When Hailey stepped out of Nolan's bedroom, her legs felt like bricks.

She didn't go far—just collapsed onto the couch and waited.

Jordyn came down in full glam: designer outfit, Chanel bag swinging. That's when Hailey's lashes fluttered.

"Why?" Her voice scraped like ash.

"Why what?" Jordyn's tone dripped with sarcasm. "Why I slept with Nolan? Or why I ditched you and the Hart name?"

Her eyes gleamed with spite.

"Please. You knew I liked Nolan. We're both Dad's daughters—so why'd you get it all? I liked him first! Who cares if I was younger? What makes you so special?"

Jordyn's words stabbed deep. Hailey's fists clenched.

"Even so, how could you be with him? Did you forget why Dad's dead?"

"So what? He had it coming." Jordyn leaned in, voice like a blade. "If you were gonna run, why didn't you stay gone?"

Hailey stared at the sister she once loved more than anything. Her eyes, hollow and heavy, held a grief too deep to say out loud.

"You really think he'll pick you? He's using you—to trash Dad's name, to trash all of us."

Jordyn didn't flinch. Just turned and walked off.

Hailey dropped to the floor, completely wrecked.

Her eyes drifted upward—and there he was.

Nolan stood at the top of the stairs, silent. Cold. Just watching her break.

***

With Jordyn around, Nolan stopped barging into Hailey's room like before—no more tearing her clothes off, no more forced nights.

Now he made her stand guard outside his bedroom.

She'd lost count of how many times she sat there, numb to the sounds on the other side. Her heart? Dead quiet.

Nolan dragged Hailey back to the company, slapped "assistant" on her again.

People she used to work with wouldn't even look at her.

Her phone buzzed. Nolan's voice was ice.

"You'll go in my place to tonight's dinner."

Click. He didn't wait for a reply.

Jane from PR dropped off a folder, eyes flicking with sympathy.

"Ms. Hart, Robert Ramirez is a total creep. Just... watch yourself, okay?"

Before Hailey could say anything, another coworker yanked Jane away.

"Are you dumb? Mr. Thorne's setting her up. Ramirez is a known perv—yet he's sending her alone."

Hailey clenched the folder—then pictured her mom, Amelia, still hooked up to machines in the ICU. Her body eased, just a little.

She'd spent a year on the run, doing everything she could to keep Amelia hidden from Nolan.

But he still found them.

She honestly didn't know what else to do to make him stop. To let her go. To leave her family alone.

Donovan dying hadn't been enough.

So... would her death be?

The thought iced her veins. She shook it off fast.

She couldn't die. Not yet.

If she did, who'd look after Amelia?

Jordyn? Please. She hated her—hated all things Hart. She hadn't visited their mom once.

Just thinking about it made Hailey squeeze the folder tighter.

***

That night, Hailey showed up early.

She figured Robert would roll in with a team. Nope. He came solo.

Dinner was gross from the jump. He kept trying to slide his hand over hers.

She yanked back, steadying her voice. "Mr. Ramirez, if your company partners with ours, we'll absolutely hit those targets."

Robert's greasy smile spread across his thick face.

Then he went for it—skipped her hand this time and landed on her thigh.

She flinched, tipping her wine glass straight onto him.

Her face drained. "I'm so sorry—"

But he didn't even bother pretending.

Just clamped his hand around her wrist, eyes locked on her chest.

"Ms. Hart, I came alone for a reason. You get it, right? Project's easy—just make me feel good. Real good. Do that, and I'll toss you eighty, ninety more deals. Whatever you want."

Before she could even move, his hand slid under the table—

Bang!

The door flew open.

The wine bottle slipped from Hailey's hand and shattered on the floor.

She froze, trembling, one jagged shard still clenched and pointing straight at Robert.

Then—some guy stormed in.

Robert shoved her hard.

"What are you, PR or a hook-up? Quit faking and stop grabbing me!"

Her arm smacked into the cabinet edge, pain shooting through her. The glass dropped from her hand.

Before she could catch her breath, the guy from the doorway was already coming at her.

She looked up, shocked. "Ethan—"

Smack!

Her head snapped sideways.

Ethan stood over her, eyes blazing.

"My mom was right. You're trash. You'll sleep with any guy who gives you a second look. Is that it, Hailey? Flash a little cash and you're ready to go?"

Hailey's nails dug into her palm until it bled. She just stared at Ethan, stunned.

She thought he'd come to save her.

Ethan used to be gentle—more like a big brother than anything else. That's why she said yes to his proposal in the first place.

But now?

People believed whatever fit their story.

No one had her back. No one believed her.

Her throat burned like it was packed with needles.

She swallowed hard. Even the taste of blood couldn't distract her.

Robert scoffed under his breath. "So this is who you really are? And here I thought you were just playing coy."

He glanced at Ethan. No reaction.

That was all the permission he needed.

His voice turned nastier by the second. "Should've figured. Your boss usually brings a whole crew. Sends just you? You must've been desperate to get laid."

