Arthur got out of the driver's seat. He walked around the back of the limo and opened Leland's door. He stood at attention.

He did not open Ella's door.

Ella pushed the heavy door open herself. The icy Manhattan wind hit her bare legs instantly. She shivered, clutching the black paper bag to her chest, and stepped onto the greasy asphalt.

Leland didn't walk toward the bright lights of the lobby. He pointed a manicured finger at the dull metal service door.

"You don't get to walk through the front doors of a Campbell event," Leland said, his voice dripping with venom. "In there."

Ella nodded. She followed him into the building.

The heat of the hotel kitchen hit her like a physical blow. The air was thick with the smell of searing meat, truffle oil, and sweat.

Line cooks and waiters in white aprons paused their chopping. They stared at the pale, skinny girl in the faded blue dress trailing behind the billionaire. Their eyes held a mix of raw curiosity and blatant pity.

Ella kept her eyes on the floor.

Leland led her to a massive, dented metal freight elevator. They stepped inside. The doors rattled shut, and the elevator jerked upward to the second floor.

When the doors opened, they stepped out into a narrow, unlit corridor. It was a hidden passageway used by audio-visual technicians.

The entire right wall of the corridor was a massive two-way mirror.

Through the glass, the grand ballroom of the Four Seasons exploded in a riot of color and light. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm, golden glow over hundreds of guests in tuxedos and evening gowns.

In the dead center of the room stood Ashlyn.

She wore a custom haute couture gown. It was midnight blue, covered in thousands of tiny Swarovski crystals that caught the light with her every movement. She looked like a flawless, untouchable princess.

Leland stepped up behind Ella. He stood so close she could feel the heat radiating from his suit.

"Look at her," Leland whispered harshly in her ear.

Ella kept her face perfectly still. She watched the scene unfold.

The ballroom lights suddenly dimmed. A single, blinding white spotlight snapped on, illuminating Ashlyn and the man standing across from her.

Caleb Thorne.

He was the heir to the Thorne financial empire. He was also the boy who had kissed Ella in the rain four years ago and promised he would never let her family hurt her.

Caleb dropped to one knee. He pulled a velvet box from his pocket. The diamond inside was the size of a robin's egg. It flashed violently under the spotlight.

The crowd erupted into applause. Women gasped. Ashlyn covered her mouth with both hands, weeping perfect, delicate tears.

Leland's breath hit Ella's neck. "Did you really think Caleb would wait for a psycho? He never loved you. You were just a charity case."

He waited for Ella to break. He waited for the tears, the screaming, the jealous rage that Dr. Finch had documented in the medical files he had paid so handsomely for.

Ella watched Caleb slip the ring onto Ashlyn's finger.

Her heart didn't ache. Her chest didn't tighten. She felt absolutely nothing but a cold, heavy sense of absurdity. It was like watching a bad play performed by strangers.

She turned her head slowly. She looked Leland dead in the eye.

"When can I go out there and apologize?" Ella asked. Her tone was as casual as if she were asking for the time.

Leland's face fell. His eyes widened slightly in shock, followed immediately by a surge of furious red creeping up his neck. He had wanted to break her, and her apathy felt like a slap to his face.

"Down the hall," Leland snarled, pointing a shaking finger into the darkness. "There's a staff restroom. Put that ugly dress on. And don't you dare come out until I send someone for you."

Ella turned her back on Leland. She walked down the narrow, dimly lit corridor-a secluded passageway designed specifically to connect the main ballroom to the VIP lounges-her cheap shoes making soft scuffing sounds against the carpet.

The hallway smelled of dust and old wiring. The overhead fluorescent lights flickered, casting long, broken shadows against the walls.

She reached a corner where the corridor intersected with a heavy glass door leading to an outdoor terrace.

As she stepped past the door, a massive hand shot out from the darkness.

Thick fingers clamped around her wrist like a steel vice.

Before Ella could even gasp, a violent yank pulled her off her feet. She was dragged through the glass door and out into the freezing night air of the unlit terrace.

Her back slammed against the exterior marble wall. The impact knocked the breath out of her lungs.

The black paper bag slipped from her fingers, hitting the concrete floor with a dull thud.

Ella gasped for air. Her shoulder blades throbbed from the hard marble. She forced her eyes open, blinking against the sudden darkness.

The moonlight caught the sharp, angular jawline of the man pinning her to the wall.

Ivan Campbell. Her second oldest brother.

Ivan's eyes were bloodshot. The smell of expensive bourbon radiated from his pores. He leaned in close, his chest pressing heavily against hers, trapping her completely.

"Look who crawled out of the loony bin," Ivan sneered. His voice was a low, dangerous rumble.

