"No. You're fucking bluffing," David spat.

He didn't look like the passionate man from the VIP room anymore.

He looked like a man protecting his fortress, his eyes cold and full of venom.

"You're not fucking pregnant, Sandra. We were careful. Every single time. It's impossible!"

"David-"

"If you're just trying to ruin my life, then get the fuck out of here," he snarled, stepping into my personal space to tower over me.

"I am done with this. I am done with you. I don't want to continue this charade for one more second. I'm happy with my wife. Do you understand?! I love her!"

He turned his back on me, dismissing me as if I were nothing more than a stain on his expensive driveway.

Panic flared in my chest. I lunged forward, grabbing his arm, my fingers digging into the expensive fabric of his suit jacket.

"David, look at me! You're all I have!" I cried, "I'll tell you everything! I'm not some high-class. I'm struggling, David. I have no one. Why do you think I was at that club? I'm poor. I'm a nobody!"

He didn't move, but I could feel the tension in his arm.

I kept going, my voice cracking with a desperation that wasn't faked.

"I don't make the kind of money you think I do. Everyone thinks the men at the club just rain cash on us, but it's not like that. And since that night with you... I stopped. I stopped letting them touch me. I still dance because I have to eat, but I haven't let anyone else near me since the moment you laid hands on me. You're the father, David. Please, have some mercy!"

For a split second, I saw his gaze falter.

A flicker of something that looked like pity crossed his face, and for a heartbeat, I thought I had him.

I thought the lie-the biggest, most dangerous lie I had ever told-was going to work.

I needed him to be tied to me. I needed the security he provided!

But then, his expression hardened. The wall went back up, higher and thicker than before.

"What is the concern here, Sandra? Money?" he asked, his voice dripping with condescension.

"I am cutting ties with you. Completely."

"David, wait-"

"Enough!" he shouted, his voice echoing off the stone walls of the mansion.

"I don't want my wife to catch you here. And I'm warning you-if you try to tell her a single word of this, you won't like what I'm capable of. I have resources you can't even imagine. I can make you disappear from this city, and no one would even look for you."

He shook my hand off his arm.

"David, look at me! Believe me!" I screamed, reaching out one last time,

"Have some mercy on the child I'm carrying! How can you be so heartless?!"

He adjusted his cuffs and started walking back toward the mansion, back to his beautiful wife and his perfect life.

"I don't care even if you are telling me the truth. Kill that child."

My whole world drained.

"Guards!" he yelled, his voice cold and commanding.

"Take her away. Make sure she never sets foot on this property again. If she shows up at the office, call the police."

The security guards appeared almost instantly-two large men in black uniforms.

"Goodbye, Sandra."

It was that easy for him. He used me when he was angry, used me when he was bored, and then threw me away.

The guards dragged me down the long, gravel driveway, my heels scuffing against the stones.

When we reached the main gate, they shoved me.

"Stay out, girl," one of them muttered.

I lost my balance and fell hard onto the asphalt. The impact jarred my bones, and I felt the sharp sting of the road as it tore through my skin.

I sat there on the ground, my dress ruined, my knees and palms scraped and bleeding.

The iron gates hissed shut.

I looked down at my bloodied palms, the tears finally blurring my vision. I was back where I started-in the dirt, with nothing but my lies to keep me warm.

David was gone, and I was just another mistake he had erased from his ledger.

I wiped my face with the back of my hand, smearing blood and mascara across my cheek.

As if on cue, the sky opened up. A low rumble of thunder shook the ground beneath me, followed by a jagged flash of lightning that illuminated the dark road.

The rain started as a drizzle and turned into a downpour within seconds, soaking through my ruined dress and chilling me to the bone. It was classic, really. Even the weather was mocking me.

I forced myself to stand, my legs shaking. I had to function. I had to get home.

That night, back in my cramped, leaking apartment, I lay on my thin mattress and stared at the ceiling.

Every time I closed my eyes, I felt his hands. I felt the ghost of his touch.

