My parents died in a plane crash. The company went bankrupt. My older brother lost his mind from the shock.

To keep from losing my last family member, I worked myself half to death.

Three years.

I was drugged and held captive by my brother's sworn enemy. Passed around like a toy by the men Hudson once called friends. Used in ways I couldn't speak of.

None of it mattered.

As long as they paid. As long as Hudson could get treatment. I would have crawled on all fours and barked if that's what it took.

But that afternoon, when I finished my shift and headed to visit my brother, I stopped outside a Michelin-starred restaurant.

Through the window, I saw Hudson Sanchez sitting at a table.

With our parents.

The ones who died in the crash.

"Hudson, this whole charade—faking your death, pretending to be insane—it's gone on long enough." My mother's voice drifted through the glass. "Your sister's wasted away to nothing. This punishment game needs to end."

Hudson smiled.

"She deserves it. She's the one who kept insisting Eliana should go back to her real family. Eliana got so depressed she nearly killed herself."

"But fine—three years is enough. On Harper's birthday, you two come back. Tell her the crash caused amnesia, that Eliana found you and brought you home. I'll 'recover' my sanity." He laughed softly. "She'll be so grateful she'll grovel at Eliana's feet. And our family will be whole again."

My father frowned. "There are holes in that story."

"Harper isn't exactly bright." Hudson waved a dismissive hand. "She never even went to school until she was eighteen. Fooling her won't be hard."

——

I stood frozen on the sidewalk.

Something cracked open in my chest—a hollow space filling with slow, thick drops of blood.

I wanted to cry. But my body was too exhausted to produce tears.

Inside, the three of them continued their meal. Laughing. Planning.

Then a new voice cut through.

"Well, well. Long time no see, Mr. and Mrs. Sanchez. Tired of playing dead already?"

Every muscle in my body locked.

I knew that voice.

Noah Delgado.

My brother's mortal enemy. The man who'd had me drugged, locked in a basement, and broken over three days and nights.

"Poor Harper Sanchez." Noah's tone dripped with mock sympathy. "Comes home after eighteen years, doesn't even get a week of peace before she's out there hustling to keep the family afloat. Selling herself like a dog for scraps. She should've stayed lost."

Hudson's expression darkened. "Don't be dramatic. She's doing odd jobs. Part-time work. Hardly 'selling herself.'"

Noah's smile sharpened.

"Oh, of course. My mistake."

He leaned back.

"I was thinking of someone else. There was this girl—her family went under, and I found her so... pitiful. Fed her a little something to take the edge off. We spent a few very affectionate days together."

His eyes glittered.

"And when she finally woke up? No tears. No screaming. She just asked how much."

He was talking about me.

After Hudson's "accident," Noah had been the first to strike.

I'd just finished paying Hudson's hospital fees and hiring a caregiver when Noah's men grabbed me off the street.

They threw me in a basement. Stripped me bare.

Noah drugged me. Forced himself on me. Filmed every moment.

"Your brother thinks he's untouchable, doesn't he?" He'd whispered it against my ear while I lay pinned beneath him. "Let's see how untouchable he feels watching his baby sister scream under me."

I bit through my own tongue to keep from making a sound. I wouldn't give him ammunition to use against Hudson.

When silence didn't break me, he found other methods.

By the time he was done, there wasn't an inch of skin below my neck that wasn't bruised, burned, or bleeding.

Now, in the restaurant, my brother's face had gone cold.

"She only wanted money?" Hudson's lip curled. "How is that different from whoring herself out? Disgusting."

He picked up his wine glass.

"Women like that are a dime a dozen. God knows what diseases she's carrying." His gaze slid to Noah with thinly veiled contempt. "But I suppose you've never been picky about what you put in your mouth."

"Just a reminder, Mr. Delgado. You're young, but carrying on like this... be careful. You might catch something nasty."

Noah's smile didn't reach his eyes. "You're right. I really don't take care of myself, do I?"

His gaze drifted past the decorative ficus and landed squarely on me.

My father sensed the tension. He knew Noah and my mother were like oil and water, so he quickly stepped in.

"It's normal for young men to have their fun. Just don't ruin your health over it," Edward said with a chuckle. "If you like the girl that much, just keep her as a mistress. A caged bird is clean, safe, and available whenever you want."

Noah's smile deepened. He nodded slowly.

"Mrs. Sanchez is right. I really should keep her locked by my side."

My heart slammed against my ribs. The old wounds began to throb.

Seeing the worry on Mom's face, my brother Hudson stepped in with his own twisted assurances.

"Mom, relax. My plan is foolproof. I've even got my buddies looking after Harper." He swirled his wine, looking self-satisfied. "She wouldn't sell her body for profit."

Hudson pulled out his phone and dialed. Speaker on.

"Lucas? It's Hudson. I told you to take good care of my sister. You haven't messed up, have you?"

Lucas Simmons's voice came through, strained. "Taking care of Harper? Oh, I've been taking very good care of her. Every time she receives my... assistance, she's extremely grateful." He chuckled darkly. "Your sister is incredibly obedient. She's willing to do anything for you."