Ella tried to pull her wrist free. She twisted her arm, but Ivan's grip was immovable. The difference in their physical strength was absolute.

Ivan laughed. He squeezed her wrist harder. Ella felt the bones in her arm grind together. A sharp, hot pain shot up to her elbow.

"You still smell like the ghetto," Ivan whispered, his face inches from hers. "You think putting on a dress tonight changes what you are? You're a mistake. You should have stayed lost when you were three."

Ella stopped struggling. She let her arm go limp in his grip.

She looked up into Ivan's furious, bloodshot eyes. The cold wind whipped her hair across her face.

"Why, Ivan?" Ella asked. Her voice was quiet, cutting through the wind. "From the day they brought me back when I was fourteen. You hated me instantly. Why?"

Ivan's jaw ticked. The muscle jumped under his skin. "Because you ruined this family. You made Mom and Dad look at you instead of Ashlyn."

Ella let out a short, dry laugh. The sound was entirely devoid of humor.

"You don't give a damn about Ashlyn," Ella said, her eyes piercing through his drunken haze. "You hate me because I'm real. Because you're terrified."

Ivan's breathing hitched. "Shut up."

"You're a violent, out-of-control brute," Ella continued, her words precise and surgical. "You realized the moment I walked into that house that I was smarter than you. You were terrified that the little trash girl from the foster system was going to outshine the great Ivan Campbell."

Ivan's face contorted. The truth hit him like a physical blow, shattering his fragile ego.

"I said shut up!" Ivan roared. His furious shout echoed violently down the secluded hallway, the sheer volume of his voice vibrating against the glass door.

He let go of her wrist. His large, heavy hand flew up into the air, his fingers curling into a thick, brutal fist.

Ivan didn't punch her. Instead, his massive hand shot forward and clamped directly around Ella's throat.

He shoved her upward. The soles of Ella's cheap shoes scraped against the marble wall as her feet left the ground.

Her windpipe crushed under the weight of his grip. The air in her lungs was instantly trapped.

Ella's hands flew up. She clawed frantically at Ivan's thick forearm, her fingernails digging into his expensive suit jacket.

Ivan's face was twisted into a demonic mask of pure rage. Spittle flew from his lips.

"Die," Ivan hissed, his eyes wide and unhinged. "Just die and leave us alone."

Ella's face flushed a deep, burning red. The blood pounded in her ears like a war drum. Her vision started to narrow, the edges of the world turning fuzzy and black. Her lungs screamed for oxygen.

But she didn't close her eyes. She stared down at him. She refused to let a single tear fall.

She forced her throat to open just a fraction of a millimeter against his crushing fingers.

"Glen..." Ella choked out. The word was a broken, wet rasp. "Ten years ago... the car crash."

Ivan's entire body went rigid.

"You... coward," Ella gasped, her face now turning a terrifying shade of purple.

The mention of their oldest brother's paralyzing accident hit Ivan's nervous system like a shockwave. His pupils dilated in absolute panic.

Instead of letting go, his fear made him squeeze harder.

The blackness closed in on Ella's vision. Her hands went weak, sliding off Ivan's arm.

Suddenly, the heavy glass door of the terrace was violently thrown open.

A flood of harsh yellow light spilled onto the dark balcony. Ivan's previous roar had carried through the empty VIP corridor, drawing the exact two people who were obsessed with maintaining the family's flawless image.

"Ivan!" a woman's voice shrieked.

Karen Campbell stood in the doorway, her hands pressed to her cheeks. Leland was right behind her.

Leland rushed forward. He grabbed Ivan's shoulder and yanked him backward with all his strength.

Ivan stumbled back, his hand ripping away from Ella's neck.

Without the wall and his hand holding her up, Ella collapsed. She hit the concrete floor hard, landing on her hands and knees.

She gasped loudly. The freezing air rushed into her burning lungs, feeling like swallowed glass. She coughed violently, her whole body shaking as she clutched her bruised throat.

Ivan was still thrashing against Leland's hold. "She's a demon! She knows! She's a freak!"

Karen didn't rush to her daughter on the floor. She didn't even look at Ella's purple, wheezing face.

Instead, the matriarch of the Campbell family hurried over to Ivan. She grabbed his face in her hands.

"Ivan, stop it!" Karen hissed, looking frantically around the empty terrace as if cameras were hidden in the potted plants. "Are you out of your mind? Do you know how many reporters are downstairs? If someone sees this, the company stock will plummet by morning!"

Ella sat back on her heels. She pressed her hand against the throbbing skin of her neck.

She listened to her biological mother worry about the stock market while her daughter was seconds away from being murdered.

A slow, chilling smile spread across Ella's face. It was a bleak, dead expression.

In that single moment, the last microscopic thread of hope Ella had for this family snapped. They were dead to her.