I found myself reaching down, my fingers trembling as I tried to find some release.

I was already wet...just the thought of him.

I closed my eyes and imagined it was him who was fingering me-his weight, his heat, the way he'd growl my name when he lost control.

"David...!" I gasped, arching my back as I hit my climax.

But as the pleasure faded, a wave of nausea hit me.

I sat up, clutching my stomach.

I thought it was just the disgust I felt for myself, or the thought that at this very moment, he was probably doing the same thing to his wife. It was pathetic. I was pathetic.

When I tried to stand up to get a glass of water, the world tilted.

My vision went black around the edges, and a sharp, piercing dizziness made me stumble back onto the bed.

Shit.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, praying for the room to stop spinning. I figured it was just the hunger.

But the next morning, it wasn't just hunger.

I barely made it to the shared bathroom in the hallway before I was violently sick.

My stomach cramped, and a cold sweat broke out across my forehead. I couldn't even stand up without feeling like I was going to pass out.

Fear began to settle in my gut. I took the last of my savings-money I was supposed to use for rent-and went to a small, rundown clinic nearby.

The doctor was an older woman with tired eyes and a surgical mask that smelled like antiseptic.

She looked at the results of my tests, then looked at me.

"You're pregnant, Miss," she said.

Her voice felt like a gong ringing in my ears.

"About four weeks along."

I froze.

My mouth hung open, and I felt my heart hammer against my ribs.

"No... that's not possible. I was careful. I was using pills. I did everything right!"

I started to shake.

I couldn't have a baby!

This couldn't be happening! I collapsed into the plastic chair, the tears finally breaking through.

For the first time, I didn't cry because I was manipulative or angry.

I cried because I was genuinely, utterly hopeless!

"I think you need to tell the father," the doctor said gently.

"Whether he stands by you or not, he needs to know."

I wiped my eyes with a trembling hand.

I didn't have a choice anymore. The lie I told David yesterday... it wasn't a lie anymore.

"Give me the papers," I whispered.

"Give me the prescription, the test results, the evidence. Everything!"

With the medical documents clutched in my hand, I went back to the mansion.

I didn't care about the guards!

I didn't care about his threats!

When I arrived, the gates were open.

There were luxury cars lined up the driveway.

Music was blaring from the house, and I could see colorful balloons tied to the balcony.

I tried to walk toward the front door, but a valet intercepted me.

"You're not allowed here, Miss. This is a private party," he said, looking at my bedraggled hair and cheap shoes with disdain.

"What kind of party?"

"It's a baby shower," he replied.

"Mr. and Mrs. Kingsley just announced they're expecting. Someone like you isn't on the list."

My eyes widened.

My blood turned to ice.

They were celebrating their baby? While he had just thrown mine into the dirt?

"No! Let me in!" I screamed, shoving past him.

He tried to grab my arm, but I was fueled by a manic, desperate energy.

I ran toward the front entrance, dodging guests in silk dresses and tuxedos.

I reached the grand foyer just as David was standing in the center of the room, a champagne flute in his hand, his arm draped proudly around Cyndrel's waist.

"David!" I shrieked, my voice tearing through the refined chatter of the room.

The music didn't stop, but the conversation did.

A hundred pairs of wealthy, judgmental eyes turned to look at me-the girl in the torn dress, dripping with rain and clutching a crumpled medical report.

David's face went from a celebratory glow to a mask of pure, horrified white.

"I told you," I gasped, holding the papers up for everyone to see.

"I told you it was yours!"

"Sandra?"

Cyndrel's voice was small, trembling with a mix of confusion and pity.

She stepped forward, "What are you doing here?"

Around us, the whispers started.

"Who is she?"

"She smells like the street."

"Is she a beggar?"

"She must be insane to barge in here."

The words stung, but I didn't look at them.

I kept my eyes locked on David.

He was gripping his champagne flute so hard his knuckles were white.

"David, please," I gasped, stepping forward and thrusting the medical papers toward him.

