Chapter 1

The flashbulbs were blinding.

They popped and flickered all around us, a storm of light that made my head ache. Leo Sterling' s hand was a heavy weight on the small of my back, his fingers digging into the fabric of my dress, holding me in place. To the world, we were a picture of power. The ruthless tech mogul and his indispensable, beautiful personal assistant.

It was a lie everyone in Silicon Valley knew and repeated.

"Smile, Ava," Leo murmured, his voice a low command meant only for me. His breath was warm against my ear.

I did as I was told. I stretched my lips into a shape that looked like a smile, my eyes fixed on a point just over the photographers' heads. My face felt like a mask, tight and unnatural. I was Ava Reed, a talented artist. That' s who I was supposed to be. But here, in this world, I was just Leo' s property.

A reporter shouted a question. "Mr. Sterling! Is it true Sterling Innovations is about to acquire OmniCorp?"

Leo' s grip tightened on my back. He leaned into the microphone, his public smile brilliant and cold. "We're always looking for new opportunities. But tonight is about celebrating progress, not business."

He was a master at this. He controlled the narrative, just like he controlled everything else. Just like he controlled me.

Later, inside the grand ballroom, the noise was a dull roar of conversation and clinking glasses. Leo left me by the bar, a silent order to wait. I stood perfectly still, a doll on a shelf. People' s eyes slid over me, some with pity, some with contempt, most with the cold calculation of assessing my worth in this ecosystem. They knew the deal. Leo Sterling didn' t have assistants; he had possessions.

He returned twenty minutes later, his expression unreadable. He didn' t say a word, just took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and handed it to me.

"Drink it," he said.

I didn' t want it, but I took a sip. It was bitter.

He watched me, a small, cruel smile playing on his lips. "I have a new task for you, Ava."

My heart beat a little faster. His tasks were never simple.

"There' s a man here tonight," he continued, his eyes scanning the crowd. "Roderick Vance. He' s the last holdout on the OmniCorp board. He thinks he' s clever. He thinks he can get a better price."

He found his target, and his gaze locked onto a gray-haired man across the room.

"I want you to go over to him. Be charming. He has a weakness for pretty young things." His voice dropped, becoming thick with disdain. "I need you to keep him occupied. Make him feel important. Make him feel like he might have a chance with you."

A cold sickness coiled in my stomach. It was a familiar feeling.

"And then," Leo said, his eyes flicking back to me, filled with dark amusement, "when I walk by with his wife, I want you to spill your drink on him. 'Accidentally,' of course."

I stared at him, my mind blank with shock. This was a new level of public degradation.

"What' s the matter?" He tilted his head. "Is that too difficult for you? I pay you enough to handle these simple things, don' t I?"

He named a figure, a sum so obscene it could fund my art for a lifetime. A sum that was meant to remind me that I was bought and paid for.

"Yes, Leo," I said, my voice a hollow whisper.

I walked through the crowd, each step feeling heavier than the last. I could feel Leo' s eyes on me, a physical pressure. Roderick Vance was exactly as Leo described. He preened under my attention, his eyes greasy with interest as I laughed at his terrible jokes.

I saw Leo approaching out of the corner of my eye, a woman with a strained smile on his arm. This was it.

My hand trembled as I lifted the champagne flute. I stumbled, just as planned, and the cold liquid splashed all over the front of Roderick Vance' s expensive suit.

He gasped. His wife shrieked. A circle of silence opened up around us as everyone turned to stare. The humiliation was a hot fire crawling up my neck. I could hear Leo' s smooth, fake apology as he guided Mrs. Vance away, leaving me to face the fallout.

Roderick' s face was purple with rage. "You clumsy little bitch!" he hissed.

I just stood there, absorbing the insults, the stares, the judgment. This was my job. This was the price.

Later that night, back in the sterile silence of the penthouse apartment Leo provided for me, I finally let the mask drop. I leaned against the cold glass of the floor-to-ceiling window, looking out over the city lights that glittered like scattered diamonds.

They didn' t mean anything to me.

I pulled my phone out, but I didn' t call anyone. I opened the photo gallery. There was only one picture there. A man with kind eyes and a gentle smile, lying in a hospital bed. Wires and tubes connected him to a symphony of beeping machines.

Ethan. My Ethan.

The reason I was here. The reason I endured Leo Sterling.

A small, almost invisible icon glowed in the corner of my phone' s screen. It was a simple progress bar, filled to 23%. Below it, words only I could see shimmered:

Disillusionment Value: 23%.

Target: Leo Sterling.

Objective: Accumulate 100% disillusionment to trigger return protocol.

Every humiliation, every moment of pain, every piece of my soul that Leo tried to crush, it all served a purpose. It was fuel. It was my way back home.

I traced the outline of Ethan' s face on the screen.

"I' m coming, Ethan," I whispered to the empty room. "I promise. I' m coming back to you."

The city lights blurred as tears finally filled my eyes. But I wasn' t crying from sadness. I was crying from a deep, burning resolve. I would endure. I would collect my points. And I would break free.