The broken springs of the lobby sofa pressed painfully into Adriane's thighs.

She sat in the dim, dirty entrance of her cheap apartment building in Brooklyn. Her phone was gripped tightly in her sweaty palm. She was waiting for Deandre to call her back about the funds.

Outside, the quiet purr of a luxury engine cut through the street noise. A black Maybach pulled up to the curb.

Kassidy stepped out. She wore limited-edition red-bottom heels that clicked sharply against the cracked pavement. She walked into the lobby alone.

Kassidy's eyes darted around the room. She looked up at the corner of the ceiling. The red light on the security camera was off. It was broken. Perfect.

She walked straight to Adriane and threw a heavy manila envelope onto her lap.

The smack of the envelope hitting her legs made Adriane jump. She fumbled with her hands, feeling the rough paper.

"Chase stayed up all night finalizing these," Kassidy said. Her voice dripped with arrogance. "He waived the thirty-day waiting period. The check is inside. He just wants you gone."

Adriane's heart skipped a beat. She quickly tore open the envelope. Her fingers brushed against thick legal paper and a stiff piece of cardstock that felt like a check.

She didn't know it, but the papers were entirely forged. The check was fake. Kassidy had printed them herself to ensure Adriane would leave with nothing.

Kassidy leaned down. Her lips brushed close to Adriane's ear.

"Look at you," Kassidy hissed, her voice sounding like a snake sliding over gravel. "Selling your dignity for a piece of paper. You are nothing but a beggar."

Adriane's hands shook violently. She gripped the fake papers so hard they crumpled. The humiliation burned her chest like acid.

"At least my pain is real. Everything about you feels borrowed, Kassidy. You're just a perfect, hollow copy."

The words hit Kassidy's deepest, darkest secret. The "life-saving" debt Chase owed her was stolen from Adriane.

A flash of pure, murderous rage crossed Kassidy's face.

Just then, the sound of another car engine approached the building. It was Chase. Kassidy had texted him five minutes prior: Chase, I'm a little scared to give Adriane the papers alone, she seems unstable. Please hurry. Her timing was flawless.

Kassidy's eyes widened in calculated brilliance.

She lunged forward. She grabbed Adriane's right hand-the hand holding the papers-with a vice-like grip.

"What are you doing?!" Adriane panicked, trying to pull her arm back.

The glass doors of the lobby pushed open. Chase's tall, imposing figure stepped inside.

In the exact fraction of a second that Chase's eyes landed on them, Kassidy used Adriane's hand to slap herself violently across the face.

Smack.

The sharp sound of the slap echoed loudly in the empty lobby. A bright red handprint instantly appeared on Kassidy's cheek.

Kassidy let go of Adriane and threw herself onto the dirty floor, bursting into loud, pathetic sobs.

Adriane's hand hung frozen in the air. Her fingers tingled from the impact. Her blood turned to ice.

A vicious roar ripped from Chase's throat.

He charged forward. He grabbed Adriane by the shoulders and shoved her violently backward.

Adriane's back slammed into the peeling plaster wall. The fake documents scattered across the dirty floor.

Chase dropped to his knees. He gently pulled Kassidy into his chest. He looked at the red mark on her face. When he turned his head to look at Adriane, his eyes burned with a hatred so intense it made Adriane stop breathing.

"I just... I just came to give her the check," Kassidy cried into his shirt, her voice trembling perfectly. "And she attacked me."

Chase stood up, shielding Kassidy behind him. He looked at Adriane as if she were a piece of rotting garbage.

"You are a monster," Chase snarled, his voice vibrating with rage. "You get nothing. And tomorrow, my lawyers will serve you with a restraining order."

He wrapped his arm around Kassidy and walked out the door. The Maybach sped away.

Adriane slid down the wall until her knees hit the floor. She blindly swept her hands over the dirty tiles, gathering the scattered, useless papers, completely unaware that she had just fallen into a legal trap that would ruin her life.

The glass door of the Brooklyn studio creaked loudly as Adriane pushed it open.

The air inside was thick with the smell of stale coffee and cheap cigarettes. Her phone buzzed in her pocket. It was a text from Deandre. His family had been monitoring his accounts closely because they fiercely opposed his association with the Owens siblings. The sudden attempt to withdraw such a massive amount triggered an immediate freeze by his controlling parents. It would take three days to clear.

Barry had less than twenty hours left. Adriane was suffocating in pure panic.

Then, her phone had rung. A woman named Brandi, claiming to be a casting assistant for an independent film, offered her an audition. The role required a real visually impaired actress. The upfront pay was exactly two hundred thousand dollars.

It sounded too good to be true, but Adriane was drowning. She grabbed the lifeline.

"Adriane! So glad you made it," Brandi's overly enthusiastic voice rang out.

Brandi grabbed Adriane's arm and guided her to the center of the room. A massive, burning hot spotlight clicked on, hitting Adriane directly in the face. Even though she couldn't see the light, the intense heat made her skin prickle with sweat.

Brandi shoved a single page of braille script into Adriane's hands.

"The scene is simple," Brandi instructed. "You have just been abandoned by the man you love. Show me pure despair."

The prompt was a knife straight to Adriane's heart.

Adriane stood under the burning light. She didn't read the script. Her mind instantly flashed to Chase's cold eyes, his violent shove, and his retreating footsteps.

Her lips began to tremble. She didn't make a sound, but two thick tears rolled out of her empty, unseeing eyes, tracking slowly down her cheeks. The absolute, shattering heartbreak radiating from her body was suffocating.