"I'm not bluffing this time. I'm not lying. I went to the clinic. It's real. I'm carrying your child!"

Cyndrel looked from me to David, her eyes wide.

"Honey? What is she talking about? What child?"

David didn't look at her. He looked at me with a hatred so pure it made my breath hitch.

He took a long, slow sip of his drink, trying to regain his composure, trying to put his CEO mask back on in front of his prestigious guests.

"I'll take care of this, love," he said, his voice low and dangerous.

He stepped toward me, his shadow looming over my shivering frame.

"I told you to stay away, Sandra."

"D-Don't lie to her!" I screamed, my voice cracking.

I turned to Cyndrel, my eyes pleading.

"He's lying to you! We've been seeing each other! Behind your back! Every time he said he was working late, he was with me!"

A collective gasp echoed. Cyndrel took a step back, her hand flying to her mouth.

"I'm pregnant with his baby!" I shouted.

For a second, the place was deathly still. Then, David snapped.

"That is a fucking lie!" he roared, pointing a finger directly at my face.

The sheer volume of his voice made me flinch.

"Enough with these delusions, Sandra! Enough!"

He turned to the crowd, his arms spread wide as if he were giving a speech at a board meeting.

"I never touched this woman! I hired her as a temporary assistant out of the kindness of my heart, but she became obsessed. She tried to seduce me, pushing herself on me in my own office! I fired her because she was a predator!"

David continued, his voice dripping with feigned disgust.

"And now she shows up here, at my wife's baby shower, with some fake papers to try and extort me? To try and ruin my family?!"

He turned back to me, leaning in so close I could see the tiny flecks of amber in his eyes.

"Nothing happened between us!" he yelled for the entire room to hear.

"We made love, David!" I tried to defend myself, but the more I screamed, the more "insane" I looked to the crowd.

I was the girl in the wet, cheap dress. He was the billionaire in the tuxedo.

They had already decided who to believe.

David looked at the champagne flute in his hand. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he threw the contents directly into my face.

The cold, stinging alcohol hit my eyes and mouth.

It dripped down my chin, mixing with my tears. I stood there, stunned, feeling like a dog that had been kicked. I had never felt so small, so dirty, so utterly small.

"Get out of my house," he said, his voice a cold, dead hiss.

He then grabbed the medical reports from me and tore them.

"Guards! Throw this trash out and make sure she's arrested if she ever comes near my property again!"

The guards moved in fast this time.

They grabbed me by my hair and my arms, dragging me across the floor.

"Get your hands off me!" I screamed.

I tried to kick, to bite, to do anything to get back to him, but they were twice my size!

"David!" I choked out.

I stopped fighting for a second and looked him straight in the eyes.

I let the mask fall.

For the first time, I wasn't the seductress or the "secretary."

I was just Sandra.

The tears were streaming down my face, carving tracks through the champagne and the grime on my cheeks. I let him see the raw, bleeding truth of my heartbreak.

"I'm not lying to you..." I sobbed, my voice a broken whisper that carried across the silent area.

"I'm telling you the truth. I loved you, David. I really did. I know my mistakes. I admit I used to be after something from you, but that doesn't matter anymore. Right now... you're really the father. And...you're the only one I have."

I saw him freeze.

For a fleeting, beautiful second, his expression muffled.

His hand reached out instinctively, his fingers twitching as if he wanted to come to me, to sweep me away from the guards and tell me he was sorry.

The mask of the billionaire CEO cracked, and the man I knew-the man who held me in the dark-looked back at me.

"Please...David..."

Before he could find his voice, Cyndrel stepped forward.

The pity in her eyes was gone, replaced by a sharp, cold triumph.

She looked at me with a disgust so deep it made my skin crawl.

"I knew it!" she said, her voice loud enough for every guest to hear.

"From the very beginning, I knew there was something wrong with you. The way you look, the way you act... always finding reasons to be here at the mansion. You were always a slut, Sandra!"

She turned to David, placing her hand possessively on his chest, right over his heart.

