His voice was low, carrying a grim chill.
"Like back then? That snowy day when you people threw me out the front door like trash?"
I clenched my teeth and stayed silent.
It hurt. Of course it hurt.
But I didn't have the right to cry.
The creditors understood immediately—in front of this new darling, I was nothing but a plaything.
Anthony withdrew his foot and rubbed the sole against the grass in disgust.
"Layla Sullivan, beg me."
I lifted my head. Rainwater ran down my tangled hair into my eyes, stinging.
"Mr. Vance, can you lend me fifty thousand? My younger brother is in the hospital—"
"Lend?"
He laughed coldly.
"The Sullivans are gone. What would you pay me back with? This body that's already been used up?"
I didn't speak. My nails dug into my palms.
He bent down, gripped my chin, and forced me to meet his gaze.
"Be my mistress, and I'll pay off your debts."
I didn't hesitate long.
Against my brother's sky-high medical bills, dignity wasn't worth the paper it was printed on.
"Okay."
My voice came out hoarse, scraped raw from somewhere deep in my throat.
Anthony was far from satisfied with my compliance; a flash of cruelty passed through his eyes.
"Get in the car."
The heat inside hit me like a wall, sharp with cedar.
A pink cartoon throw pillow sat on the passenger seat—Audrey Swanson's style.
I was soaked through, shrinking back, not daring to sit fully.
Anthony got in. Seeing me like this, his brow furrowed deeper.
"What's with the innocent act?"
He clamped a hand around my waist and yanked me onto his lap.
Mud and dirty water smeared across his expensive suit pants.
I panicked, trying to get up. "Mr. Vance, it's dirty—"
"So you know you're dirty too?"
His tone was mocking, and his fingers traced mercilessly across the burn on my forehead.
"Who you are now is only worth this price."
The car sped through the city, arriving at a hillside villa in the south.
That was where Anthony lived now.
Inside, he pointed straight at the bathroom.
"Go wash yourself clean. Don't dirty my floor."
There were no clean clothes to change into.
I came out wrapped in a bath towel. Anthony was on the sofa, smoking.
He tossed me a silk nightgown.
It wasn't new.
"Put it on."
I unfolded it and caught the scent of perfume.
Mon Paris. Audrey's signature.
I turned my back, untied the towel, and pulled on the nightgown.
When I turned around, Anthony was on a video call.