Sariah had just hung up the phone when Adelaide’s soft voice drifted from behind her. She spun around nervous, and found Adelaide standing by the kitchenette.

Adelaide was poised, elegant—even just standing there, her presence sent a jolt of intimidation straight through Sariah.

"Ms. Patterson… d-do you need something?" Sariah stammered.

"I just remembered I forgot a few travel necessities. Could you pick them up for me?" Adelaide handed her a handwritten list. Her script was just as neat and polished as she was.

Sariah froze when her eyes landed on one word: condoms. It felt like a knife twisted right through her chest.

"Keep this quiet, won't you?" Adelaide whispered, throwing her a soft, secret little wink.

Sariah nodded awkwardly and hurried out of the kitchenette, desperate to get away. Her mind wandered back to the first time she’d been with Emory.

She’d just turned nineteen. It was her birthday, and he’d showed up with flowers and a spiced honey cake. She’d grown up an orphan—she’d never had a birthday cake of her own before. That little cake, that stupid bouquet, was all it took to sweep her off her feet. She’d been ready to give him everything.

She laughed bitterly at how stupid she’d been. People always say that if you don’t raise a girl with nice things, she’ll fall for any little trash that comes her way. Four years with Emory, and she’d never once had to buy condoms. He hated using them. Always insisted she just take the pill.

But for Adelaide? He was thoughtful enough to care about her convenience, of course. Wouldn’t dream of making her go through the hassle of pills every day.

The whole drive to the airport, Sariah didn’t say a word. "We’re running late. Speed it up," Emory said, finally picking up on how quiet she was.

"Yes, Mr. Kelly," Sariah answered, and turned left on the green light. Just after the car in front cleared the intersection, a little boy suddenly bolted out into the road, running straight through his red light. Sariah jerked the wheel hard to miss him, and slammed straight into the median.

"Adelaide!" Emory shouted the second the crash happened, instinctively yanking her into his protective arms.

Lucky for them, we weren’t going fast. Only the driver’s side took major damage. The airbag went off, and I ended up pinned in my crumpled seat, my left leg trapped under the wreckage, pain screaming through my whole body.

"Emory…" Sariah’s voice shook with terror. "Help me…"

That trapped, can’t-move feeling? It terrified her. Back in her freshman year of college, Phoenix locked her inside a wooden equipment storage box. She screamed and pounded until her hands were raw, and no one came. That suffocating, locked-in panic had been unbearable.

If a janitor hadn’t noticed the water leak on the floor the next day, she would’ve died in there…

"Emory!" When she saw Emory starting to climb out of the car, she panicked, forgetting all about hiding her feelings in front of Adelaide. "Don’t leave me…"

"The rescuers and cops will handle her," Emory said, his face sour as he shielded Adelaide with his body and stepped out of the wreck to call for help.

"That's your assistant still in there, isn't it?" Adelaide noted, eyeing him suspiciously. No assistant calls their boss by his first name, after all.

Emory pulled her tighter against his chest, glancing indifferently at Sariah trapped inside the crumpled car. He checked his watch. "No time. The crash isn't that bad. We'll grab a cab to the airport. Emergency services will take care of her."

Adelaide nodded, threw Sariah a knowing little look, and followed him, leaving the crash site behind them.

Sariah pounded on the window like a madwoman, but Emory never looked back. She knew he was just scared of Adelaide misunderstanding.

Watching him walk away, Sariah completely broke. "Emory, save me… you promised you'd never leave me…"

"Liar! You're a fucking liar, Emory! You promised you'd always protect me!"

Her emotions spiraled completely out of control. The old depression and panic made her twist and thrash in the confined space. Her injuries, not life-threatening at first, only got worse as she fought wildly against the wreckage.

"Let me out… let me out!" Sariah screamed, pounding the glass over and over. The trauma from that freshman year nightmare had swallowed any trace of rational thought, especially when the acrid stench of smoke from the burning engine seeped into the cab.