"It's a good thing you fired her, my love. This just proves how much you love me. You chose our family over this... this trash."

"Let's continue the party, everyone," she utter, "Take her away. Now!"

The guards didn't wait. They dragged me out.

I looked back one last time and saw Cyndrel take David's face in her hands.

She leaned in and kissed him deeply, a public display of ownership.

David was hesitant at first.

He was still looking at me when Cyndrel deepened the kiss, forcing him to close his eyes, leaning into the kiss as if he were savoring the warmth, letting her erase the memory of me right then and there.

My vision blurred.

The guards drove me to the edge of the estate and literally threw me into the street.

I hit the pavement hard, my body rolling until I slammed into a pile of overflowing trash bags at the curb.

I was back. Back in the trash. Back in the dirt where I belonged.

I tried to crawl.

I dug my broken nails into the asphalt, trying to drag myself back toward those gates, but my body finally gave out.

I lay there in the rain, the cold seeping into my lungs.

The physical pain from the scrapes on my knees was nothing compared to the hollow, soul-crushing ache in my chest.

I was alone.

No money, no home, and a baby growing inside me that was already hated by its own father.

The stress of the last few days, the lack of food, and the sheer exhaustion finally caught up to me.

My breathing became shallow, and the darkness at the edges of my vision began to close in. I felt my heart slow down, the cold numbing my limbs.

I was ready to let go.

But then I felt a pair of strong, steady hands sliding under my back and knees.

Someone was lifting me, pulling me out of the filth.

My head rolled against a firm shoulder, and the scent of the man was different-not the woody, expensive scent of David, but something metallic and clean.

"I've got you," a voice rumbled.

That was the last thing I heard before the world finally went black.

I woke up to the sound of screaming.

"You're absolutely useless! A flat-out parasite! You can't even pay your damn rent, so why should I keep you under my roof?"

I was disoriented.

My head felt like it had been cracked open, and my vision was blurry.

As I blinked my eyes open, the first thing I saw wasn't a ceiling, but the gray, overcast sky.

I wasn't in a bed. I was lying on the cold, cracked pavement of the alleyway outside my apartment building.

My heart skipped a beat as I looked around. My things-my cheap belongings-were scattered everywhere.

People were standing around, stopping on their way to work or market.

They weren't helping. They were laughing. They were pointing at me like I was a piece of street theater.

"W-What are you doing?!" I shrieked. I scrambled to my feet, but my knees were weak, and I nearly fell back down.

"Stop it! What is going on?"

I didn't remember how I got here. How did I end up back at the apartment?

My landlord, Marta, stood at the top of the stairs, her face purple with rage.

She held my last remaining bag and threw it with all her might. It hit the ground near my feet, the contents spilling out into the mud.

"What am I doing? I'm throwing out the trash!" she yelled, pointing a finger at me.

"Get out of here! Don't you ever show your face in this building again. You haven't paid a cent in two months. I let you stay here out of pity, but I'm done. Enough is enough!"

"P-Please!" I begged, "You can't do this! I have nowhere to go. I don't have any money!"

"I don't give a damn!" she shouted back, crossing her arms tightly over her chest, her eyes flashing with anger. "I've had enough of this nonsense!"

"Please... you have to listen. I'm pregnant!"

"That's your problem to figure out. Go sleep on the sidewalk for all I care. Maybe one of your 'customers' will give you a box to live in!"

She turned her back on me and slammed the door. I stood there, frozen.

My heart was breaking, but I forced myself to stood up straight.

I remembered the man from last night-the one who carried me.

Who was he?

Did he bring me here?

Or did he just drop me off like a package he didn't want to deal with?

My memory was a dark, foggy hole, and the disorientation made me feel like I was drowning.

I managed to shove most of my things into the suitcase. I stood up, dragging the heavy, broken bag behind me. I didn't know where I was going.

I had no friends, no family...nothing.

But as I reached the end of the alley, a black car with tinted windows pulled up sharply, screeching to a halt right in front of me.

