Everyone in the social circle of Kingsford said I was nothing more than a lapdog raised by Charles Mankin.

I was always at his beck and call. I did every filthy, ludicrous thing for him under the sun.

When he street raced, I rode shotgun.

When he drank himself senseless, I made him hangover soup.

When he chased girls, I prepared protection for them.

Over time, everyone knew: Charles had a dog who never ran, never bit back, no matter how hard he kicked.

They all said I must be madly in love with him.

Even Charles started to believe it.

So he pushed further, more freely, more cruelly, crossing lines as if they never existed.

Then came my twenty-fifth birthday. He, in a rare stroke of mercy, said he'd celebrate it with me.

But instead, what he got was the news that I was leaving the country.

He went berserk, charging through the airport like a man possessed.

I peeled his fingers off my wrist one by one, smiling like I'd never been happier.

"Don't be stupid," I told him, still smiling. "That was never love."

That night, Charles smashed apart his family home like a rabid dog.

I was getting an IV drip at the hospital when Charles Mankin's text came in.

I had acute gastroenteritis, courtesy of his jealous little girlfriend from last night at the Hedo Lounge, who got me drunk out of spite.

"Rhyn wants ice cream from H.J. Desserts. Bring it to Hedo, Room 1808."

His voice on the call that followed was lazy, bored, trailing the sharp laughter of a girl in the background.

"I'm sick. On an IV," I said.

"If you're not dead, then get it done. Mindy, I'm saying this once—if I don't see you today, don't bother showing up again."

He hung up.

Just before the call cut, I caught someone on his end giggling, "Lucky Charles. I wish I had a dog that obedient."

I stared at my phone for a moment. The date blinked back at me from the screen. I sighed, looked up at the IV bag that had just been hooked above me, and then, in the nurse's startled gasp, yanked the needle out.

Before she could stop me, I'd slipped out of the hospital, flagged down the first cab I saw, and headed straight across town to H.J. Desserts—ten miles out, easy.

Charles had a gift for cruelty.

H.J. sat on one end of the city grid. Hedo was on the opposite end.

In the dead of winter, ice cream? I said a silent prayer for Rhyn not to catch a cold.

No one stopped me when I stepped into Hedo, dessert bag in hand. They all knew who I was by now.

Not that I liked what they called me.

Charles's lapdog.

I took the elevator up. Just as I pushed the door open a crack, I heard his voice from inside. "Mindy? She'll do whatever I tell her."

His tone was dry and distant, utterly devoid of emotion.

"Obedient as a dog. If it were you, would you throw something like that away?"

Laughter rippled through the room—those same people who'd mocked me at countless gatherings, now falling into easy agreement.

"Honestly, I'd keep a dog that loyal too."

I stood there, unmoving.

The conversation went on.

"Charles, aren't you afraid you'll push too far and she'll bolt one day?"

He chuckled, leaned in and pinched the cheek of the girl beside him. His voice dropped to something low and flirtatious.

"Dogs are loyal to the end."

More laughter.

"That said, Mindy's face is a prize. Body too. You've tasted her yet?" someone asked.

"Too dirty," Charles said casually, lighting a cigarette. "Would you screw a dog?"

And they all burst out laughing again.

It was in the middle of that laughter that I walked in, smiling as I met Charles's eyes.

The girl in Charles's arms was young.

Still a college student, most likely.

She had those wide, innocent eyes that blinked at me like she hadn't figured out yet how the world worked. Prettier than the one who'd poured drinks down my throat the night before, or at least a little gentler, I thought absently.

But I was wrong.

When she took the bag of ice cream from my outstretched hand, she gave a delicate little shiver. Her hand "slipped." The ice cream splattered onto her thighs with all the predictability of a stage cue.

"Oh no!"

She shot up from the sofa like a startled rabbit. The ice cream bucket tipped with her, crashing downward and soaking me in cold.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to! It's just—it's so cold, and I know you didn't do it on purpose either, I'm totally fine—really."

Her eyes, big and glossy, teetered on the edge of tears.

"Please don't blame her, Charles," she added sweetly. "It's my fault, not hers."

By the time she finished talking, there wasn't a word left for me to say.

I just stood there, drenched in melted ice cream. Half of me mourned the ruined fabric. The other half thought—she didn't need to go this far. Charles would've found a reason to punish me anyway.

After all, I'd smiled at the door just now.

He couldn't stand to see me smile.

And sure enough, the next second—

Charles shot to his feet, kicking the glass coffee table with a sudden fury. It skidded across the floor, smacking into my legs.

I stumbled and fell hard. And even as pain shot through my knee, all I could think was: Good. Let this be the last time.

