up from the bottom like you."

"You've seen for yourself. My woman has to be at least as beautiful and capable as Violet. A backwater striver whose only trick is passing exams? Crawl back to whatever hole you came out of."

I glanced down at my own white tee and jeans.

A little casual, sure. But showing up at all was already doing him a favor.

Clearly old Mr. Farley hadn't told his son a single word about who I was.

Made sense. My father lined up fifty suitors for me, and the moment they heard who I was, they were on their knees kissing up.

Exhausting.

The old man had probably done his homework on my tastes and simply left out my identity, betting that his son's natural charm would set him apart.

Too confident by half. He had no idea what his son's face really looked like in private.

I gave Miles a cold, sidelong look.

"The Farleys are supposed to be old money. You don't even know basic gentlemanly manners?"

"Talking to me like this, aren't you afraid you'll offend the wrong person?"

He looked me up and down and laughed with open contempt.

"You think you're fit to talk manners with me? Manners are for well-bred socialites of our class. Failing that, at least a nine-out-of-ten beauty like Violet. A dirt-poor climber like you? Fit for what?"

"Out the door, turn right, go find a mirror in the restroom and take a good look at yourself. A country hen like you wants to marry up into the Farleys? Keep dreaming!"

"Honestly, I have no idea what the old man sees in you. He called me twenty times, practically forced me to meet you."

I flicked a glance at him.

Before I came, my father had said the Farleys were badly strapped for cash right now.

If I happened to take a liking to the Farley boy, well, I'd bought a batch of islands a few years back. I could just hand the Farleys a few.

The five billion the Farleys owed the Sinclairs could be written off too.

Call it a meeting gift.

I offer face, he throws it back.

Let's see exactly what class he belongs to tomorrow.

I couldn't be bothered with him. I pointed at Violet.

"This woman started a fight on my turf, and a few cups on the table got smashed in the process. How do you plan to settle that account?"

The words were barely out when Violet, tears welling, covered her face and rushed to Miles.

"Miles, this woman hit me, and she hurt my friends too. It hurts so much…"

Seeing her all delicate and tear-streaked, Miles's heart ached for her.

"Some worthless piece-of-junk cup — you dared lay a hand on my woman?!"

I looked at the blue-lotus glass bowl shattered across the floor and sighed inwardly.

The junk cup he was ranting about was a treasured relic handed down from the Yuan dynasty, the only one of its kind in the world.

Its market price could buy the entire Farley family, except there was no price for it, since no one would ever sell.

I'd heard the Farleys were negotiating a partnership with the Joyces. They'd been grinding over the terms for two months, and Melvin Joyce wouldn't budge an inch.

Melvin was obsessed with antique vessels, and he'd had his eye on this blue-lotus glass bowl for ages.

But I was of the younger generation, so he hadn't felt right competing with me for it.

I'd only brought it along because Miles was good-looking.

I wondered how Melvin would react if he knew Miles not only failed to recognize the piece, but let his kept songbird trash a handed-down treasure he'd longed for, smash it to pieces.

I took out my phone, snapped a few shots of the shattered blue-lotus glass bowl, and sent them to Melvin.

I'd just tapped send.

Pain flared across the back of my hand as my phone hit the floor with a crack.

Miles exploded.

"Anna Sinclair, are you deaf? Can't you hear me talking to you?"

"I think you're tired of living. You touched one of my women, and you've still got the nerve to act this cocky!"

Violet's eyes swam with tears, as if she'd suffered some monstrous injustice. But the sidelong look she threw me was pure smugness.

Enough with the act.

I flexed my wrist and fixed my gaze on her.

"Miles Farley, it was this little songbird of yours who knocked the chopsticks out of my hand first. I hadn't even opened my mouth, and now she's playing the innocent."

Violet squeezed out a single tear, her voice so cloying it made my skin crawl.

"Miles, I know Anna comes from a poor background, so she's used to solving everything with her fists, and her words come out harsh…"

"But she can't just throw dirt on me and the girls out of nowhere. It's so unfair to all of us…"

Her circle of friends chimed in one after another, all of them insisting I'd struck first.

They wore me down with their noise, and the anger I'd been holding in my chest finally broke loose.

Fine, fine, fine. If you say I struck first, then I'll show you what striking first looks like.

I shot to my feet and crossed to Violet in an instant.

Both hands, back and forth, ten hard slaps with everything I had.

The room went dead silent.

Then Violet screamed.

"Blood—"

"Miles… it hurts so much…"

She wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth, her eyes on me full of fear and hate.

I gave her swollen, puffed-up face a light glance.

"Satisfied now?"

After a brief silence, Violet's little circle erupted.

"Mr. Farley, everyone knows you rule Kingsport, and Violet is the one you hold dearest."

"For her to dare hit Violet is hitting the face of Kingsport's number-one heir!"

They egged him on, one line after another, fanning the flames.

Miles's face went iron-gray. He strode up to me and clamped down on my arm.

"You worthless bitch, don't think just because my father introduced you I won't touch you!"

"On your knees! Kowtow to Violet a hundred times, hard enough to hear it, or I'll make sure you walk in standing and go out flat!"

In all my life, no one had ever dared lay a finger on me.

With my right hand I raised my glass and smashed it against the table.

Then I snatched up a shard and drove it at the hand gripping my arm.

He couldn't dodge in time and let go.

Before he could recover, I kicked him back.

He lost his footing and dropped into a chair, red-faced with rage.

"You really are sick of living!"

He raised his right hand and gave the order. "Get her! I don't care if she lives or dies!"

The dozen or so bodyguards behind him rushed forward at once, holding nothing back.

My father had brought in an heir of close-combat martial arts to train me since I was small, but there were simply too many of them.

I went down fast.

Miles had knocked my phone to the floor again, so there was no way to call for help.

In the split second I was trying to find an opening, a dagger drove hard into my right shoulder.

The pain broke a cold sweat over me. I gritted my teeth and warned him.

"Miles Farley, you're the one who doesn't want to live!"

"Hurt me, and the whole Farley family isn't enough to pay it back!"

Violet and her pack of friends burst out laughing.

"You country bumpkin, I think you've lost your mind."

"The Farleys have their hands everywhere. Even if you die right here today, no one will dare say a single word against it."

Her tone was haughty, her eyes bright with the pleasure of a long-awaited revenge.

I backed toward the wall, edging step by step into the corner.

Miles thought I'd finally lost my nerve, and grew even more arrogant.

"Keep going! Beat her until she can't move!"

Violet leaned against Miles's chest, her smile brimming with a victor's smugness.

The whole crowd watched me like it was a show, as if I were an ant they could crush underfoot whenever they pleased.

Finally.

Got it.

I pressed the button hard.

All at once, the alarm blared out.