Chapter 1

The mud was cold on my skin, caked under my nails. My clothes were rags, barely covering me. I don't know how long I walked after I got away, just that the sun was coming up when a black car screeched to a halt. Ethan Cole got out, Alex Vanderbilt's head of security. His face was stone, like always. Then Alex himself stepped out of the car, his expensive shoes stopping a few feet from my bare, bleeding ones. He looked at me, and his lip curled. "God, Sarah, what happened to you?" It wasn't concern in his voice, it was disgust. I flinched, my whole body shaking. I tried to speak, but only a croak came out. Ethan moved then, a silent wall between me and Alex. He took off his jacket and gently put it around my shoulders. It smelled clean, like soap, not like the filth I'd lived in for months. "We need to get her back to the manor, Mr. Vanderbilt," Ethan said, his voice low. Alex just nodded, already turning back to the car, eager to be away from the sight of me. I was a mess, an ugly thing he didn't want to look at. I remembered a time, seven long years, when all I wanted was for Alex to look at me. Now, his gaze felt like a brand. Ethan helped me into the car, his touch surprisingly gentle. I huddled in the corner, trying to make myself small, invisible. The ride was silent, except for my chattering teeth. Back at the Vanderbilt estate, I was a ghost in my old life. Mrs. Vanderbilt cried when she saw me, Mr. Vanderbilt looked pale and shocked. But Alex, he just looked annoyed, like I was an inconvenience he had to deal with. He was the reason I was taken, his family's wealth the lure. He was also the reason they kept me so long, his slow, deliberate negotiations for the ransom. Four hundred thousand dollars. That was the price for my life, a sum they argued over while I suffered. I knew, even then, I could never forgive him. My parents, before they died, had left me a trust fund. The amount? Four hundred thousand dollars. A coincidence that burned in my gut. Their love, a lifeline they never knew they were giving me. And the Vanderbilts, my guardians, they knew about it. Alex knew. He'd let me rot, probably hoping they wouldn't have to pay at all. Jessica Hayes, Alex's assistant, his lover, she was there too, her eyes cold and assessing. She'd always hated me, seen my infatuation with Alex as a pathetic joke. I could feel her satisfaction now, seeing me broken. Ethan was the one who led me upstairs, away from their pity and disgust. He didn't say much, but his presence was a steady, quiet thing in the chaos of my return. He was just doing his job, I told myself. But a small part of me, the part that wasn't entirely dead, clung to that quiet strength. He was a witness to my ruin, and somehow, that felt less lonely than being surrounded by people who claimed to care but had let me be destroyed.