Chapter 1

"This is a contract, Scarlett. Nothing more."

Liam Gallagher slid the document across the polished mahogany table. His voice was as cold and hard as the glass of whiskey in his hand.

"Don' t fall in love with me. It will only make things complicated."

I looked at the man in front of me, Ethan' s biggest rival. He was handsome, but his eyes were sharp, calculating. I felt no warmth from him. That was good. I had had enough warmth to last a lifetime, and it had burned me to the ground.

"Don' t worry, Mr. Gallagher," I said, my voice steady. "I don' t believe in love anymore."

He nodded, satisfied. He pushed a small velvet box towards me. "My grandmother will expect to see this. Wear it at all times."

I opened it. A diamond ring, so large it looked fake, glittered under the office lights. It felt heavy in my hand, a beautiful shackle. I slid it onto my finger. It was a perfect fit. A perfect cage.

"I' ll see you tomorrow at the family dinner," he said, dismissing me.

I walked out of his skyscraper office and back into my life. Or what was left of it. The bus ride home felt unreal. The massive diamond on my finger felt like a brand. I clutched my worn-out purse, the cheap leather cracked and peeling.

I opened the door to the small, cramped apartment I shared with Ethan. The air was stale, smelling of his leftover pizza. He was on the couch, playing a video game, the controller in his hands worth more than my weekly salary.

"Hey, you' re back," he said, not taking his eyes off the screen. "I' m hungry. Did you bring food?"

For three years, I had believed this man. I had believed he was a bankrupt entrepreneur, crushed by millions in debt. I worked three jobs to support us. I was a photographer by day, a waitress by night, and I edited photos for a wedding studio on weekends. Every penny I earned went to paying off his debt, to buying his food, to keeping this roof over our heads.

I remembered the day I found out. It was a week ago. My boss at the photography studio, Brenda, had sent me to cover a high-end charity auction. I was in the back, trying to get a good shot of the stage, when I saw him.

Ethan.

He wasn' t in his usual worn-out jeans and faded t-shirt. He was in a tailored suit that cost more than my car. He was sitting at a front table, a beautiful woman in a slinky red dress beside him. Her name was Sophia Thorne. I knew her from magazine covers. A famous socialite. His childhood sweetheart.

I watched, frozen, as he raised his paddle.

"One million dollars," the auctioneer announced, pointing at Ethan. Jaws dropped around the room. He bought a diamond necklace, the one Sophia had been admiring just moments before. He leaned over and clasped it around her neck, his smile so bright and charming. The same smile he used on me when he needed rent money.

My world shattered. The camera in my hands felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. I couldn' t breathe.

Later that night, Brenda sat with me in her office, a news article pulled up on her computer. "Scarlett, I didn' t know how to tell you."

The headline read: "Tech Heir Ethan Miller Celebrates Fiancée Sophia Thorne' s Birthday with Million-Dollar Gift."

Fiancée.

The article detailed his family' s vast tech empire, his immense personal wealth. It mentioned his three-year "hiatus" from public life. It was all a lie. A game.

I stumbled home, my mind a blank, howling void. I couldn' t feel the cold. I couldn' t feel anything. I just kept seeing his face, his smile for her. The three years of my life, the sacrifices, the exhaustion, the love I had poured into him-it was all a joke.

I confronted him. He didn' t even have the decency to look ashamed.

"It was a test, Scarlett," he said, as if that explained everything. "I had to know you' d be loyal. Sophia was married before, she wasn' t available. I needed someone to wait with. I thought you understood your place."

My place. A placeholder. A stand-in.

The next day, Sophia Thorne found me at the diner where I worked. She walked in like she owned the place, her designer bag swinging.

"So you' re the little charity case," she said, her voice dripping with contempt. She looked me up and down, at my cheap uniform and worn-out shoes.

"He told me all about you. The poor, naive girl who would do anything for him. It was sweet, really. Almost pathetic."

She leaned in closer, her perfume choking me. "Let me give you some advice. People like us don' t mix with people like you. Know your lane and stay in it. He was never going to choose you. He was always coming back to me."

Her words didn' t feel like needles. They felt like a sledgehammer, crushing what was left of my heart. I looked at my reflection in the polished chrome of the napkin dispenser. I saw a tired, foolish girl. I didn' t recognize myself. She had made me feel worthless, like a piece of trash Ethan had used and was now ready to discard.

That' s when the hate started. A cold, hard resolve formed in the wreckage of my heart. He didn' t just break my heart. He stole three years of my life. He made a fool of me.

And now, I would make him pay.