Behind a two-way mirror in the dark control room, Kassidy watched. Even she held her breath for a second.

Brandi started clapping loudly, breaking the silence.

"Brilliant! Absolutely genius!" Brandi cheered. "The director loves it. We are signing you right now."

Adriane's entire body shook. "The... the advance payment? Can I get it today?"

"Right this second," Brandi promised. She slid a thick stack of contract papers onto a table and guided Adriane's hands to it.

"I need to scan it with my phone reader," Adriane said, her voice tight with caution.

"Of course," Brandi smiled. She handed Adriane a standard, clean acting contract.

Adriane held her phone over the pages. The robotic voice read out standard union rules and payment terms. It sounded completely normal.

As Adriane listened to the first few pages, Brandi suddenly knocked a heavy metal pen cup off the edge of the desk. It crashed onto the hardwood floor, sending pens clattering noisily in every direction. "Oh, clumsy me! Don't mind that, keep listening, honey!" Brandi laughed loudly, her voice booming over the chaos. Under the cover of the racket, she swiftly slid the final signature page away. She replaced it with a different piece of paper. It was a contract for "High-End Escort Services."

Desperate for the money, Adriane lowered her phone. She let out a long breath, dropping her final defense.

Brandi pressed a pen into Adriane's hand and guided the tip to the dotted line.

Adriane swallowed hard and signed her name.

Brandi looked at the signature. A cruel, wicked smirk twisted her lips.

Brandi pulled the contract away and pressed a hard plastic keycard into Adriane's palm.

"Go to the boutique hotel in SOHO tonight for your wardrobe fitting," Brandi said. "Once you finish, the crypto transfer will hit your account instantly."

Adriane gripped the keycard. A cold shiver ran down her spine, but the thought of Barry's failing heart pushed the fear away. She bowed slightly in gratitude and walked out of the studio.

The moment the door closed, Kassidy stepped out from behind the mirror.

Brandi handed her the signed escort contract.

Kassidy stared at Adriane's signature. Her eyes gleamed with pure malice. Tonight, she was going to destroy Adriane Owens forever.

The heavy bass of club music vibrated through the floorboards of the boutique hotel in SOHO.

Adriane gripped her cane, stepping out of the elevator onto the top floor. The air was thick with a sweet, cloying incense that made her lungs feel heavy.

Brandi was waiting at the door of the penthouse suite. She grabbed Adriane's elbow and pulled her inside.

The music in the suite was deafening. It completely drowned out any noise from the hallway.

"Drink this, you look tense," Brandi shouted over the music, pressing a cold glass into Adriane's hand.

Adriane was exhausted and parched. Without thinking, she lifted the glass and took a large gulp. The icy club soda slid down her dry throat.

"I'll go get the costumes," Brandi said. She walked into the bedroom and quietly locked the door behind her.

Less than three minutes later, Adriane's stomach cramped.

A sudden, unnatural heat flared in her lower belly. Her heart rate spiked, hammering wildly against her ribs. The gray fog in her vision began to spin dizzily. Her arms and legs felt like they were turning to heavy lead.

Adriane dropped the glass. It shattered on the floor.

Panic seized her throat. The water. The water was spiked.

She tried to stand up, but her knees buckled. Her white cane slipped from her grasp, sinking silently into the thick carpet.

She fell to her hands and knees. She dragged herself toward the wall, her palms scraping against the rough wallpaper, leaving angry red marks on her skin.

Her breathing grew ragged. The drug was moving fast, melting her brain, replacing her fear with a terrifying, burning physical need.

She bit down hard on her own tongue. The sharp, metallic taste of blood flooded her mouth. The intense pain gave her exactly one second of clarity.

Her hand found the cold metal doorknob. She yanked it down and threw her body out into the hallway.

The blast of air conditioning in the corridor hit her burning skin, but it wasn't enough. The drug surged back stronger. She stumbled forward, dragging her hand along the wall, desperately searching for the elevator.

Three floors down, a private Wall Street mixer was in full swing.

Chase Barnett, disgusted by the fake smiles and cheap talk, stepped into the private VIP elevator. He pressed the button for the top floor, needing a moment of silence.

The elevator doors chimed and slid open. Chase stepped out. He reached up and yanked his silk tie loose.

He looked down the long, empty corridor.

His breath stopped.

At the far end of the hall, a woman was stumbling toward him. She was panting heavily. Her trench coat was pulled open, revealing the flushed, sweaty skin of her chest and neck.

It was Adriane.

Chase's pupils dilated. A sickening weight dropped into his stomach.

Adriane heard the heavy footsteps. Her drug-addled brain thought Brandi had come out to get her. She let out a whimpering cry of terror.

She tried to run, but her legs tangled together. She pitched forward, falling hard.

She didn't hit the floor.

She crashed into a wall of solid muscle. The scent of cold mint and expensive cigars wrapped around her.

Chase.

The drug completely destroyed her logic. His scent was the only safe thing she knew. She threw her burning arms around his waist, clinging to him like a drowning woman.

"Please," Adriane sobbed, her voice thick and slurred with desire. "Help me."

Chase stood frozen. He looked down at the woman in his arms. Her face was flushed dark red. Her eyes were glazed over. She was practically begging him to touch her.

At the end of the hallway, Brandi peeked around the corner. She held up an iPad, the red recording light blinking steadily. Phase one was complete.