The silence in the narrow corridor was heavy, broken only by Katherine's ragged breathing. Gus didn't move. He kept her pinned, his body a solid wall of heat and hostility.

He stared at her tear-streaked face. He watched a single tear track down her cheek and drip onto her collarbone. His jaw clenched. A muscle feathered in his cheek.

Slowly, deliberately, he removed one hand from the wall. He reached into the pocket of his dress pants and pulled out a slim, leather checkbook.

He slapped it against the wall beside her head. The sound cracked through the air like a gunshot.

Katherine flinched, her eyes widening in horror. She looked at the checkbook, then back at his face. "What is that?"

Gus used his teeth to pull the cap off a silver pen. He spat the cap into his hand. "Compensation."

"I don't understand."

"It's simple math, Kat." He used the nickname she hated, the one only he used when he wanted to be condescending. "Services rendered. How much is a night of pretending I'm him worth to you?"

Katherine felt the blood drain from her face. Her knees buckled, and she slid down the wall an inch before catching herself. "I don't want your money."

"Don't want money?" Gus let out a short, sharp laugh. "What do you want then? A ring? The Riddle name?"

"Stop it," she whispered. "Please."

"Stop pretending," he snapped. He pressed the tip of the pen to the paper. "Five thousand? Ten? How much does it cost to buy your silence?"

He didn't wait for an answer. He scribbled a number. The sound of the pen scratching against the paper was violent, aggressive. He ripped the check out. The tearing sound vibrated through Katherine's bones.

He grabbed her hand. His fingers were cold. He jammed the piece of paper into her palm and curled her fingers around it.

"Take it," he ordered.

Katherine opened her hand. The check fluttered to the dirty carpet of the service hallway.

Gus looked down at it. "Not enough? That's more than your father makes in a year."

Something inside Katherine snapped. The fear, the shame, the confusion-it all coalesced into a blinding, white-hot anger. She wasn't a whore. She wasn't a social climber. She was a girl who had made a mistake because she was in love.

She dropped to her knees.

Gus watched her, his lip curling. "Finally showing your true colors? Picking it up?"

Katherine grabbed the check. She stood up, her legs shaking but holding her weight. She looked him dead in the eye.

"You are disgusting," she said. Her voice was quiet, steady.

She tore the check in half. Then in half again.

The pieces fell like confetti between them.

Gus didn't blink. He stared at the torn paper on the floor. For a second, his mask slipped. His eyes widened, and there was a flicker of something that looked like... regret? Pain?

But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by that impregnable wall of ice.

He stepped back, smoothing the front of his shirt. He adjusted his cuff, regaining his composure, regaining his control.

"Very noble," he drawled. "I hope that nobility pays your tuition next semester."

He turned on his heel and walked away, down the dark corridor toward the exit.

"Last night wasn't a transaction!" Katherine screamed at his back. "I thought... I thought you cared!"

Gus stopped. He didn't turn around. His shoulders were rigid, the muscles of his back tense under the fine fabric of his shirt.

"Whatever you thought," he said, his voice low and final, "forget it. It never happened."

He pushed the door open. A blade of harsh daylight cut into the corridor, blinding Katherine for a moment. Then the door slammed shut.

Katherine slid down the wall until she hit the floor. She pulled the sheet tighter around herself, burying her face in her knees. Her hand found a piece of the torn check on the carpet. She clutched it until the sharp edge of the paper cut into her palm.

Katherine dried her face with the corner of the sheet. It smelled like him. She hated it.

She found her dress-a crumpled heap of blue chiffon near the door where Gus had dragged her in. She put it on with trembling hands, her fingers fumbling with the zipper. She didn't have her shoes. They were probably still in his bedroom.

She couldn't go back there.

She pushed open the heavy fire door at the end of the corridor.

The weather had turned. The sunny morning had collapsed into a violent summer storm. Rain lashed against the pavement, turning the gravel driveway of the estate into a river of mud.

Katherine stepped out. The water soaked her instantly. Her dress clung to her legs, heavy and cold. The gravel dug into the soles of her bare feet.

