Chapter 2

August in the South felt like being sealed inside a pressure cooker with no way out.

In this run-down studio apartment in the old part of the city, even the air felt thick and heavy.

The ancient ceiling fan overhead let out a slow, dying creak, creak, but it couldn't push away even a hint of the heat.

I had Audrey pinned hard against that iron-frame bed—the kind that rattled violently at the slightest movement—like a desperate, caged animal, taking in every inch of warmth her body had to give.

Sweat poured down my dark back and dripped onto her pale collarbones, leaving flushed, raw marks across her skin.

"Kyle… easy… the bed's going to break…"

Audrey's long legs were locked tight around my waist. Her voice was breathless—caught somewhere between moans she couldn't hold back and sobs she was trying to swallow. Her nails sank deep into the muscles of my back, dragging red lines through my skin.

I didn't stop. I pushed harder.

I hated this world. I hated this goddamn poverty. And this—raw, rough, and desperate—was the only way I knew how to claim what little power I had. On her. With her.

"You're mine… Audrey Brooks, you're mine*!"* I bit down on her earlobe, my voice ground down to something raw, like sandpaper dragged across wood.

"I'm yours… always…" She tilted her head back. Tears slid from the corners of her eyes, mixing with sweat, catching the dim light like broken fragments of glass.

We rolled across that narrow bed, the sounds of our bodies colliding sharp and unmistakable in the dead silence of the night. There was something destructive about it—we both knew how cold the world outside that door was, so we burned into each other with everything we had, in this tiny room that was all we had left.

And then, just as we both reached the edge—minds going completely blank—

BANG.

One violent crash. The wooden door, which had barely been holding together to begin with, was kicked in from the outside.

It slammed hard into the wall, the impact thundering through the room.

The hallway's motion-sensor light snapped on instantly. The harsh white glare cut through the doorway like a blade, slicing into the dark, heat-soaked room.

"Ah—!"

Audrey let out a terrified scream. She shoved me away and snatched the thin, faded blanket, yanking it around her naked body as she scrambled into the corner of the bed, shaking violently.

I froze. Blood rushed to my head. On instinct, I grabbed a pair of pants and pulled them on, spinning around with eyes burning red.

Standing in the doorway was Audrey's mother.

Behind her stood two thick-built families. One of them had his phone raised, the camera flash firing in rapid bursts—click, click, click—freezing our most humiliating, most wretched moment in photographs.

"Put that down!" I roared, lunging forward like an enraged animal, tearing the phone out of his hand and smashing it against the floor.

The crack of the screen shattering rang out sharp and clean in the silent room.

SMACK.

Before I could even straighten up, Audrey's mother had already closed the distance. She wound her arm back with full force and slapped me hard across the face.

She hit me with everything she had. My eardrum rang. My mouth filled with the taste of blood.

"Kyle Hill, you disgusting piece of trash! Have you no shame?!"

Gloria Brooks jabbed a finger in my face, her voice sharp enough to cut through the ceiling. "A filthy construction worker who can barely scrape together enough to feed himself—what gives you the right to ruin my daughter?!"

I pressed my hand to my burning cheek, jaw clenched so tight it ached. I said nothing.

What was there to say?

I was shirtless. I reeked of sour sweat and construction dust that cheap soap couldn't wash out. And Gloria stood there in a silk dress, a designer bag hanging from her wrist.

The gap between our worlds had just become a physical thing—a slap across the face—and whatever dignity I had as a man shattered with it.

"Mom! What are you doing?! Get out!"

Audrey scrambled off the bed, the blanket still wrapped around her, and threw herself in front of me, screaming at her mother through her tears.

"Shut your mouth! I have no daughter as shameless as you!"

Gloria grabbed Audrey by the hair and dragged her toward the door. "Look at yourself! Living in this pigsty with this broke loser, you can't even afford decent clothes! Mr. Draven has already made it clear — one word from you, and tomorrow he'll buy you a Porsche. A luxury penthouse downtown, your pick. Are you out of your mind, putting yourself through this with a deadbeat like him?"

"I won't go! I'd rather die than marry that old man! I love Kyle!" Audrey fought back with everything she had. Her pale arms slammed against the iron bed frame, leaving a wide, dark bruise.

"Love? Can love afford food on the table? Can love cover a down payment?"

Gloria spun around and looked at me like I was a pile of garbage — her eyes filled with a suffocating contempt.

"Kyle, I'm going to say this once. You want to marry my daughter? Fine. One month. Bring me five hundred thousand dollars for a down payment and buy an apartment downtown. If you can't, get the hell out of her life. And if you ever touch her again, I'll have your legs broken."

With that, she reached into her purse, pulled out a stack of photos, and hurled them at my face.

The photos scattered across the floor.

There I was — hauling bags of cement on a construction site, eating a five-dollar meal in the scorching sun, kneeling in front of the foreman just to beg for the wages I was owed.

"Look at yourself. What could you possibly give my daughter? Do you really think you deserve her?"

Gloria let out a cold laugh, then dragged a screaming, sobbing Audrey out the door.

Bang.

The door slammed shut.

The tiny rented room fell silent again.

The air still carried the faint, lingering warmth from the intimacy we'd shared, but my heart had plunged into a bottomless pit of ice.

I slowly crouched down and picked up the photo of me kneeling. My fingers trembled, completely out of my control.

Five hundred thousand dollars.

Those words hit me like a mountain caving in on my spine — crushing me completely.

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