Chapter 2

Andrew gave me that teasing look, like he was waiting for me to blow up, like he always did.

But I fought back the urge to gag and managed a smile. "Of course not. It really suits Ms. Summers."

Andrew arched his brow, watching me to see how I'd react.

Rachel was quick to apologize, promising she'd clean the dress and give it back. "Sorry, it was an emergency. Hope you don't mind."

"Ms. Summers." I paused. "If it was really an emergency, you could've grabbed the dress. No need to take my five-figure necklace, too."

Rachel froze for a moment, but Andrew relaxed and grinned.

"Why get worked up over her? I'll get you a couple more," he said with a shrug.

I'd heard that one before.

With my dad's company about to go under, I had no choice but to bow to Andrew and swallow my pride.

But after all those years of him spoiling me, that princess attitude wasn't something I could drop because someone said so.

I couldn't do anything to Andrew, but that didn't mean I couldn't mess with those women myself.

If they were celebrities, their careers would be ruined by tabloid rumors. If they were regular office workers, their reputation would be trashed all over the office.

Whenever they showed up in front of Andrew, making a scene, he'd chuckle, sign a check, and make it all go away for me.

"Why fuss over these girls?" he'd say.

All the canaries in Harbor City were terrified of me, and there were fewer and fewer women flocking around Andrew.

But Rachel was a regular student.

When I stirred things up at her school, Andrew, who was supposed to be in an overseas meeting, caught the next flight home.

He'd never raised a hand against me before, but with Sinclair Group's stock crashing and my parents looking so heartbroken and anxious, that stung way more than any slap to the face.

"Rachel doesn't know anything. I was the one who pushed her into this," Andrew said.

He hadn't won her over yet, and his eyes were blazing with anger. "Don't take it out on her."

I was so furious my heart was about to burst. I shot back at him, "She already has a boyfriend! Are you seriously trying to be the other man? Andrew, are you really that shameless?"

Andrew lit up a cigarette, snickering. "The other man? Emily, I'd love to be, but I haven't gotten that far yet."

I stood there, completely dumbfounded.

This time was different. Rachel wasn't the same as before.

A gut feeling had me tossing and turning all night. I couldn't sit around and wait for disaster.

I hired a private investigator to dig up everything on Rachel.

She came from a regular family, her education was nothing special, and she wasn't exactly stunning.

I didn't understand why Andrew would be so obsessed with her.

I showed up at her place with my crew. The old apartment reeked of mildew. As I was about to kick the door in, someone yanked me back and slammed me to the ground. My cheek burned as it scraped against the ground.

All I could see were Andrew's red-soled leather shoes.

He crouched down, his features blurred by the haze of smoke.

Andrew said, "Emily, you really are naughty."

He locked me up in the Pierce residence's punishment room for three days and three nights.

What tormented me more than thirst was the endless darkness.

Andrew knew I was terrified of the dark, so when he renovated the estate, he made sure every inch was bathed in light.

The garden blazed with lights whenever I was awake.

People in Harbor City joked that Andrew had spent a fortune to build me a "city that never slept."

But it was also he who personally built this room with no windows or light, a place meant to imprison me.

After 72 hours, Andrew picked up my limp body with a strange tenderness, his embrace still lingering with the sugary scent of Rachel's perfume.

I thought I'd run out of tears long ago, but when I touched my cheek, it was burning wet, red. He asked me, "Have you learned your lesson now, Emily?"

*****

The wedding suit was delivered, but it was tailored for another man.

I lowered my gaze, letting out a bitter, self-deprecating smile.

Yeah, Andrew, I'd learned to behave.

Andrew was picking out a dress for Rachel to wear to the dinner party. When he spotted the gown, he frowned and asked, "Why did it still get delivered? I told you the wedding was postponed."

I answered calmly, "The wedding is next week."

His hand froze, and he smirked, "Emily, are you seriously planning to have the wedding all on your own, as you did with the engagement?"

I stiffened.

I thought of that engagement party, the one I'd poured my heart into for half a year, dreaming it would be perfect.

Back then, I kept telling myself to play the part like all those high-society wives. How hard could it really be?

At least I could shine in front of everyone. At least the fireworks over Victoria Bay would blaze for three days and nights, all for me. At least, I was still the one Andrew treasured most.

But Rachel crashed my engagement party, causing a commotion.

Her eyes were red, and she stood there in a plain white T-shirt and jeans, looking downright shabby and almost laughable next to my custom-made gown.

But the moment Andrew saw her, his usually unruffled expression finally showed a crack.

Rachel said, "Andrew, I'm not going to be the other woman. Are you coming with me or not?"

She pressed a fruit knife to her wrist, a clumsy, almost ridiculous move.

But Andrew believed her.

He seized the blade with his bare hand, blood streaming down his fingers.

Without so much as a glance back, he tossed out, "Emily, carry on with the engagement party."

As the crowd erupted in shock, Andrew clamped his hand around Rachel's neck and hauled her out.

Meanwhile, the guests were gossiping and laughing behind my back, my parents' faces twisted with worry and anger, and the entertainment reporters' flashes kept going off nonstop.

Fireworks lit up the night sky over Victoria Bay.

Humiliation and despair washed over me, tears streaming down my face. In that moment, I swore to myself this was the last tear I'd shed for Andrew.

But seriously, it hurt like hell.