She started walking toward the main gate. She had no phone. No purse. Just herself and the humiliation burning under her skin.

A black Cadillac Escalade rolled down the driveway, its tires crunching on the stones. It slowed as it approached her.

Katherine stopped. Her heart leaped into her throat. Maybe... maybe he was coming back. Maybe he realized he had been cruel.

The tinted rear window rolled down halfway.

Gus sat in the back seat. He was wearing a suit jacket now, looking every inch the corporate heir. He held an unlit cigarette between his fingers.

He looked at her.

Rain dripped from Katherine's hair, running into her eyes, blurring her vision. She shivered, hugging herself.

Gus didn't say a word. He didn't offer a ride. He didn't offer an umbrella. He just looked at her with eyes that were completely dead.

Then, he made a small motion with his hand.

The window rolled up.

The Cadillac accelerated, spraying a wave of muddy water over her legs. Katherine stood there, watching the red taillights fade into the gray mist of the storm.

She looked down at her feet, bleeding slightly on the sharp rocks.

Never again, she thought. The vow was a cold, hard stone in her stomach. I will never let Agustus Riddle look at me like that again.

Four Years Later

The alarm clock screamed.

Katherine jolted upright, gasping for air. Her hand flew to her chest. Her heart was racing. For a second, she could still feel the cold rain on her skin, smell the exhaust of the Cadillac.

She blinked. The Hamptons estate dissolved.

She was in Los Angeles. West Hollywood.

The sunlight filtering through the cheap, bent plastic blinds was dusty and yellow. The room was stiflingly hot. The air conditioner was broken again.

She rubbed her face. It was just a dream. The same dream.

She swung her legs out of bed. The carpet here wasn't plush wool; it was thin, beige synthetic that smelled faintly of old dog.

Katherine walked to the mirror. The face staring back was older. The baby fat was gone from her cheeks, leaving her cheekbones sharper, her eyes hollower.

She wasn't the heiress-adjacent girl anymore. She was Katherine Woodward, a ghost haunting the edges of an industry that had once promised her everything. A star who had fallen, now working as a full-time barista to pay for the privilege of failure.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. She picked it up. An email from her agent.

Passed on the indie film role. The director felt your 'essence' was too tragic for the part.

Katherine let out a dry laugh. Tragic. She hadn't felt anything but tragic in four years.

She walked out into the living room. It was a war zone of clothes, makeup, and takeout boxes.

"You have that nightmare again?" Kylie asked, not looking up from her phone. "The one where you look like a drowned rat? So dreary."

Kylie Barker stood in the center of the room, holding up a lime green dress against her body. Kylie was everything Katherine wasn't-loud, vibrant, and relentlessly ambitious. She was an Instagram influencer with 90,000 followers and an ego to match.

"Does this make my ass look famous?" Kylie asked, twirling.

"It makes you look visible from space," Katherine muttered, opening the fridge. Empty. Just a jar of pickles and a bottle of vodka.

"Don't be a hater, Kat," Kylie chirped. "You need to get ready. Tonight is the night."

Katherine paused, a water bottle halfway to her lips. "Night for what?"

"Dinner! The roommate dinner? I've been talking about it all week." Kylie rolled her eyes. "My treat. I'm celebrating hitting 100k followers. Well, I'm at 99.8k, but I'm manifesting it."

"I can't," Katherine said. "I have to prep for a callback tomorrow. It's just an understudy role for an off-Broadway play, but it's something."

"Boring," Kylie sang. "Beth is coming. Trixie is coming. You are coming. You need to get out of this apartment. You smell like depression and old coffee beans."

Beth, their third roommate, poked her head out of her room. "Come on, Kat. Kylie says she's taking us to Catch. We'll never get in there otherwise."

Katherine looked at them. She looked at the stack of unpaid bills on the counter. She looked at the rejection email on her phone.

She was tired. She was so tired of the grind. Maybe one night of expensive food and pretending to be someone else wouldn't hurt.

"Fine," Katherine sighed. "I'll go."

