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.

The crystal tower wobbled in my hands as I navigated through the crowd. Every step felt like walking through quicksand, my muscles burning from holding the heavy tray steady. Royal's eyes tracked my movement, that familiar smirk playing on his lips—waiting for me to fail.

"Careful now," Victor hissed beside me. "These glasses cost more than your life."

I focused on each step, ignoring the hostile stares and "accidental" bumps from the nobles surrounding us. Just a few more feet to Royal's table. Just a few more seconds of dignity.

Maren sat like a queen beside him, her custom gown shimmering under the chandelier light. The silk was a deep burgundy that caught every sparkle, making her look like she was draped in liquid rubies. I'd heard the dressmaker say it cost more than most people's homes.

I approached the table, balancing the tower of crystal with practiced precision. Royal held out his glass for a refill, his eyes never leaving mine.

"Careful, Lina," he said, loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. "These glasses are delicate."

Maren's lips curled into a smile that didn't reach her eyes. As I leaned forward to pour, she shifted suddenly in her chair, scooting backward with deliberate force.

My ankle twisted. The tower tilted.

Time slowed.

I lunged forward, desperately trying to steady the glasses. The edge of my tray caught the tablecloth, sending ripples across the white linen. And then—the worst possible outcome—the bottom of the tray brushed against Maren's exquisite gown.

The sound that escaped her lips was something between a shriek and a wail.

"You filthy river rat!" she screamed, leaping to her feet. "You've contaminated my dress! Do you know what this silk costs?"

The room fell silent. Every eye turned toward us.

"I'm sorry," I stammered, my voice barely audible. "It was an accident—"

"An accident?" Maren's voice rose higher, her face contorting with exaggerated disgust. "Look at this! Look what she's done!"

Royal stood slowly, his expression darkening with each passing second. The room seemed to shrink around us as his anger filled the space like smoke.

"Royal," Maren whimpered, clutching his arm. "She did it on purpose. She's always been jealous of me."

I took a step back, my heart hammering against my ribs. "No, I didn't—"

"Silence!" Royal's voice cut through the air like a whip.

Something dangerous flashed in his eyes—something I'd glimpsed before but never directed at me with such intensity. His hand moved to his side, where a ceremonial blade hung in an ornate sheath.

"Royal," I whispered, backing away. "Please—"

His hand shot out, gripping my hair with brutal force. He yanked me forward, dragging me to the center of the club floor. The crowd parted like water, forming a circle around us.

"Everyone sees what happens when my property doesn't know its place," Royal announced, his voice carrying to every corner of the room.

Kendra's voice cut through the murmurs. "Stop this! You can't—"

"Can't I?" Royal's laugh was cold and sharp. "Watch me."

He forced me to my knees, still gripping my hair. With his free hand, he drew the blade from its sheath. The metal gleamed wickedly in the chandelier light.

"Royal, don't!" Kendra screamed, trying to push through the crowd. Guards blocked her path.

"Please," I begged, tears blurring my vision. "Don't do this."

Maren stepped forward, her face twisted with satisfaction. "Teach her a lesson she'll never forget."

Royal's eyes met mine one last time. There was nothing there—no recognition, no mercy, no trace of the man who had once loved me by the river.

"Hold still," he said softly, almost tenderly.

The blade flashed in the light.

Pain exploded through my body—white-hot and all-consuming. I heard someone screaming and distantly realized it was me.

Blood sprayed across the polished floor, splattering across Maren's burgundy gown. She stepped back with a gasp of delight rather than horror.

My vision tunneled. The last thing I saw was my own arm—my left arm—lying on the floor in a spreading pool of crimson.

Then darkness claimed me, and I welcomed it.