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."

Sariah Allen’s voice came out raw and hoarse as she stood face to face with Emory Kelly, every emotion inside her screaming to break free. "You proposed to her, and now you want me to help your future wife… Emory, how are you any different from every other guy out there? How can you be this cold?"

She couldn’t hold it back anymore.

Emory’s expression didn’t so much as flicker as he stared back at her. "And you still swear you’re not picking a fight?"

Sariah could barely draw breath. What she wanted most, Emory would never give her.

"Even if I don’t marry Adelaide, I’m still marrying someone else—probably that Johnson heiress, or one of the Lee girls. But you? Never. Get it through your head."

Emory didn’t sugarcoat it. Not even a little.

Sariah had no name, no family fortune. She didn’t belong in his world, and he was a man who guarded his social circle fiercely. Keeping her around this long was already the most reckless thing he’d ever done.

There was no way he’d ever give her his last name, a ring, any kind of public title.

Sariah laughed, bitter and sharp. "I never asked you to marry me. I know where we stand… I knew this would end eventually."

"Sariah, be practical. If you play nice, when this is over I won’t leave you hanging. Pick any property in the city you want. I’ll make sure you get a car, enough money to live comfortably for life," Emory said, pushing to his feet and stepping closer to her. "Be here early tomorrow."

"I want to get married too, Emory," Sariah said, numb all over.

Emory froze, then turned back to face her.

"I’m serious." Tears spilled over her cheeks before she could stop them, giving her away.

"Get some rest. I’ll write this off as you being stubborn. When you’re ready to end this and settle down, just tell me. I’ll find you a nice, promising boy from a good family within the company," Emory said, all magnanimous as he turned to leave.

He was certain a girl with her background could never land a good man on her own.

He truly believed he’d been more than patient with her.

Anything she wanted, he’d give it to her. Except marriage. Except a name.

Sariah’s bitter laugh hung soft in the air as she crumpled to the floor, broken. He’d had her for four years, and now that he was bored, he was just going to marry her off to some guy he could push around.

He controlled every part of her now, and he wanted to control her future too. Emory was cruel, through and through.

But it didn’t matter. Tonight, she was meeting Mr. Sullivan. Robert Sullivan was someone even Emory wouldn’t dare mess with. If she could marry him, this whole nightmare would be over.

The next day at Ridgeview Estates.

Every million-dollar mansion in the city was developed by Ridgeview Properties. The gated villa neighborhood Emory called home, and Robert Sullivan’s sprawling estate—both were part of this elite enclave.

Sariah wasn’t a stranger to Emory’s place. As his assistant, she’d picked him up here dozens of times. But every time she stepped through the gates, a knot twisted in her stomach. Maybe it was because she’d grown up orphaned, that she craved a real home more than most people ever could.

Emory kept her at arm’s length. The luxury high-rise apartment he’d given her was one of the niches in the city, but it was never a home.

It was just a gilded cage, built to keep her locked up.

Emory’s real home was here. And she would never have a spot in it.

"Your assistant’s here," Adelaide said, smiling as Sariah stepped inside.

Adelaide carried herself with the easy, innate authority of a woman born to be the lady of the house. It looked natural on her. Effortless.

Sariah had once daydreamed about what it would be like to marry Emory, to stand here as the woman of this house…

But now, the thought just made her want to laugh. She never belonged in this world of money and privilege.

"Miss Adelaide, I brought you a little gift."

Sariah had come with a handmade spiced honey cake.

She made these all the time for the kids back at the orphanage. It wasn’t expensive, but it came from the heart.

Not that anything she could afford would mean anything to a woman like Adelaide anyway.

Adelaide took the box, peeked inside, and smiled, glancing over at Emory. "Funny. Emory has this exact same cake in his car right now."

Emory’s brow furrowed, and the room went thick with tension.

He was probably convinced Sariah had brought the cake on purpose to start a fight with Adelaide. That she’d done it to make her look bad. He was already furious.

But Sariah had no idea Emory had any of her cake in his car. Honest.

"It’s just… Emory’s been too busy to eat breakfast lately, so I made an extra batch and left some at the office…" Sariah rushed to explain, her fingers going stiff with anxiety.

Her depression had been showing up more and more physically lately, and it was getting worse.

"Seems like Emory really loves the cake his assistant makes, huh? Bringing it out in the car with him," Adelaide murmured, her voice soft as silk.

But that softness hid a thousand sharp daggers.

Sariah dropped her gaze. She knew no matter what she said, Emory would just think she’d done this on purpose to provoke Adelaide.

"I’m not a fan. Probably tossed the whole thing in the trash, and my assistant fished it out and stuck it in the car," Emory answered casually, like it was no big deal.

Blame it on the random assistant and driver. Perfect scapegoat.

Sariah’s body went a little stiff. Trash… The cake she’d woken up at dawn to make, burned her hand pulling it out of the oven… it was just trash to Emory.

He’d stabbed her right where it hurt, and he didn’t even blink.

Adelaide smiled sweetly and told the housekeeper to get Sariah a pair of disposable slippers. "Don’t be nervous, come on. Let me introduce you to my friends."

Disposable slippers for Sariah, while all of Adelaide’s other guests had their own permanent guest slippers waiting.

It meant one thing: Sariah was only welcome here for today. Just this one visit.

Emory said Adelaide was sensitive, still raw from her divorce, but he didn’t get it—Sariah’s feelings were so much more fragile than Adelaide’s ever could be.

She was an orphan, raised in an orphanage. Reading room, reading people, that was how you survived. You learned to pick up on every little snub.

Emory definitely noticed the difference with the slippers. But he said nothing. He let it stand.

He accepted that Sariah was only good enough to be a one-time guest in his home.

"Let me introduce you all to Emory’s assistant—such a pretty young thing," Adelaide said, leading Sariah into the sunlit coffee room full of guests.

Sariah bowed her head in greeting, but when she lifted it, ice flooded her veins.

There were six people in the room…

Three of them were her old college classmates. The same three who’d bullied her nonstop back then.

Lily Kelly, Phoenix Patterson, Yvette Diaz…

Sariah froze solid, her whole body shaking uncontrollably, and her eyes flew to Emory, begging for help.

Maybe Adelaide didn’t know what happened between them. But Emory did. He had to.

He knew Adelaide was planning to invite these three. And he still made her come anyway.

Did he want to watch her break?