Chapter 1

When I had a high fever, Bianca White chopped off all my hair I'd cared for over seven years. Then she sold pictures of my bald head for two bucks each in the socialite group chat.

My husband, Victor Sterling, had his arm around her and said, "It's just a joke. Don't take it so seriously."

So I shaved Bianca's head bald and put a "For Sale" sign around her neck.

Victor screamed at me, "Autumn, are you even human?"

Later, Bianca sent me a photo of her engagement ring. "Once Victor's company goes public, he's going to marry me. Autumn, don't forget to come to our wedding."

She had no idea that his so-called business empire only existed because my family was backing it.

By then, I was done with Victor for good.

*****

I shot awake.

A ripping pain tore through my scalp, like someone was scraping my skull with a wire brush.

My vision was blurry, and my eyelids felt weighed down by the fever, like they were filled with lead. But the pain was so sharp, it pierced through the fever-induced haze.

I blinked, forcing my eyes to focus.

Bianca was looming over my bed.

She held a large pair of silver scissors, a few strands of my long hair still dangling from the blades. That innocent-yet-cruel smile played on her lips as she cocked her head, staring right at me.

"Oh, you're awake?" Her voice was clear. "Just helping you out with your hair, Autumn. It was so thick and long. Must've been torture in the summer, huh?"

My mind buzzed.

I forced myself up, legs like jelly, and stumbled toward the bathroom attached to my bedroom.

The reflection staring back at me was ashen, lips cracked and dry. But what really caught my eye was my hair, the hair I had cared for over seven years, once reaching all the way down my back, now hanging in jagged, uneven chunks.

The left side was chopped off right at the ear, a few messy strands still dangling on the right, and the back was butchered so badly that huge patches of scalp were showing.

The sink in front of the mirror was piled high with broken, tangled strands of hair.

My hair was ruined.

"Pretty, right?" Bianca followed me in, her phone camera pointed straight at me, recording everything. "This look is so unique, like a dog took a bite out of your head. Actually, even a dog would've done a better job."

She kept filming, head down, fingers flying across her phone screen.

I could hear the rapid-fire taps of her keyboard, and her giggles were bubbling out of her.

A few seconds later, my phone on the nightstand started buzzing nonstop.

I went back to the bed and picked up my phone.

The screen lit up, my lock screen flooded with WhatsApp notifications. At the very top was the Betrico Socialites group chat, the group I almost never spoke in.

Bianca had posted a ten-second video. It showed my ghastly face, with my hair butchered beyond recognition.

After posting the video, she sent a message.

Bianca: [Check this out. Fallen socialite's bald head. HD, no filters. Two bucks a pic, six bucks for the full set. First come, first served. Custom meme stickers available.]

For a split second, the group chat went dead silent.

Then, the messages exploded.

Lily Simmons: [You can have my two bucks. I want the one with the scalp showing on the left. This is killing me. What am I looking at?]

Vera Williams: [I'm in for one too. Mrs. Sterling's hairstyle is epic. She could totally play a beggar in a movie.]

Zachary Cole: [@Victor Sterling, Victor, did you come up with this new hairstyle for Autumn? Bold move, man.]

Claire Shaw: [Bianca, you're the most talented hairstylist I've ever seen. This haircut's got major post-modern art vibes. Totally worth two bucks.]

They transferred money to Bianca one after another. The group chat kept bubbling up with various emojis, laughing, facepalming, or pounding the floor.

I clutched my phone so hard my knuckles went pale. My body was shaking out of control. One second I was freezing, the next I was burning up, the chills and heat racing from my fingertips all the way down my spine.

The fever hit me like a wave, crashing together with the crushing humiliation. Everything in front of me started to blur.

I looked up at Bianca, who was still filming me with her phone.

She raised an eyebrow at me, her grin stretching wider.

"Are you mad?" She blinked at me. "It's just a joke, Autumn. Weren't you always the chill one? Victor loves my playful personality."

My lips moved, but no words came out.

I simply glared at her, my eyes fixed on the scissors in her hand, still streaked with strands of my hair.