"That car's on fire!" someone yelled from the street.

"Is anyone still in there? I just saw two people leave."

Sariah sat trapped, counting silently under her breath. That night in the wooden box, she'd counted all the way to 6,788…

She wondered what number she'd get to before this all ended.

Sariah Allen’s life had been nothing but one hard knock after another, but this time? She’d lived to tell the tale. When she woke up, it was already the next morning.

"Bruised right arm, mild concussion, a few soft tissue injuries…" The doctor ticked off her injuries from the foot of the bed, watching as she blinked back into awareness. "Anything else hurting right now?"

Sariah just shook her head and reached for her phone. Emory Kelly hadn’t even bothered to check in. But weirdly enough—Emory, who never posted anything on social media—had just shared a new photo: a breathtaking shot of the snow-capped Alps, all grand and majestic.

Of course, the real center of attention wasn’t the mountains. It was Adelaide Patterson, glowing in a show-stopping Victorian gown. Her beauty outshone even that insane backdrop.

Sariah curled deeper under her hospital blankets, and the tears just came. Four years with Emory, and what was she to him, really?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Once they discharged her, she stumbled back to her tiny apartment, popped a couple ibuprofens, and crashed. The girl’s resilience was unreal—she slept straight through the whole next day before she felt even remotely ready to face the world again.

She slapping on a few pain relief patches, then headed into work. Gotta earn that intern paycheck, after all.

"Did you see Mr. Kelly’s post? Oh my god, he never posts anything, and he does this just for Miss Patterson?" a coworker gossiped the second Sariah walked through the door.

"Mr. Kelly’s such a gentleman, waiting all these years just for her. Ugh, it’s like a fairytale."

Sariah just snorted quietly as she dropped her bag at her desk. Fine, Emory actually loved Adelaide—she’d give him that. But this whole "man of integrity" act? Total garbage.

The irony of it all hit her hard. Most guys are like that, aren’t they? They can split love and sex into two totally separate boxes. He was head over heels for Adelaide emotionally, but that didn’t stop him from crawling into Sariah’s bed night after night.

"Ms. Allen? This is the work floor—Mr. Kelly said you aren’t allowed…"

A commotion blew up by the elevators. Sariah glanced over, and cold dread immediately coiled in her gut.

Amelia Kelly was here.

"Get the hell out of my way!" Amelia snapped, striding straight toward Sariah in her designer suit and stilettos, arrogance rolling off her in waves.

Sariah shrank into herself, hunching her shoulders like she could just disappear. The terror of that freshman year bullying never really went away, not even after all this time.

"Sariah. My brother’s back in town. He and Adelaide are getting married," Amelia purred into her ear, voice thick with poison.

She smirked, cold and cruel. "Four years ago I warned you—when my brother throws you away, your life’s over…"

Sariah froze. Her whole body went rigid.

Four years later, and Amelia still wouldn’t leave her the hell alone.

Smack!

Amelia slapped her right across the face, in front of the entire office. Everyone saw.

Sariah didn’t hit back. She didn’t even make a sound.

She’d own it: she was a coward. She couldn’t afford to mess with Amelia, not when she barely had enough to get by as it was.

She’d thought about fighting back a hundred times, but as long as she wanted to keep her head above water? She couldn’t act on it.

Maybe someday, if she really hit rock bottom, she’d drag Amelia right down to hell with her. But right now? She was just trying to survive, and that meant keeping her head down.

"You remember this slap? Four years ago, my brother hit me because of you. Sent me overseas to get me out of the way! He never laid a hand on me before that—never! And he did it for you!" Amelia laughed a bitter, broken laugh, then grabbed a full cup of coffee off the nearest desk and dumped it straight over Sariah’s head.

"You seriously think you’re something special just because you latched onto my brother? You’re nothing. Just a pathetic orphan. Who is my brother, anyway? You don’t actually think he’d marry you, do you?"

Amelia shoved Sariah’s head hard, disgust twisting her face. "Get out of Kelly Group, or I’ll post every last one of your dirty secrets to the company group chat."

