Chapter 1

Two years into building a life with Sarah, she died aboard Julian Vance's private yacht.

The official report called it a tragic accident—a simple slip and fall into the dark sea.

I knew better.

Julian had tried to force himself on her. When she fought back, he tossed her to his hulking bodyguards to teach her a lesson.

"Enjoy yourselves tonight. She’s all yours."

Three years later, I became Julian’s most cherished caged bird.

Docile. Quiet. Needing nothing, demanding nothing.

Stroking my hair, he would tell me in that lazy, careless drawl of his, "Be a good girl, and I'll give you the world."

What if I want your life, Julian? Will you give me that too?

Billionaire Heir Julian Vance Spotted Leaving Luxury Hotel with A-List Actress!

Lounging on the sofa in the penthouse he bought me, I watched the trending headline for a beat, then locked the screen.

"Jealous?"

Julian came over and sat beside me, his voice indifferent.

I leaned my head gently against his shoulder, letting my tone go soft and sweet.

"Maybe a little. But you drove all the way to my film set just to pick me up today, so... I’m over it."

Pleased with my compliance, he cupped my cheek. "Good girl, Chloe."

That night, as I lay in bed pretending to choke back muffled sobs, Julian walked out of the ensuite bathroom.

"What’s wrong?"

Without a word, I threw myself into his arms, clinging desperately to his waist.

My tears fell fast and hard.

"I know I’m not high-society. I know I can't compare to women like her."

I squeezed my eyes shut, drawing ragged breaths, letting my voice shake with broken despair.

"Just... don't leave me, Julian. Please."

"I'll be good. I'll do whatever you want."

"Just don't throw me away."

Scalding tears soaked through his silk shirt until a flicker of pity finally softened his posture.

His warm palm swept down my spine, patting me soothingly.

"I'm not going anywhere."

Julian hooked a finger under my chin, lifting my tear-streaked face. Something dark flickered in his eyes.

Then his mouth crashed down on mine, rough and demanding.

Afterward, he held me against his bare chest, tossing out a reward like bone to a dog:

"Such a good girl. Director Shaw is casting the female lead for his next blockbuster. Go audition next week."

I wound my arms around his neck. "Thank you, Julian."

To anyone watching, it looked like sheer, unadulterated devotion.

I was an actress, after all. Wearing a look of total adoration was just part of the job.

When I woke the next morning, the space beside me was already cold.

Julian had left.

I sat up. The duvet slid down, revealing the bruises and red marks covering my skin. I marched straight to the bathroom and scrubbed myself raw in the tub.

Sickening. Absolutely repulsive. Every single mark he left made my skin crawl.

Every second in his orbit reeked of greed, rot, and hollow excess.

Just thinking about it made me want to gag.

Yet, I had to kiss him. I had to sleep with him.

I had to play the doting, adoring pet, feeding his ego until he believed, without a shadow of a doubt, that I worshipped the ground he walked on.

Closing my eyes against the pain, a choked whisper slipped from my throat.

"Sarah... I miss you so much."

"I'm going to make him pay. If the law won't touch him, I’ll take matters into my own hands."

"And when it’s over, I’ll come find you."

I was an orphan. No parents, no family, raised in a broken foster care system.

Never enough food, never enough warm clothes.

One harsh winter, I didn't even have a decent coat, and the frostbite nearly ruined my ears.

I didn't understand back then, but growing up, I learned the shelter director had been pocketing every dime of government aid.