Hudson looked smug. "Of course she is. A kid who grew up without love—throw her a few crumbs of attention, and she'll give you everything."

He leaned back. "Let her suffer a bit more, then we'll stop. After all, she is my biological sister."

"You... you still treat her as a sister?" Lucas slipped up, incredulous. He quickly recovered. "Right, right. Whatever Mr. Sanchez says."

Hudson made two more calls. Same assurances. He hung up, satisfied, believing his cruel game was under control.

I stood in the shadows and laughed. Silent. Broken.

Is Hudson a complete moron?

When Noah first started tormenting me, I'd gone to Hudson's friends for protection. Instead, they cornered me. Used a recording to blackmail me. Forced me to become their plaything.

They'd never had the chance to break someone of their own standing. I was a novelty. A fallen heiress.

Every time they finished, they threw money at me like I was a common whore. I was living worse than death, surviving only for my "sick" brother.

The punchline? All of this because Hudson wanted to punish me for "stealing" the identity of his beloved Eliana.

Nausea roiled in my stomach. I turned to leave.

Crash.

A force slammed into me from behind. My forehead cracked against the marble, sparking stars in my vision.

"Ow! My arm!"

Eliana clutched her elbow, screaming. While the others rushed over, she lifted her foot. Her stiletto heel came down hard on my hand.

She ground it in, twisting.

Pain exploded up my arm. Blood pooled on the white tiles.

Before I could move, a heavy boot slammed into my chest.

Hudson.

He kicked me backward, face twisted in disgust. He didn't recognize me—only saw a clumsy servant who'd hurt his precious Eliana.

"How does a Michelin-starred restaurant let trash like this inside?" he roared. "This filthy lowlife got my sister's shoes dirty!"

The manager came running, bowing and scraping, apologizing profusely for my existence.

"My deepest apologies, Sir, Miss. I'll have this trash removed immediately," the manager stammered, bowing low. "Your meal is on the house. Please, let me know if there's anything else I can do."

Eliana didn't look at him. Her gaze locked onto mine, malicious excitement lighting her eyes.

"We don't need your charity," she sneered. "But since this filth ruined my shoes, she can clean them. On her knees. With her tongue."

The manager stiffened but didn't dare object.

Noah stepped forward—to onlookers, a concerned gentleman intervening in a dispute. I knew the monster beneath the mask.

"Miss Sanchez is right," he said, smooth as velvet. "A mess requires proper cleanup."

He grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked, forcing my head down to Eliana's heels. Pain radiated across my scalp as he bent close, breath hot against my ear.

"Refuse," he whispered, "and I'll drag you to the basement and train you right here in front of everyone."

Trembling, I leaned forward and opened my mouth.

Metallic tang of blood and dirt coated my tongue.

Eliana watched with sadistic glee. When the heel was clean enough, she pulled away as if granting mercy, then threw herself into her parents' arms.

"Daddy, Mommy, I missed you so much!" Her voice transformed into a sweet, spoiled whine. "Studying abroad was exhausting. Promise you'll stay home and pamper me."

Tears blurred my vision.

Hudson told me she was suffering, I thought. Working herself to the bone to pay off the family's debts.

My adoptive parents called me a curse. A jinx who destroyed everything. The Sanchez family's ruin was my fault. I had to work harder. Make more money. Bring Eliana back so my brother could see our home whole again—even if I had to sell every part of myself.

Security dragged me out. Passersby stared—some with disgust, others with pity. A few whispered for the guards to be gentle, but no one stepped in.

Noah followed at a leisurely pace. The moment we cleared the crowd, the gentleman act dropped. He shoved me into his car.

Back in that suffocating basement, he forced my head under the faucet, scrubbing blood from my mouth with rough strokes.

"I love breaking things that try so hard to survive," he sneered, water dripping from his chin. "Your brother, your parents—they play you for a fool, and you thank them. You bleed yourself dry for a lie." He met my eyes in the mirror. "Is the game fun, Harper?"

He didn't wait for an answer.

After a night of torment, he dressed me like a doll and dumped me at the psychiatric hospital.

The guard frowned as I approached. "Harper, you look terrible. You can't keep working yourself to death."

I nodded and walked to Hudson's ward.

My brother was pacing in striped pajamas. Calm—until he saw my reflection in the window. The "madness" took over instantly.

He lunged, fingers digging into my arms, pinching and biting.

"Jinx! Curse! Get out!" he screamed.

I stood there and took it.

Minutes later, the storm passed. He collapsed, weeping, clutching my hands.

"Harper... I'm so sorry," he sobbed. "Don't bother with me anymore. I'm just a burden. Leave me to die."

I watched him, heart aching. I didn't see the performance. The manipulation. Only my broken brother.

"Don't apologize, Hudson," I said softly. "I've saved enough. You can get treatment now. Soon Eliana will come back. We'll be a family again."

He reached for the bank card I offered. His fingers brushed the raw wound on the back of my hand—a souvenir from last night—and froze.

"Harper," he whispered. "Your hand..."