At Sullivan Group's annual banquet, a female university student approaches Peter Sullivan and offers herself to him.

The usually cold and distant Peter suddenly freezes because this young woman looks exactly like his deceased first love.

He can't help but tease, "You're asking to be my mistress in front of my wife. Are you so sure you won't be thrown out?"

The young lady lifts her chin, and her stubborn expression is identical to that of his lost love. "You two got married for business reasons and mutual benefits. Does she have any say over what you do? Peter, only you can save my mom. Will you do it or not?"

She's right. I'm just a pawn in a marriage of convenience. How could I possibly influence Peter's choices?

But then, I catch a glint of tenderness in his eyes that I've never seen before, and a self-deprecating smile forms on my lips.

Maybe, instead of clinging on and being thrown out like trash, it's better if I give up my place willingly.

The atmosphere in the private room fell into a strangely tense silence for a few seconds.

Just when everyone thought the young woman was about to be coldly turned away, Peter Sullivan chuckled lightly and pulled her into his arms in one swift movement.

He said with a smirk, "You're the first one bold enough to try this. What's your name?"

His low and dulcet whisper was seductive and intoxicating. Following his question, the atmosphere in the room became heated with sexual tension.

"I… I'm Sammy Evans," replied the young woman shyly as she sat on Peter's lap.

Then, she turned around to flash me a provocative smile.

My expression stiffened. I tried to smile, but I failed spectacularly, and it faded into a grimace.

"Sammy, huh?" I murmured her name under my breath with trembling lips.

Sammy was Samantha Hartley's nickname.

Samantha had been Peter's first love, who had unfortunately passed away at a young age.

This was such a fitting coincidence. No wonder the moment she walked in, I felt like I had no chance of even being a match for her.

Around me, everyone exchanged glances. The gazes that fell on me were uncertain and somewhat tense. But I could feel the gloating amusement they were withholding as they watched the scene unfurl.

"You've already got her in your arms, Mr. Sullivan. The vibe's just right, so how about a kiss for the crowd?"

"Exactly! Don't just let her sit there. Give us a little mouth-to-mouth action and pour her a drink!"

For once, Peter ignored the crude jeers of his friends. His hand gripped her waist tightly and pulled her closer to him in a protective way.

Then, he downed the glass of liquor offered to him effortlessly before countering, "She's new to places like this. Don't scare her."

"Aww! You're already getting protective of her. Mr. Sullivan, this public display of affection is killing me!"

"Shh, keep it down. Can't you see that Mrs. Sullivan is still sitting there?"

Once again, all eyes turned to me. I lowered my head, pretending nothing was happening around me. I tried to minimize my presence as much as possible.

Peter shot me a cool and indifferent glance. "Stop looking at her. She's no different from a maid in our household. She has no say over what I want to do."

My fingers tightened around the hem of my dress. I felt a bitter lump in my throat, but I didn't dare say a word.

So it turned out that to Peter, I was nothing more than a maid.

What more could I say?

Some people simply didn't need to do anything at all to get everything I once longed for.

On the other hand, even after I drank to the point of suffering gastrointestinal bleeding on behalf of him, and landed in the hospital for a gastric lavage, all I got in return was three words. "We're even now."

Pushing those thoughts aside, I stood up abruptly and walked toward Peter.

Sammy's eyes widened like a frightened deer. She looked panicked, as if I were about to hurt her.

Peter's expression soured as he glared at me. "What are you up to now?"

I didn't utter a word in response and tried hard to control the slight tremor coursing through my body. In the next moment, I took off the engagement ring I had once treasured more than anything and slid it onto Sammy's finger.

All I had to say was, "Congratulations on finding Sammy again. I'm just returning what doesn't belong to me anymore."

Peter tore off the ring I once risked my life to hold onto without hesitating and tossed it into a trash bin cruelly.

He looked at me and said with disdain, "Sammy doesn't need your leftovers. Stop pretending to be so generous, Riley Iverson. This fake act of yours disgusts me."

I fled the room like I was running for my life. If I had stayed even a moment longer, I knew I wouldn't be able to stop myself from regretting everything.

I locked myself in a bathroom stall and cried until I felt light-headed. My stomach churned violently as the acid rose.

I cursed at myself in a fit of despair. "Riley, how could you be this pathetic? How could you throw yourself away like this for a man?"

Was I stupid and beyond reason?

No. The true reason was that I loved Peter. I loved him with all my heart.

I heard the sounds of footsteps outside the stall. So, I clamped a hand over my mouth, terrified someone would hear how miserable I was.

"Did you see Riley's face just now? God, it was hilarious. I've been waiting for this day forever."

"I know, right? She thought she could rise in social ranks after marrying Peter, but she only managed to do it by taking someone else's rightful place."

"Ugh, I heard she snuck into Mr. Sullivan's bed right after Sammy died. Finally, someone put her in her place. This is so satisfying!"

I froze upon hearing their voices.

They were Peter's so-called "friends," and his elder sister, Penelope Sullivan.

Each word they uttered stabbed straight into my heart. I bit down on my fingers as the bitter taste of bile rose from within.

