Amber stalked toward me, holding a bottle of red wine like a weapon.

I recognized it. Dad’s prized 1947 Romanee-Conti. A fifty-thousand-dollar bottle.

"Wow, a real treasure trove in here," she said, her eyes gleaming as she scanned the walls of vintage wine. "The old man really knew how to live."

"Those were my father's," I said, struggling to my feet. "Don't touch them."

"Your father?" Amber’s laugh was a screech. "Stop pretending, you whore!"

She raised a wine bottle high, her eyes locking onto the hand I had planted on the floor for support. She aimed for my fingers.

"These are the hands you play the piano with, right?" she sneered. "The same hands you use to play the whore and seduce men."

"No..."

CRASH!

The bottle slipped from her grasp, shattering on the floor right next to my hand.

Dark red wine splashed everywhere. Shards of glass flew like tiny daggers.

A razor-sharp piece sliced across the back of my hand. A deep gash instantly split the skin open. Blood welled up, dark and thick.

"Ah!" I gasped, yanking my hand back on pure instinct. The searing pain made my vision tunnel to black.

"Look at that color. So pretty," Amber cooed, crouching down to dip a finger in the puddle. "Just as red as the blood you’re spilling."

She stood up and waved at her goons.

"You two, have some fun. Smash it all."

"No!" I lunged for the wine racks. "Those are priceless!"

The tattooed man shoved me back. I hit the wall, hard.

They went on a rampage. A 1982 Lafite. A 1990 Dom Pérignon. The bottle of Screaming Eagle Dad had bought to celebrate my award.

Every crash was a knife in my heart.

The wine pooled on the floor, a dark red sea mixing with the smell of my own blood.

"Stop!" I scrambled to get up. "I'm telling you, Liam is my brother! Call him right now if you don't believe me!"

Amber walked over and stomped on my hand. Her sharp heel dug into my skin.

"Still talking tough?" she sneered, looming over me. "I know your type."

I curled into a ball, blood seeping from the wound on my hand.

"Thinking Liam's going to ride in and save you?" She knelt, patting my cheek. "Not a chance, little bitch."

Her fake nails left red marks on my face.

"I'll give you two choices," she said, her voice turning cold. "Either you give me eight hundred thousand dollars right now as a 'breakup fee,' and you disappear from Liam's life forever."

"Or..." She pulled out her phone. The flash blinded me again and again as she snapped pictures. "I post these online. Then I call the cops and tell them the sugar baby attacked me."

"You've been a sugar baby long enough to get a house out of it," she sneered. "Eight hundred thousand dollars should be pocket change for you."

I gritted my teeth against the pain.

Blood dripped from the gash, pooling on the floor and mixing with the spilled red wine.

I had to give in, just for now, to stop this from getting worse.

My hand shaking, I pulled out my phone.

I called my best friend, Chloe.

"Chloe..." My voice was hoarse. "I need a million dollars. Cash. At my house. As fast as you can."

"Stella? What's going on? You sound—"

"Please, just trust me," I cut her off. "Just come. Don't ask why."

I hung up.

Amber's eyes lit up. A starving wolf staring at a steak.

"A million?" She licked her lips, surprised I'd offered more than she asked. She figured I was scared and trying to buy my way out for good.

She smiled, patting my cheek again. "Now you're being smart."

Twenty minutes later, the crunch of tires on the gravel driveway broke the silence.

Chloe was fast.

She's one of the top lawyers in the country, and my only true friend.

The cellar door creaked open. Amber swaggered out, a greedy smirk on her face.

"Money's here?"

I followed close behind, my good hand clutching my injured wrist to keep it steady.

Blood seeped from between my fingers.

Each beat of my heart sent a wave of searing pain through the wound.

The front door opened and Chloe strode in. She was wearing a black Armani suit, flanked by two professional bodyguards.

Her eyes scanned the wine stains on my clothes, the blood on my lip. Her entire face turned to ice.

"Stella?" Her voice was low and dangerous. "Who did this?"

I gave her a slight shake of my head, a silent warning not to react yet.

"Do you have the money?" I asked, keeping my voice steady.

Chloe took a deep breath and pulled a tablet from her briefcase. "Will a wire transfer work?"

"Yes, of course!" Amber practically salivated, rushing over.

A few minutes later, the transfer was done. Amber stared at the confirmation on her phone, her eyes wide as dinner plates.

A million dollars. She'd never seen that much money in her life.

"Hahaha, yes!" She spun in a circle, clutching her phone. "I'm rich!"

She waved at her thugs. "Let's go! Time to celebrate!"

The three of them swaggered out, leaving a trail of destruction behind them.

The front door slammed. The house was finally quiet.

Chloe rushed to my side, inspecting my injuries.

"God, your hand..." Her voice was laced with fury. "I'm taking you to the hospital."

"No," I said, sinking onto the sofa. "Call a private doctor. Here. I want a full medical report."

Chloe understood immediately.

"Evidence," she nodded. "I'm on it."

She pulled out her phone. "Dr. Martinez? It's Chloe. I need you at Stella Sterling's home, immediately..."

She then gestured to her bodyguards. "Get all the security footage. Interior and exterior."

I closed my eyes, focusing on the dull, throbbing ache in my injured hand.

Every pulse was a reminder of the humiliation. But what I felt more than pain was rage.

Half an hour later, the doctor had cleaned and dressed my wounds and left.

I picked up my phone and called my family's lawyer.

"Mr. Richardson, it's Stella," I said. My voice was cold and flat. Devoid of all emotion. "I want to sue a woman named Amber Lynn."

"The charges are: breaking and entering, assault, extortion, and malicious destruction of property."

His voice was grim on the other end. "I'll need all the evidence."

"The medical report, security footage, bank transfer records, and a list of damages," I said, enunciating every word. "I want her to rot in prison."

After dealing with the legal matters, my assistant finally located Liam.

[Skybar, 1755 Sunset Blvd. Top floor VIP room.]

A cold smile touched my lips.

One of the most expensive members-only clubs in LA. My useless "brother" was still living it up.

"Chloe, come with me."

"You need to rest," she protested.

"No. It's time I paid my dear brother a visit."

We could hear the music and laughter before we even got to the door. Through the massive glass windows, I saw him. Liam had his arm around Amber, surrounded by his pack of worthless friends.

"...that woman was unbelievable!" Amber was sobbing, tears streaming down her face. "I just wanted to pay my respects to your father, and this random woman just attacked me!"

"She said the house was hers!" she cried. "And she had these scary bodyguards threaten me!"

Liam pulled her closer. "Baby, don't worry. I don't know who that woman was, but nobody messes with me on my own turf. She's dead."

"I'm the sole heir to the Sterling fortune," he announced, raising a glass of champagne to his friends. "When I find that bitch, I'll make her get on her knees and apologize to Amber!"

His friends cheered, raising their glasses.

"Yeah! Make her kneel!"

"Liam, you're a billionaire now!"

"You could crush someone like that with one finger!"

I listened from the doorway, a bitter laugh caught in my throat.

The sole heir?

My poor, clueless adopted brother.

You still have no idea you're not a Sterling by blood.

Whether you inherit anything—and how much—is entirely my decision to make.

I smoothed my clothes and pushed the door open.

My voice cut through the noise, cold and sharp.

"I'm right here, Liam. Who did you want to put on their knees?"