Sariah stayed silent, head bowed so low her hair hid her face.

The "dirty secrets" Amelia was talking about? That humiliating freshman year incident—when Amelia and her friends stripped her and took photos. Or maybe it was the four-year affair with her brother. Either way, it was all ammunition to destroy her.

No one in the office dared say a word to defend Sariah. Amelia was the heiress, after all. Who was going to risk their job for the orphan intern?

After Amelia stormed out, one coworker leaned over and whispered, "Sariah, how’d you end up on the bad side of the Kelly heiress?"

Sariah forced a wobbly smile as she blotted coffee off her face with a napkin. "We were college roommates. Just… old history."

She headed to the restroom, cleaning herself up in the quiet back stall. She didn’t cry.

Back in freshman year, she’d cried her eyes out over how unfair life was. She’d cried until she couldn’t breathe.

Was it her fault she was an orphan?

Did not having rich family connections mean she deserved to be treated like garbage?

But now she knew the cold, hard truth: being an orphan made you an easy target. No connections meant no one would have your back. Bullies don’t care about fair. They just care about who they can push around.

Ding!

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She glanced down. Emory had sent her five thousand dollars via WhatsApp.

The whole scene at the office had to be all over the office gossip by now. Emory definitely knew Amelia had come after her.

Five thousand dollars for a slap. Nice, neat little transaction.

"I talked to Amelia, told her off. Go treat yourself," Emory added in a voice note right after.

Same old line, every single time. Treat yourself.

"Thank you, Mr. Kelly."

Sariah accepted the money. She’d earned it, putting up with all this garbage.

Staring at the chat screen, she couldn’t even name what she’d been hoping for. A little concern, maybe? A question asking if she was hurt after everything that’d happened? But there was nothing like that. Nothing at all.

She locked her phone and walked straight to HR to hand in her resignation. As an intern, the process was quick and painless.

Tomorrow was Thanksgiving. She was heading to Riverside Mansion to meet Mr. Sullivan.

If she could grab this opportunity, she could finally leave Georgetown for good.

She could finally escape Emory Kelly.

After wiring fifty grand to her bank account, Sariah Allen stepped out of the office and headed straight for the big shopping mall downtown. Fifty thousand dollars was life-changing money for her. To Emory Kelly? It was basically pocket change.

"I'd like to see that bag, please." Sariah screwed up her courage and stepped into the luxury boutique.

The saleswoman flicked a quick, dismissive glance over her, taking in every detail of her outfit. "That one's forty-nine thousand eight hundred," she said, voice thick with condescension.

Sariah gave a small smile. That was almost exactly what she had. "I'll take it. Wrap it up for me, please," she answered calmly, then sank into a nearby chair—her bad leg was throbbing.

The saleswoman's whole energy shifted instantly. She pasted on a sugary friendly smile and hurried off to grab the bag for Sariah.

In this store, a forty-thousand-dollar bag was barely entry-level, nothing fancy at all. But for Sariah? It was supposed to be her dignity. Holding the smooth leather in her hands, she felt its heavy weight settle into her palms. This luxury item didn't make her feel any more confident. If anything, it only dug her sense of not belonging deeper.

Before she turned away from the counter, Sariah caught sight of another bag tucked in a locked glass display case. "How much is that one?" she asked.

She'd seen Adelaide Patterson carrying that exact same bag before—a gift straight from Emory Kelly. Adelaide had held it like it belonged to her, all polished grace and unshakable confidence.

"That's a limited edition," the saleswoman explained, still smiling wide. "To get one, you either need to have spent over three million dollars with our brand, or buy a bundle of additional pieces that adds up to around a million."

Sariah froze mid-step. Three million dollars… It was nothing, loose change Emory could throw away just to make Adelaide smile. But for the orphanage Sariah loved, that same amount would save lives.

In this life, fate treated people like some things were priceless, and others worthless.

Sariah had always been born into the worthless category.

