Chapter 1

My roommate was pampered, always rocking the finest designer outfits and looking like she stepped out of a magazine.

Checking myself out in the mirror over and over, I' m sure that I was definitely prettier than her.

So, after plotting and scheming for ages, I finally managed to get into Nathan Sinclair's bed.

Then one night, hiding in the shadows of a club hallway, I heard Nate laughing with his friends.

"Victoria Wynn? She's nothing but a whore, pretending she's some high-class trophy wife.

"She's even more shameless than her roommate. Toss her a few scraps and she'll wag her tail. It's honestly disgusting.

"A gold digger like her? Just throw a few million at her and she's gone. She's not even worth my time." Nathan sneered.

I looked down and ran my finger over the numbers on the check, and smirked to myself in silence.

He was right. I am greedy.

So, it's time to find someone who'll pay more.

*****

I walked down the hallway, my heels silent against the club's thick wool carpet.

I pushed open the glass door. The early autumn wind hit my face. I flagged down a taxi and gave the driver the Royal Bank's address.

At the VIP room, I slid Nate's signed check across the counter.

"1.7 million," the teller said, tapping away at the keyboard before handing me the receipt.

Once the money hit my account, I slipped my card into my purse and headed straight for Grandview Plaza.

At the Hermès counter, the sales associate eyed my outdated coat and stood there, unimpressed.

I pointed at the new coat and the Birkin bag in the window. Swiped the card. Paid.

I put on the new clothes, left the old ones in the fitting room, and went back to the apartment I shared with my roommate.

Jasmine Lane was lounging on the couch, painting her nails a bold red.

She looked up at me, and her eyes stopped on the bag I was carrying.

Jasmine smirked. "Nate paid for you?"

I walked into my bedroom and pulled out a big suitcase.

"You should've known your place." she continued.

She kept blowing on her nails, not even bothering to look up. "The Sinclair Family would never let someone like you in, you're just a broke student desperate to marry up."

I opened my closet, picked out a few tops I could still wear, and swept the rest straight into the trash.

Jasmine stood up and walked to the bedroom door. "If he dumped you, pack up and go back to whatever town you came from."

I zipped up my suitcase, straightened my back, and met Jasmine's gaze head-on.

"I've paid rent here only until the end of the month. The rest, including utilities, is on you."

Then I walked out with my suitcase.

Behind me, Jasmine grabbed a glass and threw it at the doorframe. Glass shards landed near my shoes.

I stepped over the pieces, closed the door, went downstairs, caught a cab, and went to the real estate agent.

I signed the lease for a penthouse in Riverside Tower. Ten grand a month, and I paid for the whole year upfront.

With the keys in hand, I pushed open the door to my new place. The floor-to-ceiling windows framed the entire city's nightscape.

I sank into the Italian leather sofa, pulled out my phone, and blocked all of Nathan's contacts.

Then I opened my locked notes. The list I'd been working on for months. The top circle, the real players.

I scrolled and stopped on Charles King.

He was Nathan's uncle, the real power behind Sinclair Holdings.

I pulled up his schedule: tonight at eight, there was a private dinner at The Peninsula Hotel.

Glancing at the clock on the wall, it was only three in the afternoon. I had plenty of time to score myself an invite.

I called up a scalper and dropped 100 thousand dollars for a barely legit invitation.

Once I had the e-code, I got a full makeover: hair, makeup, the works.

I didn't go for some cheap pure white dress. Instead, I picked a deep red couture gown.

Fitted, backless. Wearing my ambition right out in the open.