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.