The crystal chandeliers cast a golden glow across the dining room, illuminating faces I didn't recognize. Royal had transformed our modest estate into something from a fairy tale—for her.

I stood in the shadows, dressed in the plain gray uniform of a servant rather than the fine dresses Royal once insisted I wear. My hands trembled slightly as I balanced the silver tray of wine glasses.

"More wine, Miss Willis?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper as I approached the table.

Maren Willis—beautiful, poised, everything I wasn't—looked up with distaste. "Yes, but don't spill it. These napkins are silk."

Royal smiled at her, that same smile that once made my heart race. "Don't mind Lina. She's still learning proper service."

The words cut deeper than any knife. Three months ago, I'd been his beloved. Now I was furniture—useful only for pouring wine and disappearing when not needed.

"I remember when you couldn't cook to save your life," Royal said to Maren, laughing as if sharing an inside joke. "But that cake you made last week was almost edible."

Maren giggled, placing her hand over his. "I've been taking lessons from the palace chef."

I nearly dropped the bottle. Cake? Royal had always loved my cooking by the river. The simple meals I'd prepared with love—fish we'd caught together, bread baked in our small oven.

"Excuse me," I murmured, retreating to the kitchen where I could breathe.

I pressed myself against the cool stone wall, trying to steady my racing heart. Through the partially open door, I could hear Royal speaking in low tones to Arianna, who had joined them at the table.

"...using her as a shield was genius," Arianna was saying. "Your mother would never suspect you're still involved with Maren if you keep this river rat around."

"Exactly," Royal replied. "Mother would approve of my 'charity case'—it makes me look benevolent while keeping Duchess Helena's attention away from Maren."

"And once the Duchess accepts your 'little project,'" Arianna added, "you can discard her whenever you want."

Their laughter mingled with the clink of glasses. My tray slipped from my fingers, clattering against the floor.

Royal's head snapped toward the sound. For a moment, our eyes met through the doorway. There was no recognition there—only irritation at the interruption.

---

My birthday dawned bright and cold. Eighteen years old today—though no one remembered except me.

I rose early, determined to make a cake. Not the elaborate confections Royal now preferred, but the simple one we'd shared by the river. Maybe if he tasted it, he'd remember what we once had.

The kitchen staff watched warily as I worked, kneading dough with hands that once navigated currents but now scrubbed floors.

"What are you doing?" Arianna's voice sliced through the morning quiet.

I turned, flour dusting my apron. "A cake. For Royal. For today."

Her eyes narrowed. "Today?"

"It's my birthday," I said softly.

Something flickered across her face—not kindness, but calculation. "How... quaint. Come with me."

She led me outside, where snow had fallen overnight, covering the courtyard in pristine white. Royal stood at his study window, watching the gardeners clear paths.

"Arianna," he called, spotting us. "What's happening?"

"Teaching your pet some discipline," she replied. "It's her birthday, and she thought she could bake you a cake."

Royal's expression hardened. "Is that so?"

"She needs to learn her place," Arianna continued. "Kneel there."

I froze. "What?"

"Kneel," Royal echoed, his voice cold. "A lesson in humility would do you good."

The snow soaked through my thin dress as I dropped to my knees. One hour passed. Then two. Four. Eight.

My legs lost feeling. My fingers turned blue. I kept my eyes fixed on Royal's window, willing him to look down, to remember the girl he'd loved by the river.

He never did.

---

"Miss Lina!" Kendra's voice broke through my haze of pain as she rushed across the courtyard, a blanket in her hands.

"Don't," I whispered, but she ignored me, draping the wool over my shoulders.

"Prince Royal," she called up to the window, her voice shaking but determined. "Please, sir. She's dying out here."

Royal finally appeared at the window, his face impassive. "Kendra. You forget yourself."

"She's been kneeling for eight hours," Kendra pleaded. "In the snow. On her birthday."

Something dangerous flashed in Royal's eyes. "Guards."

Two men appeared instantly, seizing Kendra by the arms.

"Please," I begged, trying to rise but collapsing back into the snow. "Don't hurt her."

"Teach her what happens to servants who question their betters," Royal ordered.

I watched in horror as they dragged Kendra to the courtyard wall. The first lash of the whip echoed across the frozen yard.

"No!" I screamed, lunging forward only to fall again.