She didn't know it then. She didn't know that saying "yes" was the mistake that would drag her back into hell.

"Do you have anything that isn't... sad?"

Kylie was rummaging through Katherine's closet, tossing clothes onto the bed with disdain. "Zara, Zara, H&M... God, Kat, do you shop exclusively at the clearance rack?"

"It's called a budget, Kylie," Katherine said, leaning against the doorframe. She felt a knot of anxiety tightening in her stomach. She hated dressing up. It felt like putting on a costume.

"Here." Kylie pulled out a simple black slip dress. It was old, from her life before, but the silk was real. "Wear this. And put on this lipstick. You look like a ghost."

She handed Katherine a tube of red lipstick. Katherine took it. The cool metal felt heavy in her hand.

"Hurry up," Trixie called from the living room. "The Uber is two minutes away."

They piled into the Uber XL. The air conditioning blasted, smelling of fake pine. Kylie sat in the middle, tapping furiously on her phone.

"Who helped you get the reservation?" Beth asked, leaning forward. "Catch is impossible on a Friday."

Kylie smirked, her eyes still glued to her screen. "A friend."

"What kind of friend?" Katherine asked. The knot in her stomach pulled tighter.

"A very influential friend," Kylie said vaguely. "You guys will see. He's meeting us there."

"He?" Beth raised an eyebrow. "Is this the mystery man you've been hinting at?"

Kylie giggled. "We're just... talking. But he's obsessed with me."

Katherine looked out the window. The palm trees of Santa Monica Boulevard blurred past. Los Angeles was a city of lies, and Kylie was fluent in the language.

They arrived at Catch LA. The entrance was a chaotic swarm of flashing lights. Paparazzi lined the velvet ropes, shouting names.

Kylie stepped out of the car and immediately struck a pose, hand on her hip, chin tilted. A few cameras flashed, but the photographers were looking past her, waiting for someone actually famous.

Kylie recovered quickly, tossing her hair. "Ugh, so intense tonight."

They were ushered past the bouncer and up the stairs. The restaurant was a lush, open-air garden, teeming with beautiful people. The noise was deafening-laughter, clinking glasses, the thrum of bass.

"Table for Barker," Kylie told the hostess.

They were led to a prime table near the edge of the terrace. Katherine sat down, trying to make herself small. She felt out of place in her old dress and bright lipstick.

"I'm ordering the seafood tower," Kylie announced, not looking at the menu. "And shots."

Katherine checked the prices. A cocktail cost as much as her phone bill. She ordered water.

"Oh my god," Kylie gasped. Her face lit up. She stood up, waving her hand frantically. "Over here!"

Katherine turned her head.

The air left her lungs.

Walking through the entrance, cutting through the crowd like a shark through water, was a man in a black t-shirt and dark jeans. He didn't look at the cameras. He didn't look at the hostess. He walked with an arrogant, lethal grace that Katherine would know anywhere.

It was Gus.

He was taller than she remembered. His shoulders were broader. His face had lost the last traces of boyishness, replaced by hard angles and a five o'clock shadow that made him look dangerous.

Katherine's hand flew to her mouth. She wanted to slide under the table. She wanted to run.

But it was too late.

Gus's eyes scanned the room. They swept over the crowd, bored and detached.

Then they landed on their table.

They landed on her.

For a tenth of a second, he stopped. His eyes widened imperceptibly. The boredom vanished, replaced by a flash of recognition so sharp it felt like a knife.

Then, just as quickly, the wall came down. His expression went blank. Cold.

Kylie practically threw herself at him as he approached. She wrapped her arms around his neck. "Gus! You made it!"

Gus didn't hug her back. He stood there, stiff, his hands in his pockets. But he didn't push her away.

"Kylie," he said. His voice was deeper. Rougher. It sent a shiver down Katherine's spine that had nothing to do with fear.

"Girls, this is Gus," Kylie beamed, clinging to his arm like a trophy. "The friend I told you about."

Katherine couldn't breathe. The man who had destroyed her, the man she had spent four years hiding from, was standing right there. And he was Kylie's "friend."