Chapter 1

"Mr. Rivas, Ms. Moss has sold her memories of secretly loving you to the Memory Buyback Center for 200 million dollars," Carter Reed said.

He lowered his head and pushed a heavy contract toward Tobias Rivas.

Tobias stubbed out his cigarette, glanced at the fingerprint on the contract, and let out a cold laugh. "200 million dollars? She made quite a profit."

He added, "Tell her to sell the rest of her memories about the Rivas family too. I'll give her another 30 million dollars."

He thought it was just another business deal, but he didn't notice that when Stella Moss signed the contract, the last glimmer of light in her eyes faded away.

Tobias had no idea that buried in that pile of discarded data streams was a ticking time bomb that would utterly ruin him.

The day Tobias finally claimed the throne as the richest man in the world, he turned around and called out her name, only to find that no one in the world even remembered who Tobias Rivas was.

All his glory had become nothing but a fictional ledger, left unclaimed by anyone.

*****

My adoptive brother Tobias slid the red-covered file across the desk to me. His fingers were long, nails perfectly trimmed. His hands were accustomed to wielding power and sealing deals.

Outside, the City of Synesthesia shimmered with blue neon, the lights weaving together like threads of desire and commerce pulsing through the night.

He picked up his whiskey, the ice ringing sharply against the glass.

"Go ahead and sign. I'm buying your memories from age ten to fifteen," Tobias said, his voice deep and rough, like sandpaper scraping stone.

He never looked at me, his gaze locked on the neon haze beyond the floor-to-ceiling window.

I knew he didn't care about those five years of my life. What he really wanted were the interactions between me and Jonah Keith, the Keith family's heir, and Rivas Group's biggest rival.

Hidden in those interactions was the original password to the Keith family trust.

I stared at the contract. The words were crammed together, with every section tagged with its own price.

I gave a small laugh, my fingers running over the cool paper, feeling its texture.

I didn't look at him, just kept my gaze fixed on those zeros. To Tobias, I was probably just a human hard drive.

I was just a walking database the Rivas family had adopted, designed specifically to collect fragments of information for him.

At last, Tobias turned and looked at me, his brows slightly furrowed. A faint scent of cedar clung to him, the perfume he wore only when tense.

He leaned in, his shadow swallowing the light on the desk. He reached out and gripped my chin, his fingers pressing hard enough to hurt.

He said, "Stella, don't try to bargain with me. You know how much effort the Rivas family put into raising you. Now it's time for you to repay your debt.

"Give me those memories about Jonah Keith. You'll get enough money to last you a hundred lifetimes. After that, you can go wherever you want. You'll be free."

His words were soft, coaxing, like he was luring a lost child home.

I parted my lips, a bitter taste rising in my mouth. It was some kind of neural warning before the empathy extractor machine extracted the memories. But I no longer cared.

I reached for the pen beside me, its weight settling heavily against my index finger.

I said, "Fine. I'll sign. But you have to add a condition. After I hand over my memories, I want the right to deal with any feelings I have left, however I want. No changes, no exceptions."

My voice was so calm it even surprised me.

Tobias looked at me, a flicker of disgust in his eyes. Maybe it was just that cold contempt after he knew what kind of dealing I was making.

He nodded and pulled his hand back.

I bent down and signed my name where it was marked. The pen scratched across the paper, the sound almost painful to hear.

That was the sound of my memories breaking apart. Tobias picked up the contract and passed it straight to Carter, waiting at the door.

He stood up, came up behind me, and gave my shoulder a firm pat.

His hand was warm, but the warmth never reached me, as if a wall of ice stood between us.

"That's better. Be at the lab tomorrow at three. Carter will pick you up," he said, and left the study without a backward glance.

I heard the echo of his leather shoes on the floor. I sat there, absently rubbing the spot on my chin where his fingers had pressed.

There was still a lingering warmth there.

But while signing that red contract, I'd already used the only bit of power I had left to quietly slip a line of code into the margin.

A trap he'd never escape, not in a hundred lifetimes.

The lab was bathed in a harsh white light, so bright it felt like staring into a winter snowstorm, glaring enough to make one's eyes ache. I lay on the cold metal table.

A few technicians in protective suits bustled around, each holding a long, transparent tube.

Inside the tubes, pale lavender or deep gray liquid flowed. It was the discarded emotions, siphoned straight from someone else's mind.