The gap between her and Adelaide wasn't just the price tag on a handbag. It was blood, it was upbringing, it was woven into every tiny, ordinary detail of who they were.

Emory would never give Adelaide anything less than the best. Because he knew her worth went way beyond a few thousand dollars.

And here she was—some lowly toad deluding herself she could ever be a swan. It was pathetic.

Back at her tiny rented apartment, Sariah immediately listed the bag on a secondhand resale site. It was brand new, so she priced it just below retail to move it fast. As soon as it sold, she planned to wire every cent to Laurel Hayes, the director of the orphanage.

The kids still needed warm winter coats. Forty thousand dollars would make sure they got everything they needed to get through the cold.

After a long hot shower, Sariah stood naked in front of her closet, picking out an outfit for her meeting with Mr. Sullivan the next day.

The door clicked open out of nowhere. Emory Kelly had let himself in without even texting he was coming.

Sariah jumped, fumbling to wrap a towel around herself fast. "Mr. Kelly…"

"You quit?" Emory frowned, shifting the small paper bag of fruit he'd picked up from the corner bodega in his hand.

He never showed up empty-handed, but his gifts were always simple: a spiced honey cake, a handful of fruit, a cheap bunch of grocery store flowers.

"Yes." Sariah nodded. This apartment was Emory's, after all—he'd paid for it for her. It wasn't a surprise he came and went as he pleased.

"Don't worry about Lu Miaomiao. I'm taking care of it," Emory said, his eyes scanning her face before he tugged her down to sit beside him on the bed. His tone was softer than usual. "Does it still hurt?"

Sariah stared at her feet and shook her head.

"I talked to HR. They didn't process your resignation. They're putting you on paid leave. Come back whenever you're ready," Emory said, offering her this special favor like it was nothing.

But to Sariah, it just felt like charity.

Emory had always been good to her, ever since he'd found out his sister had been bullying her nonstop. He'd stepped in as her benefactor, always looking down at her from his high place.

"Are you getting married?" Sariah drew in a deep breath and forced the question out.

Emory went quiet. He didn't answer.

Sariah ignored the burn behind her eyes and forced a smile. "I'm not coming back to the company. I'll move out soon, too. Emory, let's end this. I hope you and Miss Patterson have a happy life together."

She had principles. She had a line. She wasn't going to be the other woman breaking up a marriage.

Emory's frown deepened. He was clearly pissed off. "Are you trying to start drama?"

Sariah let out a weak, bitter laugh. "No…"

Emory tugged her into his arms, like he was trying to soothe her. "Stay here, be comfortable. We'll figure all this out after the wedding."

He spoke like it was no big deal, completely unaware how much his words cut her open.

Maybe he'd never once thought of her as his equal.

"That day, after the accident, Adelaide was shaken up. She feels a little guilty she hasn't checked on you," Emory murmured, his fingers automatically drifting to stroke the curve of her waist. He'd always loved her body—shaped it himself, ever since she was a teenager.

When she was nineteen, Sariah had been malnourished, stunted, smaller than all the other girls her age. Then Emory had taken her in, made sure she never had to survive on dry bread and pickles again.

"Tomorrow night Adelaide's hosting a small Thanksgiving dinner for a couple friends. I'm planning to propose there, and I need you to help get everything ready."

As he spoke, Emory untied the towel wrapped around Sariah's body, his movements easy, unhurried, like he owned her. His warm breath fanned over the side of her neck.

Sariah couldn't deny it any longer—he was truly cruel.

At the end of the day, he was just the same as his sister.

Hadn't Adelaide satisfied him when they were in the Bahamas?

"I'm not going…" Sariah pushed him away, yanking the towel back around herself. A wave of nausea rolled up her throat. She already had an appointment with Robert Sullivan tomorrow evening.

"If you don't go, she'll get suspicious," Emory pressed, clearly annoyed by her refusal. "After her divorce, she's more sensitive. I don't want her suspecting anything about us."