In that moment, I realized something awfully gut-wrenching. The people I thought were my friends and the family I believed I had never respected me. They never even liked me.

And Peter, the man I sacrificed everything for, had never once stood up for me. Not even once.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. But in the narrow washroom stall, those faint vibrations were inexplicably amplified.

"Who's in there?"

My heart skipped. I didn't dare move.

The women outside didn't give me a chance to hide.

Penelope began kicking the door to my stall while shouting at the top of her lungs, "Who said you could hide in there and eavesdrop on our conversation? Get out! I'm the heiress of the Sullivan Group! Get on my wrong side, and I'll make you wish you were dead. Come out now!"

I pressed my hands against the rattling lock with all my strength. However, the relentless and forceful pounding ultimately caused the lock to give way, and there was nothing I could do about it.

The door burst open.

Penelope and her posse stared down at me, huddled on the floor. They did not look the least bit sorry for talking badly about me behind my back. On the contrary, their faces lit up with amusement when they realized that it was me.

With a wicked grin, Penelope yanked my hair and dragged me out of the stall.

She mocked, "Well, look who it is. The lady of the house, sobbing in a bathroom stall. Want us to comfort you, sweetheart?"

They then burst into cruel laughter.

I covered my ears, curling up in shame. But my pathetic reaction only made Penelope laugh harder.

She grabbed my phone and gave my cheek a few taunting pats. "Quit the act. No one will protect you now. That little pitiful act of yours is useless."

I lunged for my phone, but two of the other women held me down.

Penelope looked at me like I was some cheap toy she'd grown bored of.

She sneered, "What goes around comes around, Riley. You need to pay back what you're due. If you know what's good for you, leave the Sullivan Estate on your own. Do that, and I may let you suffer an end that's not too terrible."

I was the daughter my parents sold off.

Three million dollars was nothing for the Sullivans. But with that amount, they bought my chastity and the last shred of my dignity.

From that moment on, I became the disgrace loathed by all. Everyone said I was a festering sore stuck to Peter's otherwise stellar resume. They said I was the one stain that marred his reputation and embarrassed him.

I stumbled out of the hotel in a daze. As I made my way around the building, passersby turned to look at me with eyes full of disdain.

From the glass window, I saw my reflection. I was soaked in filth and my clothes were ragged, like a beggar's. I looked completely out of place against the glittering luxury of the hotel behind me.

By the time I made it back home, it was well past midnight.

No matter how many times I punched in the code at the door, I couldn't get it. Peter always changed the passcode whenever he brought a new woman home for the night.

After the umpteenth failed attempt, something in me snapped.

I started pounding on the door and shouting, "Peter Sullivan! Open the door!"

Maybe someone inside finally got tired of the noise. The door swung open at last.

Peter stood there, shirtless, with annoyance written all over his face. When he saw the wreck I had become, the disgust in his eyes was blatant.

"Riley, you know the rules. If you keep pulling stunts like this, next time it won't be as simple as locking you out," he sneered.

He was about to slam the door shut again, but I wedged my hand in the gap.

The door crushed my fingers hard. The pain was excruciating, but I didn't cry out.

I just used what little strength I had left and begged, "Let me in."

Maybe, just maybe, he felt a flicker of pity seeing me in such a pathetic state. His brows softened for a second, but then a soft voice came from the bedroom behind him.

"Peter, what's going on?"

That tone… It was almost identical to the way Samantha used to speak.

No wonder Peter let her do whatever she pleased.

I let out a bitter laugh. I was painfully aware of how pitiful and how laughably broken I looked at that moment.

Quietly, I said, "Just let me in to grab my things. I won't come back again."

My fingers were already turning purple and swelling at an alarming rate. But I still held on to the edge of the door, refusing to let go.

Sammy came running out to see what was taking Peter so long.

The moment she laid eyes on me, she recoiled in shock. "Peter, what's a beggar doing outside? Send her away right now! Who knows what kind of diseases she may be carrying? Their lot is so filthy!"

Peter quickly wrapped his arms around her tenderly and protectively. "Don't be scared, Sammy. I'm here. I won't let some filthy tramp get near you. I'll call security right now."

I took in their lovey-dovey act in a daze. It all felt too surreal for me.

Because once upon a time, Peter had held me just like that and promised to protect me.

I wasn't ready to give up completely just yet.

So, I asked him one last question. "If I died, would that make you happy?"

Before he could answer, Sammy responded with a scoff, "Wow, what a delusional freak. What does your death have to do with Peter? Honestly, with how disgusting you are, it doesn't matter when you die. No one would care."

I never got an answer from Peter. All I got were Sammy's insults and the arrival of the residential security guards.

"Where'd this beggar come from? Do you even know whose house this is?"

They moved closer to drag me out.

"Wait." Peter suddenly stopped them. "There's some trash in my room. Take it out with her, would you? That way, she won't keep bothering me."

I had looked back at him with eyes full of desperate hope. But in the end, I was tossed out at the entrance like garbage. Along with me went a few suitcases and a divorce agreement that had been drafted long ago.

Before I was dragged away, Peter had said, "Sign it. Once you're done, have someone drop it at my office. Don't show your face in front of me again. You're filthy."