Blood bloomed across Kendra's back as Royal watched from above, his expression unmoved.

In that moment, kneeling in the snow with my friend's blood staining the white ground, I finally understood.

The man I loved had never existed.

I couldn't take it anymore.

The memory of Kendra's blood staining the snow haunted me every night. Her back would bear those scars forever—because of me. Because she'd tried to protect me.

My legs still ached from kneeling in the cold, but the pain in my heart was worse. I'd once believed Royal's love was real. Now I knew better.

I found him in his chambers, alone for once. Maren and Arianna weren't there, nor did I hear any servants moving about. This might be my only chance.

"Royal," I said, my voice barely a whisper as I entered without knocking.

He looked up from his desk, irritation flashing across his face. "Lina. You should learn to announce yourself."

I couldn't do this standing. My legs gave out, and I fell to my knees before him—the same position I'd been forced into on my birthday, but this time by choice.

"What is this?" he asked, leaning back in his chair.

"I can't do this anymore," I said, forcing myself to meet his eyes. "Please. Release me."

Something dangerous flickered across his face. "Release you?"

"Let me go," I pleaded. "I'm not your pet. I'm not your shield. I'm a person—the person who saved your life."

His expression hardened. "And this is how you repay me? By demanding your freedom?"

"I remember the river," I whispered, tears blurring my vision. "I remember how you looked at me there. How you held me. How you promised we'd be together."

Royal stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. "You remember nothing but a fantasy."

"It wasn't a fantasy!" My voice broke. "You loved me there. You said you did."

"And now you think you can what? Remind me of my obligations?" He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "You're nothing but a convenience, Lina. A tool."

I flinched at each word, but pressed on. "Then let me go. If I'm nothing to you, let me disappear."

Royal's face transformed, rage replacing indifference. "You dare ask for freedom? After everything I've given you?"

"Given me?" I echoed, disbelief washing over me. "What have you given me except humiliation and pain?"

His hand shot out, gripping my chin painfully. "Ungrateful little rat," he hissed. "You think you can just walk away from me?"

He released me with a shove and strode to the door. "Guards!"

Two men appeared instantly—the same ones who had whipped Kendra.

"Take her to Victor Sterling," Royal ordered, not even looking at me now. "Tell him she's his to do with as he pleases."

"No!" Terror seized me as the guards grabbed my arms. "Royal, please!"

But he was already turning away, dismissing me from his life as easily as brushing lint from his jacket.

---

The guards dragged me through the city streets, their grip bruising my arms. I struggled against them, but more out of desperation than hope.

"Please," I begged as they stopped before an ornate building with black windows. "Don't do this."

The larger guard sneered. "Orders from Prince Royal himself. You should have been grateful for his generosity."

Generosity. The word echoed hollowly as they pushed me through the door.

Victor Sterling was waiting inside—a tall, thin man with eyes like a vulture's.

"So this is Royal's little charity case," he said, circling me slowly. "Not much to look at, is she?"

"Prince Royal says she's yours now," the guard replied. "Do what you want with her."

Victor's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Wonderful. I've always wanted to break one of Royal's toys."

He snapped his fingers, and two women appeared—both dressed in scraps of fabric that barely covered them.

"Take her to the cellar," Victor instructed. "Teach her what's expected here."

The cellar was damp and cold, lit only by flickering candles. They stripped me of my clothes—the last remnants of my dignity—and dressed me in something that could hardly be called clothing.

"You'll serve drinks tonight," one of the women told me, her voice flat with resignation. "Don't spill. Don't speak unless spoken to. And don't fight the customers."

"I can't do this," I whispered, crossing my arms over my exposed body.

The woman's expression softened slightly. "You can, and you will. Or they'll make it worse."

As the night wore on, I learned what she meant. My hidden strength—the power that had helped me rescue Royal from the river—became my only weapon. I used it to carry heavy trays, to fend off wandering hands, to keep standing when exhaustion threatened to bring me to my knees.

But with each passing hour, something inside me cracked a little more. The Lina who had loved Royal by the river was fading, replaced by someone harder, colder.

Someone who might survive this hell after all.

The news spread quickly. Like poison through water.

I'd been at Victor's club for barely a week when Maren Willis swept in, her perfume cutting through the stale air like a blade. She wasn't supposed to be here—not alone, not with that predatory gleam in her eyes.

