That night, Tristan Sterling shoved me out of his car, my clothes in disarray, my skin covered with fresh love bites. People on the sidewalk raised their phones and whispered, “Isn’t that the Vance heiress? Did Tristan Sterling get tired of her and dump her on the side of the road?” I bit my lip until I tasted blood, hailed a cab, and told the driver to follow his car. I needed to see the woman who could make him abandon me without a second thought. Half an hour later, through the hotel window, I watched him take off his coat and gently wrap it around a woman wearing nothing but pajamas before carefully lifting her into his arms and carrying her inside. At that exact moment, a news alert flashed across my phone: “Sterling Group CEO Tristan Sterling Spotted Picking Up a Mysterious Woman Late at Night—Rumors Swirl That His Former Love Has Returned.” The next second, I dialed my father’s number. “I’m accepting the arranged marriage.” Scarlett’s POV I was known as the most stunning, wild IT-girl in New York’s high society. Tristan Sterling, on the other hand, was the youngest billionaire kingpin in the city. Cold, ruthless, and absolutely lethal. Nobody knew that we, two people who seemingly had nothing to do with each other, would kiss passionately in the dark of night. Nobody knew we made love by the floor-to-ceiling windows of his penthouse. Or that he would grip my waist in the back of his black Maybach until my legs went completely numb. Tristan leaned down, his breath hot against my ear, whispering with a dark chuckle. “The partition is up. The driver can’t hear a thing. What are you so shy about?” “Scarlett, relax. Say my name.” “Tristan…” I called his name, my voice thick with embarrassment. The usually cold, untouchable man smiled with dark satisfaction. His movements grew wilder, and I wrapped my arms around him, my eyes filled with hopeless love. Just as we finished, a sharp notification chimed on his phone. Tristan pulled out his screen. I caught a glimpse of the contact name: “Chloe.” Tristan, I have a fever. I feel so sick… The moment he read that message, the passion in Tristan’s eyes vanished. Instantly. He ordered the driver to pull over, pushed the door open, and practically threw me out before I could even fix my clothes. “An emergency came up at the office. I have to go. Take a cab home.” I knew exactly who Chloe was. She was the woman he actually loved. She had been recovering in a European clinic for years and had just returned. As he went to shut the door, I suddenly grabbed his hand. My eyes, normally so bright, pleaded with him. “Can’t you stay? Just this once?” His eyes darkened. “Scarlett, be good. Don’t throw a tantrum.” He brushed my hand off and slammed the door. The black Maybach sped away into the night. I was left standing on the curb, my clothes disheveled, my pale skin covered in fresh red marks. Several passing men stared at me, their eyes filthy. “Isn’t that Scarlett Vance?” “Wow, the Vance heiress is really wild. Dumped on the side of the road looking like that!” “I wonder how much she charges for a night. With a body like that, it must be insane…” Their sleazy whispers felt like invisible hands, stripping away the last of my dignity. I bit my lip, quickly adjusted my coat, and immediately hailed a cab to follow Tristan. I wanted to see what this Chloe looked like. I wanted to see the woman who could pull him away with a single text right after we made love, leaving me to be laughed at by the whole city. Half an hour later, my cab stopped outside a luxury hotel. Through the window, I watched Chloe run out of the lobby wearing nothing but a thin silk slip. Tristan rushed forward. He took off his heavy wool coat, wrapped her in it, and swept her up into his arms. Sitting in the back of the cab, watching him carry Chloe into the hotel, my mind drifted back to how we first met. It was right after I returned from studying abroad. I had crashed my car, a limited-edition Pagani, directly into Tristan’s. My father was so furious he dragged me to Tristan’s office to beg for forgiveness. Behind his wire-rimmed glasses, Tristan’s eyes were ice-cold. He said, “Paying for the damages is pointless. Neither of our families lacks money. But if you truly want to apologize, Mr. Vance, let Scarlett work as my personal assistant. It’s time she learned some work ethic.” Tristan was famous for being a tyrant. Everyone knew that anyone who survived his training came out disciplined and submissive. My father, desperate to tame my wild streak, agreed instantly. Just like that, he threw me to the wolf. Of course, I didn’t go quietly. I tried every trick in the book to annoy him. On my first day, I spilled hot espresso all over his bespoke Savile Row suit. Tristan barely blinked. “Bespoke Swiss tailoring. Put it on the Vance family tab.” On the second day, I ran his most important merger contract through the paper shredder. With a straight face, Tristan simply drafted a new one right in front of me. The new terms were even harsher than the original. On the third day, I spiked his coffee. I wanted to record him losing control so I could blackmail him into letting me go. I didn’t expect that I would end up being his only cure. I wanted to kill him afterward, but Tristan just pinned me against the glass window of his office, making love to me until I couldn’t breathe. “Scarlett,” he whispered, kissing my earlobe, his voice dark and gravelly. “Stop fighting me. Be a good girl.” That single “Scarlett” made my heart skip a beat. It sent a delicious shiver down my spine. Except for my mother, who had died years ago, no one had spoken to me with such exasperated, protective tenderness in a very long time. After that night, everything changed. Every time I caused trouble, Tristan would carry me into his private lounge. Outside, his staff thought I was getting a lecture. In reality, he locked the door and made love to me until I begged for mercy. Slowly, I realized I was getting addicted. Was it because he was too good in bed? Or was I just desperate for someone to care about me? I didn’t know. All I knew was that I was done for. I had fallen for him. Hard. We kept up this toxic, beautiful arrangement for eight months. I actually thought he liked me. So, three days ago, I decided to take a leap. I wanted to ask him to be my actual boyfriend. I spent the whole day decorating my penthouse. Roses, candles, even a pair of custom-designed rings. But I waited all night. I watched the candles burn down to nothing. He never showed up. At 2:00 AM, my phone buzzed with a breaking news alert on Instagram. Billionaire Tristan Sterling Spotted Welcoming Mystery Woman at JFK Airport Late at Night. In the photo, Tristan was carefully shielding a girl in a white dress, his eyes softer than I had ever seen them. The comments section was blowing up. “Is that Tristan and Chloe? The golden couple from Princeton!” “I went to college with them! Tristan was cold to everyone except Chloe. If she hadn’t gone abroad for medical treatment, they’d probably be married by now!” “Exactly! Chloe is his one true love. He hasn’t touched another woman since she left.”
Scarlett’s POV Reading those comments felt like falling into an arctic lake. If Tristan had always had someone else in his heart, what was I? A convenient warm body? A high-end toy? I didn’t want to believe it. I told myself there had to be an explanation. But now, seeing Tristan carry Chloe into that hotel with my own eyes, I couldn’t play pretend anymore. My eyes stung, and a sharp, physical pain bloomed in my chest. But I didn’t jump out of the cab. I didn’t scream, and I didn’t make a scene. Instead, I pulled out my phone and called my father. “You wanted me to marry that crippled billionaire in San Francisco, right? Fine. I’ll do it.” “Are you serious, Scarlett?” My father’s voice practically squealed with excitement. I felt a wave of disgust. “I have one condition.” “Anything! Just name it!” “I’ll tell you when I get home.” I hung up and took one last look at the hotel entrance. My pride wouldn’t let me crawl to Tristan and beg for answers. I wouldn’t ask him why he slept with me for eight months while loving someone else. Men like him were just like my father. Unfaithful, garbage human beings. I would just treat this past year like a bad fever dream. I gave the driver my father’s address. The moment I walked into the Vance estate, my father rushed over. “You’re really agreeing to the San Francisco marriage? What is your condition? Tell me.” My stepmother, Winona, stood beside him, her eyes gleaming with greed. “My condition is simple,” I said, my voice steady. “I want to legally cut ties with you. I want a total severance of our relationship.” The air in the room froze. My father’s face turned purple. “Are you insane?! Do you hear what you’re saying?” “Perfectly,” I cold-smiled. “You cheated on my mother. You brought this cheap woman into our house and drove my mother to jump off a building. The day she died, I stopped recognizing you as my father anyway.” I stared at his flushed face. “Now, the Sinclair family in San Francisco is offering a ten-billion-dollar merger deal for a bride. You don’t care that the guy is in a wheelchair. You don’t care about my happiness. You’ve been trying to force me into this for two months.” “If I didn’t agree today, you would have drugged me and shipped me there yourself, wouldn’t you?” “You’re a selfish monster. You killed your wife, and now you’re selling your daughter to a disabled man. Why should I keep your last name?” I sneered. “Besides, once I’m gone, you can finally bring your mistress’s daughter into this house. You three can play happy family.” My father trembled with rage. “Fine. We will cut ties. But you are getting on that plane to San Francisco in two weeks. They are coming to collect you.” He paused, then spat, “And as for Winona’s daughter, Chloe, she is already back. I only kept her away to spare your dramatic feelings. Since you are being so cooperative, she is moving in tonight.” I laughed out loud. “Raising another man’s kid while selling your own biological daughter. You really are a special kind of trash.” “Because Chloe is nothing like you! She is sweet, polite, and respectful! All you do is scream and ruin my reputation!” My chest throbbed with pain, but I forced my chin up. “Great! Since she’s so perfect, go ahead and adopt her. From today on, we are strangers.” I turned to walk upstairs. Winona stepped in front of me, pretending to be the victim. “Scarlett, how can you talk to your father like that? The Vance Group is struggling. He’s only doing this marriage alliance to save us. Can’t you show some gratitude?” I stopped. I looked at her, the hatred I had suppressed for years boiling over. “What? Now that I’m leaving, you think you can play the lady of the house and lecture me?” I took a step closer, crowding her. “Listen to me, Winona. Even if my mother and I are gone, it doesn’t change the fact that you are a cheap home-wrecker. Your daughter can inherit this whole house, but she will always be the offspring of a mistress.” