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?

Emory wouldn't meet Sariah's eyes. He shot Misty a sharp warning look before retreating straight to his study. No matter how hard Sariah struggled, no matter how loud she begged for help, he stayed cold and distant. He'd already made up his mind: she'd brought those cookies just to provoke Adelaide, and she deserved to be punished his way.

Misty smirked, sharing a knowing, dirty look with Phoenix and Sadie. Their laughter cut sharp, cruel and sick, echoing through the room like a pack of taunting demons.

"Come sit down, my little helper," Adelaide purred, beckoning Sariah closer. Her voice sounded sweet as sugar, but it reeked of malice under the surface.

Sariah froze solid, rooted to the spot. All the old memories of their relentless bullying came crashing back, and she couldn't make her legs move an inch.

"Well if it isn't Sariah, our old college queen," Phoenix sneered, his voice thick with sarcasm that dripped off every word.

Adelaide put on her best shocked face. "Oh, you two went to school together? How lovely—make sure you all play nice, won't you?"

One thought screamed through Sariah's head on repeat: *Run. Get out.*

"Sister Adelaide..." Sariah's voice shook so bad it barely came out. "I... I just remembered I have something I need to do back home. I have to go. I'm so sorry..."

She spun around fast, desperate to bolt, but her legs gave out completely. She crumpled to the ground before she even got two steps.

"C'mon, let's go keep our old friend company," Misty purred, as she and the others closed in on Sariah where she lay.

Sariah was desperate to scramble away, but she couldn't move. It wasn't fear of *them* that paralyzed her—it was the rotten, haunting past they dragged back to the surface.

"What's wrong? Can't get your feet under you?" Phoenix mocked, grabbing Sariah by the collar of her shirt and yanking her upright hard. "Our little queen didn't trip and hurt herself, did she?"

Sariah hung her head. Her left ear throbbed so bad it ached, her whole face tight with terror. She was dying to run, but she was trapped, locked in by circumstances she couldn't outrun.

"Emory's getting married, didn't you hear? To *my* sister, of all people..." Phoenix kept going, slinging an arm around her shoulders and shoving her toward the door.

Sariah knew exactly what Phoenix was doing: he lived for any chance to twist the knife and torment her. She remembered the first time they met, how she turned him down—and that's when the living nightmare started.

He got back at her by humiliating her over and over. Took compromising photos of her, burned her with cigarettes, egged Misty and Sadie on to beat her. They locked her in a old wooden crate, forced her to sleep in public bathroom stalls.

If she fought back, they'd destroy her scholarship. They'd destroy the orphanage—the only home she ever had, which relied entirely on her keeping that scholarship and succeeding.

So she endured to survive. Even when the pain was too much to bear, she bit down and took it, never flinching.

"Say something!" Sadie snapped, fed up with her silence. She kicked Sariah right back to the grass. "Emory's done with you. Keep pushing us, and we'll burn that stupid orphanage of yours to the ground!"

Sariah lay in the dirt, brushing grass and mud off her arms. She'd been supposed to meet Mr. Sullivan later, had been so careful planning to make a good impression. Now that felt like a stupid, impossible dream.

"Got nothing to say? Deaf and dumb now, are we?" Sadie sneered, and slapped Sariah so hard her head snapped to the side.

A maid walked past the garden, spotted the whole thing, and just looked away. Like it was totally normal, like rich kids getting away with abusing people like her was just how things worked around here.

Sariah stayed silent. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction of begging.

Once Phoenix asked her what she thought about when they beat her. She never answered out loud. But the whole time, every second, she was plotting her revenge.

Every single time, though, the thought of the orphanage pulled her back. She couldn't abandon those kids—they were the only family she had left. Laurel, the director, had given up everything just to give Sariah a shot at a better life. She couldn't let her down.

The money Emory sent her every now and then wasn't much. He'd given her a credit card once, told her to blow it on whatever she wanted. The fanciest thing she ever bought with it was a four-thousand-dollar handbag—one rare, stupid indulgence.

All through college, she worked three part-time jobs just to send every extra cent back to the orphanage.

"This is getting boring," Phoenix grumbled, lighting up a cigarette like the whole thing was just a mild annoyance to him.

"You've always wanted her, anyway," Misty said, glancing over at him out of the corner of her eye. "Go ahead. Take her if you want it."

Phoenix's eyes lit up, but he just shrugged it off like it was nothing. "Nah. I don't fuck with damaged goods."

Sariah pushed herself to her feet, ignored all of them, and started walking straight for the front gate.

"What the hell is wrong with her?" Sadie snapped, furious. They'd grown up spoiled and privileged, they couldn't stand when anyone defied them.

Emory had called Sariah here, after all. That was basically permission for them to mess with her, right? So Sadie felt free to do whatever she wanted.

She charged forward, and kicked Sariah straight into the decorative lily pond by the gate. It was November, the air already biting cold around Bayside, and the water hit her like a thousand icy knives.

Sariah pulled herself up, water dripping off her face. She couldn't tell if it was pond water or tears running down her cheeks—at this point, they felt the same anyway.

"Had enough?" Emory finally spoke, stepping out onto the porch. He couldn't stand to watch anymore. Sariah knew he just didn't want Adelaide to see him step in. He knew how cruel they were, but he'd pick Adelaide's peace of mind over her safety every single time.

Adelaide followed him out, putting on that same fake shocked expression when she saw Sariah soaked to the bone. "Oh my goodness, why are you all wet, my dear assistant?"

"She... she fell in by herself..." Sadie mumbled, her voice shaking a little with unexpected guilt.

Sariah hauled herself out of the pond, and lifted her chin to meet Emory's gaze—defiant, even now.

He said nothing.

"I'm sorry. I need to go home..." Sariah's voice still shook, she just wanted to get out of there as fast as she could.

"Sariah..." Emory started, his voice uncertain. He half stepped forward, then hesitated, his eyes flicking to Adelaide over her shoulder. "I'll have the driver take you."

Sariah looked back at Emory one last time, and gave him a faint, empty smile. "No need."

She promised herself right then and there: this would be the last time she ever looked at him and felt love.

As Emory watched her walk away, a cold unease settled heavy in his gut. He couldn't shake the feeling that one day, he'd regret this choice more than anything he'd ever done.

Bayside Residence.

Sariah didn't even have time to go home and change out of her soaked clothes.