Ethan's face twisted with rage. Desperate to save face, he jumped in. "Please. She ditched me on our wedding day for some other guy.

"They played her moans on the reception screens—sounded like a total slut.

"Always acting innocent. Who knows how many guys have already used her? Makes you wonder what kind of trash raised her!"

Smack!

Ethan staggered back, hand flying to his cheek. Hailey stood still, her hand tingling from the hit.

"Apologize!" she snapped.

His face darkened. "Apologize? Keep dreaming."

Then—he spat in her face.

Before she could wipe it off, he grabbed her arm and dragged her out, yelling like a lunatic.

"Check this out! Filthy little call girl—look at her face!"

He shoved his phone in her face, holding her down as he took photo after photo.

The fancy restaurant froze. Everyone stared. No one stepped in.

Outside the VIP room, Hailey saw him—Nolan. Jordyn curled up beside him.

He looked like a king, cold and untouchable.

And he watched it all—watched her get torn apart, piece by piece.

***

Back home, the lights were off.

The second she stepped in, Hailey saw him—Nolan, sitting on the couch, face unreadable.

Her clothes were wrinkled, makeup smeared. It was obvious she'd been crying.

The sight yanked up memories he didn't ask for.

Hailey had always been the stubborn one. Jordyn messed up, but Hailey took the fall.

Even when she got hit, she never cracked.

At night, Hailey used to sneak into his room, slip under the blanket, and curl up in his arms like it was the only place left.

Nolan's jaw tightened. Fists clenched.

Those memories should've died with Donovan.

He stood and crossed the room.

She looked up, hollow.

"Nolan... is this enough?"

"What?"

"All of it. Does it pay back what my dad did to you? If not, just give me a deadline..."

No answer.

He grabbed her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes.

The moonlight cut across his face, cold and sharp.

"Don't even think about running, Hailey. Not in this lifetime."

Nolan scooped her up, hands clamped around her waist so tight she flinched.

He acted as if he couldn't see it— He didn't loosen his grip. If anything, it got worse.

He carried her straight to the master bedroom, and Hailey knew—knew exactly what he was about to do.

She shoved at him, panic rising fast.

Not long ago, he'd been in this same bed with Jordyn. And now—now he wanted her in it?

Her struggle only made his bloodshot eyes go darker.

"Oh, I see. You don't want me touching you? Then who? That fiancé who dragged you through the dirt?"

Hailey froze.

His words hit like a switch, dragging her straight back to the restaurant—those stares, the jeers, the humiliation.

Nolan didn't even notice her shutting down.

He took her silence as guilt, and snapped.

"You really are that cheap? After everything he did, you still want him?"

He ripped at her clothes, sank his teeth into her shoulder.

"Hailey, I need to know!"

His leg shoved between hers.

And all she could see was that used condom—tossed at her feet like garbage. Jordyn's. His.

Her stomach lurched.

With everything she had, she shoved him off and bolted for the bathroom.

Moments later, a crash rang out—furniture splintering, glass breaking.

When Hailey stepped out, the room was trashed. Nolan was gone.

She just stood there, pale and hollow, hunched like something had cracked inside her.

Eyes empty, she drifted back to her room.

She called the nurse. "Can I see my mom?"

"Ms. Hart, great news—she might wake up very soon!"

Hailey wiped her face fast.

"That's... that's amazing. Thank you."

But the tears didn't stop. She snapped a screenshot of her mom's livestream, and hugged the phone to her chest as silent sobs shook her.

At some point, she cried herself to sleep right there on the floor.

***

Noise from outside jolted Hailey awake.

Thirsty, she headed out for water—flipped on the light and froze.

Two undressed bodies.

One was definitely Nolan.

The other... Nadine. Her cousin.

Her younger cousin.

Hailey's vision went red.

She marched straight up and slapped Nolan hard across the face.

"You sick freak!"

Nadine scrambled for her clothes, panic all over her.

"H-Hailey, don't—don't hit Nolan. I... I wanted to."

Hailey's heart cracked in two. But her eyes locked on Nolan, full of venom.

She thought if he wanted revenge on the Hart family, she could take it.

But this?

He wasn't just destroying her. He was dragging down the rest of her blood.

Eight years—he kept her as mistress, used, humiliated.

And now he was going after the girls in her family too.

Nolan licked his lip, eyes gleaming like a blade.

He kicked Nadine out.

She banged on the door, sobbing, begging to be let back in.

But he didn't even look her way.

His focus was all on Hailey.

He grabbed her throat and slammed her onto the couch.

His body burned against hers, pinning her down, mouth crashing into hers to smother her scream.

She could still smell Nadine on him.

Tears streamed down her cheeks.

He didn't stop.

When she saw him push into her—still wearing the same condom he'd used on Nadine—something inside her snapped.

"Nolan, I hate you!"

He froze.

Then he bit down on her lip—hard—until blood spilled.

In the pale moonlight, mouth stained red, he leaned in and sneered.

"You don't get to say that."