Chapter 1

Everyone in the Nunhill City knew I was Dylan Pearson's kept mistress.

When his company's cash flow collapsed and he needed 30 million fast, he cupped my face in the middle of the night, voice soft but cold as ice. "Sophie, spend one night with that boss. Think of it as helping me."

Then he personally shoved me into a dark hotel suite.

The door locked behind me. The lights snapped on, revealing a man sitting on the couch with sharp features and icy expression.

He was the kind of underworld kingpin people whispered about but never dared to provoke.

He looked up. The second he saw my face, his eyes went red and his voice shook. "Sophie, I've been looking for you for three years."

*****

Dylan Pearson's fingers were long and slender, and when he brushed them over my cheek, it was with his signature, measured tenderness.

But the words that came out of his mouth were like a blade of ice laced with poison, stabbing straight into my heart.

"Sophie, that boss asked for you by name," he said. "30 million dollars. Just spend one night with him, and you'd have saved us."

I looked up at the face I'd loved for three years. Under the lights, his features were still flawlessly handsome, but those charming eyes now only held calculation and indifference.

For three years, I'd been like a spoiled pet, living in the gilded cage Dylan had crafted just for me.

He taught me all the rules of high society: how to dress, how to smile, how to be the perfect arm candy.

Everyone in Nunhill City's elite circle said Dylan loved me down to his bones.

I used to believe that, too.

It was only now that I understood when one got bored of his pet, one could just cash it in.

I didn't cry, didn't throw a fit. Not even a flicker of emotion crossed my face.

I just nodded calmly. "Okay."

Dylan looked taken aback by my obedience. For a split second, guilt flashed in his eyes, but joy quickly took over.

He hugged me tight and whispered in my ear, "Sophie, once I get through this, I'll pay you back double, I swear."

Pay me back? Really? I dropped my gaze, masking the scorn in my eyes.

Little did he know this was the moment I'd been waiting for all along.

Dylan ushered me into the presidential suite at the very top of the hotel himself.

He smoothed out a stray lock of hair near my temple, his touch as tender as ever. It was like we were about to go on a romantic date, not make a filthy trade.

Dylan said softly, "Be good. I'll be waiting outside."

He shut the door behind me, leaving me all alone in the pitch-black room.

I didn't move, just stood still, letting the silence wrap around me as I listened to my steady heartbeat.

In the darkness, I could hear another breath.

It was heavy, oppressive, with just a hint of tobacco.

It was coming from the man on the couch.

Word on the street was, his name was William Clark. He was a new kingpin who'd clawed his way to the top in just a few years. He was ruthless, merciless, the kind of guy even Dylan, the golden boy of the city's elite, wouldn't dare mess with.

It seemed Dylan was willing to risk everything for that 30 million dollars.

The silence in the air was suffocating, like death itself.

After what felt like forever, a faint click broke the silence.

The lights snapped on.

I instinctively squinted, and once my eyes adjusted, I finally got a good look at the man on the couch.

William looked even younger than the rumors claimed, with sharply defined features and fierce brows. He had a faint scar on his forehead, not enough to ruin his striking looks, but making him look wild.

His gaze was locked on me.

Those pitch-black eyes were like a cold, bottomless pool, as if they could pull one's soul right in.

The instant our eyes met, I saw his hand holding the lighter suddenly tremble.

In the next moment, he rose abruptly, his tall figure bearing down on me with an overwhelming, suffocating presence as he strode closer.

I didn't back down.

I just stood there, calm and steady, watching him. I caught the shock, disbelief, and a tidal wave of grief in his eyes that looked like it might drown him.

He walked right up to me.

We were so close, I could see the redness in his eyes and the way his jaw was clenched tight.

His lips moved as thought he was about to speak, but nothing came out.

Finally, he raised his hand, his fingertips just barely trembling as he reached for my cheek. But he froze in midair, like I was some delicate mirage that would vanish if he touched me.

"You..." He finally managed to speak, his voice rough and hoarse, like it had been scraped raw. "What's your name?"

I looked at him, enunciating every word. "Sophie Clark."