I tried to ignore the car.

I was too tired, too broken, and too filthy to care about another luxury vehicle parked in a place it didn't belong.

I tightened my grip on the handle of my broken suitcase and tried to limp past, but the rear door swung open with a smooth, expensive click, blocking my path.

A man stepped out, and for a terrifying heartbeat, my breath hitched in my throat.

He was tall, built with the same broad shoulders and commanding presence that David had.

From a distance, in the glare of the morning sun, I almost called out his name.

But then the stranger reached up and slid his dark sunglasses off, and the illusion shattered.

He was handsome-dangerously so-but in a way that was sharper, more predatory than David.

His eyes were a piercing, cold gray, and they scanned me from my tangled hair down to my scraped, muddy knees.

"Can you fucking excuse me?" I snapped, "You're in the way."

I tried to side-step him, dragging my heavy bag through the dirt, but he let out a low, sexy chuckle that grated on my nerves.

"I believe you owe me a thank you, Sandra," he said.

I stopped in my tracks.

"W-What? How did you know my name?"

"I saved you last night," he said, tilting his head.

"You were face-down in the gutter outside a mansion that didn't want you. If I hadn't picked you up, someone would have finished what he started."

The memories of the night came rushing back.

I looked down.

"How do you know about David?"

He leaned against the frame of the car, crossing his arms.

"After finding out you were the 'mistress'..."

He used his fingers to make air quotes around the word.

"...and hearing all about how you were 'seducing' poor, innocent David, I figured you were someone worth knowing. Especially since he wants to dispose of you so badly to keep his perfect little life from falling apart."

He was probably at the party, that's why he knew.

"You brought me back here."

"Yes," he said with a smirk.

"I didn't know which room was yours, so I left you near the entrance. I was supposed to take you to my home, but then again, I knew that would look weird. It seems things turned into a bit of a ruckus this morning, though. Seeing your life thrown out onto the pavement... it's a bit pathetic, don't you think? I believe you actually need some help."

The pity in his voice sparked a flare of my old pride.

"I don't need help from someone like you. I'll be better off alone," I spat.

"So back off. I don't know how you found out where I live, but I don't care. I'm done with him. I'm done with all of it."

I turned my back on him, determined to walk away even if it meant sleeping under a bridge. But before I could take two steps, his hand shot out and gripped my wrist.

The contact sent a jolt of electricity through my body.

It wasn't the creepy, skin-crawling feeling I got from the men at the club.

It was something else-a sudden, paralyzing chill that made every hair on my arms stand up.

I was unable to pull away, trapped by the intensity of his grip.

"I am the only one who can help you now, Sandra, and bring about my brother's downfall," his voice dropping to a serious, dark tone.

His brother?

I froze, heart skipping a beat. I hadn't known he had a brother.

I slowly turned to face him, my heart hammering.

"How? Why do you care about David's problems?"

His eyes darkened, a shadow of something unreadable flickering across his face.

Everything suddenly made a little more sense, and yet, a thousand questions raced through my mind, leaving me both stunned and uneasy.

"Or, more accurately, my half-brother. And we are not on good terms. He has something that rightfully belongs to me. I think you're the key to helping me take it back."

"No," I said, shaking my head and trying to wrench my arm free.

"I'm done. I don't want any more of David. He threw me away like trash. I won't be a pawn in your family drama."

"You don't understand, Sandra," he said, stepping closer until I could smell the expensive tobacco and mint on his breath.

"Your life is in danger. You think you're safe just because you're away from the mansion? You saw Cyndrel yesterday. She looks like a saint, doesn't she? Those soft smiles, that gentle voice?"

He let out a dry, humorless laugh.

"Underneath that fake exterior, she is ruthless. She's a predator who protects what's hers with blood."

"She wants you dead, Sandra. Not just gone, but erased. She wants David all to herself, and she won't let a 'mistress' with a pregnant belly stand in the way of her perfect family. Whether you like it or not, I'm the only wall between you and whatever she has planned for you."