"Where's the little ferryman?" she asked Victor, her voice carrying across the smoky room.

I shrank against the wall, but Victor's eyes found me instantly. "There she is, Miss Willis. Fresh meat."

Maren's laugh was crystalline and sharp. "Fresh? Hardly. But I'll take her anyway."

She led me to a private room upstairs—all red velvet and mirrors that reflected my hollow-eyed ghost back at me from every angle. I'd lost weight in the club; my collarbones jutted sharply beneath the flimsy fabric they made me wear.

"Kneel," Maren ordered, settling into an armchair like a queen on her throne.

I hesitated.

"Kneel," she repeated, "or I'll have Victor teach you what happens to girls who don't obey."

My knees hit the cold floor.

"Good." She poured tea from a silver pot, the steam rising in delicate curls. "You know, Royal told me all about you. His little pet from the river."

My hands trembled as I held the cup she extended toward me.

"Oh dear," Maren said, her voice dripping false sympathy as the scalding liquid splashed across my skin. "How clumsy of you."

I bit back a cry as the pain bloomed across my arms—angry red welts rising on my pale skin.

"Did you really think he loved you?" she asked, leaning forward to trace a finger along my jawline. "A prince? A river rat?"

The tea burned, but her words cut deeper.

"Royal says you were useful," she continued, refilling the cup. "A convenient distraction while he courted me properly."

I couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe.

"Poor thing," Maren whispered, forcing the teacup into my burned hands. "Drink up. It's the best china."

---

Royal came the next night.

And the night after.

He brought Maren with him, their hands intertwined as they entered the club like royalty greeting subjects. Victor scrambled to accommodate them, clearing the main floor despite the paying customers.

"Tonight," Royal announced, his voice carrying that familiar authority that once made my heart race, "we celebrate."

Celebrate what? I wondered, standing rigid beside their table as Victor personally served them champagne.

"The future Mrs. Howard," Royal declared, pulling Maren close.

The room spun. Mrs. Howard. The name I'd once dreamed might be mine.

"Pour," Royal ordered, gesturing to me.

My hands shook as I lifted the bottle. Three years ago, I'd poured wine for him by the riverbank, our fingers brushing as we shared simple cups. Now I stood like a statue, forced to watch as he kissed Maren deeply, his hands roaming possessively over her body.

"She's looking rather pathetic," Maren observed between kisses. "Can't you do something about her appearance?"

Royal's eyes found mine—those storm-gray eyes I'd once drowned in. Now they held nothing but contempt.

"Victor," he called. "Make sure our girl here gets some proper rest. I want her looking her best when we come back tomorrow."

Tomorrow. And the day after. And the day after that.

They came every night for a week. Royal would sit in the center of the room, Maren draped across his lap, while I stood nearby pouring wine, water, anything they demanded. He'd kiss her passionately, then look up at me with a smirk.

"Still here, Lina?" he'd ask loudly enough for everyone to hear. "Learning your place yet?"

---

The night of Victor's grand gathering arrived with a flurry of carriages and champagne towers. Every noble in New York seemed to cram into the club's already crowded space.

"The Prince and his future bride will be honored tonight," Victor announced, his voice thick with excitement. "Everyone who's anyone will be here!"

I'd been up since dawn, cleaning glasses and preparing trays. Now I stood at the edge of the chaos, a tower of crystal balanced in my hands.

"Move," Victor hissed, shoving me forward into the crowd.

The nobles parted reluctantly, their expensive fabrics brushing against my bare arms. Someone tripped me—deliberately—and I stumbled, catching myself before the glasses could fall.

"Clumsy bitch," a woman muttered.

"Watch where you're going," a man growled, shoving me sideways.

I righted myself, muscles straining under the weight of the tray. Sweat trickled down my spine as I navigated through the hostile crowd.

Royal stood at the center of it all, Maren clinging to his arm like she belonged there. When he saw me struggling, he smiled.

"Lina!" he called out, his voice carrying over the music. "Come pour for the guests of honor!"

More laughter. More hands reaching out to "accidentally" knock against my tray.

I stepped forward, one foot in front of the other, my arms burning with the effort of holding the heavy crystal steady.

Royal's eyes followed me, waiting for me to break.

I wouldn't give him that satisfaction.

Not yet.