Chapter 1

During Chriatmas, my mother booked a plane ticket for me, asking me to visit Jason Grant, the boy she had been sponsoring for years.

But the moment I stepped off the plane, Jason appeared with a gang, snatched my ID, and dragged me into a scam center.

I cried and begged him to let me go, appealing to the favor my mother had done for him.

Instead, he told me that I was the Chriatmas's gift my mother had given him.

Just as despair threatened to overwhelm me, the boss of the scam center arrived for his Chriatmas inspection.

I looked up and froze. The man standing before me was none other than my father, who'd been missing for five years and loved me more than anything.

"Dad!" I shouted with everything I had, right as the door was about to slam shut.

But Jason clamped his hand over my mouth. Mike Taylor, guarding me outside, drove his foot straight into my chest.

Blood spurted from my mouth instantly. I felt like my insides exploded. With all the pain and the blood rising, I couldn't make another sound.

"Who the hell are you yelling for? Trying to claim ties with our boss, huh? Do you have a death wish?" Mike spat.

I stared outside, head spinning and vision blurred. I realized my dad didn't hear me.

He kept his hands clasped behind his back, letting the crowd swallow him up as he strode farther and farther away from me.

Jason sneered, "Look at how loudly she shouted. Starve her for three days first.

"Her mother said she's smart and attractive, and plenty of men are crazy about her. She'd be the perfect candidate for running scams."

I never expected my mom to say that about me.

Every rainy night since my dad vanished, she'd hold me and whisper I was the only reason she kept going in this world.

How could she hand away the one person she cared about most?

I tried to force the words out, but my voice was shaky and weak as I whispered, "Impossible. She wouldn't do this to me."

Jason crouched down, grabbed my hair, and jerked my head up.

He snarled, "Open your damn eyes and see for yourself.

"I mean more to your mom than you ever did.

"Every single night after your dad went missing, it was me by her side through those long, lonely hours."

He shoved his phone right in front of me, making me read every single message between him and my mom.

My mom was sweet-talking him, calling him baby and asking when he'd spend Chriatmas with her.

Jason texted back that he hadn't hit his quota yet; he still needed one more name before he could leave.

My mom fired back without hesitation: [Why don't you use my daughter to fill the spot?]

Jason replied: [You're wicked. I like that about you.]

I squeezed my eyes shut, lost in utter despair. My mom, who'd always called me her precious child, was this ruthless and cold-hearted deep down.

To please a man, she would turn her own daughter, whom she had raised for twenty years, into a bargaining chip.

This kind of family betrayal hurt even worse than any beating or blow to the body.

It was so agonizing that I curled up tight, falling apart and sobbing on the cold floor.

My dad was my only chance at getting out of here. If I couldn't find a way to see him, I could never get out.

Jason was about to step out of the blood-soaked room when I lunged out and grabbed his ankle tightly.

"Jason, please let me talk to your boss," I begged. "I'm his daughter. His name is Sam Morris, and I'm Stella Morris."

Jason and the two muscle-bound thugs by the door laughed, their mockery sharp and merciless.

"You must be out of your mind. Sure, our boss is Sam Morris, but he never had any daughters," Jason sneered.

How could I prove it? My thoughts were racing. Then I remembered the scar on my dad's chin from saving me.

"My dad has a scar on his chin," I blurted out. "He got it when he saved me from falling while we were skiing."

Mike at the door froze for a second, then leaned close to Jason, whispering, "Jason, Mr. Morris does have a scar on his chin. Could it be true?"

"That doesn't prove anything. Lots of people have scars. I've got one too," Jason snapped.

With his chin lifted, Jason jabbed a finger at his own chin. Suddenly, rage surged in his eyes, raw and fierce.

"Stella, you think you can mess with us?" he snarled.

He slammed his foot down on my hand, crushing my fingers so hard it felt like fire shooting straight to my heart. My scream ripped through the room, raw with agony.

Mike started hammering relentless kicks into my stomach.

"You nasty piece of work, trying to bluff, huh?" he snapped. "Let me show you what happens when you mess with us."

Out of nowhere, he produced a needle, grabbed my hand from under Jason's foot, and mercilessly stabbed it beneath my fingernail.

My scream tore through the hallway, sharp and desperate.

On instinct, I swung my other arm upward, beating on Jason's foot with every ounce of strength I had left.

"You still dare fight back against me?" Jason spat. "I'll make sure you regret ever laying a finger on me."

Without hesitation, he slammed his foot down onto my other struggling hand, pinning it mercilessly to the floor.

Jason was a heavy guy. His whole weight pressed down on the hand I always used to play piano and crushed it without a second thought.

I heard the unmistakable crunch of finger bones breaking.

The blinding agony sent my body into wild spasms, cold sweat soaking my skin as I teetered on the edge of blacking out.

Suddenly, a sharp knock shattered the terrifying silence.

A voice called out, "Jason, stop.

"Mr. Morris is making his Chriatmas's rounds today. He doesn't want any bloodshed. He's on his way over right now.

"You two, clean this mess up and get out here to greet him."

'Why does the voice sound so familiar?' I thought.

Jason and Mike froze, their faces going pale as they exchanged a panicked look.

"Jason, now is not the time for screwups," Mike hissed. "Mr. Morris is cold-blooded. If we piss him off, we might not live to see another day."

Just then, I caught the faint sound of footsteps approaching from outside, getting louder with each step.

My dad was coming here. I had to let him see me.

As soon as Jason and Mike cracked open the door to leave, my survival instinct took over. My body moved on its own, and I pulled myself up off the floor like my life depended on it.

I kicked Jason as hard as I could right in the back. He staggered forward, leaving a gap, and I dove for it, bolting straight out the door.