"Mindy! You ungrateful wretch, you did that on purpose, didn't you?!"

He stormed forward and yanked me up from the ground like I weighed nothing.

The force of it crushed my breath. My face flushed crimson from the pressure.

"Say something. Cat got your tongue? What were you smiling at, huh? Who told you you could smile?"

The others in the room—his friends, his girls, his entourage—went still. Most of them had never seen this version of Charles. The kind with his claws out. The kind that didn't bother pretending.

No one made a sound.

"S...sorry," I choked out, barely able to breathe.

I didn't bother to explain. He wouldn't have listened. He never did.

"Go apologize to Rhyn," he barked. "Grovel at her feet. Say it like you mean it. Or you can pack up your shit and get the hell out of my house for good!"

My fever had blurred everything by now. The air felt heavy and unreal.

But that last sentence cut through it all.

Like music.

I steadied myself. Pulled against the grip he had on my shirt.

He thought I was heading toward the girl, so he let go easily.

"Alright," I said, smiling at him. "Then goodbye, Charles."

And with that, I turned, straightened my back, and walked out of Room 1808, without once looking back.

Behind me, his voice rose in a final roar, the sound of it muffled and buried the moment the door clicked shut.

"Mindy! You'd better not regret this!"

When I stepped out through the gates of Hedo Lounge, my body was shaking uncontrollably. Fever rippled through my limbs like silent static.

My steps were unsteady, each footfall a gamble. I could barely see the road ahead, and before I could register what was happening, I stumbled headfirst into someone's chest.

A clean, sharp scent filled my nose—disinfectant. It was clinical, cold, but oddly grounding. It sobered me up in an instant.

I mumbled an apology, trying to pull away from the man's trench coat, my eyes dropping to his wrist. The watch he wore looked oddly familiar. A rare edition, limited worldwide. Even Charles couldn't get his hands on one.

"Sorry. I'm so sorry," I said again.

I knew who he was. I didn't look up. Didn't need to.

"Your hand is bleeding," he said, his voice low, textured with something like exhaustion.

"It's nothing."

I turned to leave. I didn't want to linger.

Anyone connected to Charles—I wanted no part of them.

But just as I stepped down the first stair, I was lifted off the ground, arms suddenly cinched around my waist from behind.

I gasped.

Our eyes met.

Tyler Ford's face was right there—elegant, distant, and cold as ever. Half a foot away.

His breath mingled with mine, warm and close, as if the air between us had shrunk to a single tight thread. I could almost hear the frantic beat of his heart.

"As a doctor," he said, voice even but with an edge beneath it, "I can't just watch someone sick and do nothing."

I gave a short, bitter laugh.

"Strange. You never seemed so compassionate before. I remember the last time, when Charles made me jump into the pool to fetch that necklace, you just stood at the edge and watched. Not a word. Not a flicker of concern."

His eyes cooled.

"Mindy, that time you deserved it. You were willing. You made that choice. Who could possibly save someone who doesn't want saving?"

His voice hardened, but his steps didn't falter.

Something in me flickered and went dim for a moment.

I didn't fully snap out of it until he placed me inside his car and the warm air from the vents began to thaw the chill from my bones.

"Where are you taking me?" I asked.

No answer. He started the car, silent and focused.

"You're not going back in? Won't they be looking for you?"

I couldn't stop talking. The fever blurred my brain, but my tongue kept moving, unmoored and restless.

Tyler glanced at me like he was looking at a particularly slow-witted patient.

"If you hadn't pulled your IV and run out of the hospital," he said, "I wouldn't be here tonight in the first place."

I didn't understand what he meant.

My head felt like it was about to crack open.

And then—nothing.

The last thing I remembered was sinking into something soft and warm, like falling through a cotton cloud.

When I woke up, I was in a strange bed. No one else was in the room. I was fully dressed.

On the nightstand, beneath a thermos, was a small note.

I picked it up.

The handwriting was confident and bold, sweeping across the page.

"I've got surgery today. Drink the medicine in the thermos. There's porridge in the kitchen. Heat it up yourself."

I stared at the note for a while, expressionless.

I couldn't figure out what Tyler was really trying to do.

If someone said he liked me, I wouldn't believe it for a second.

Everyone in the Kingsford circle knew he had someone else, a woman he'd loved quietly for years, someone he couldn't have.

And me?

I'd only known him for a year. We hadn't exchanged ten sentences in all that time.

Whatever his reason, it didn't matter.

I wouldn't have to care for much longer.

Just two more weeks.

Yesterday had been the final day of my agreement with the Mankin family.

I was free.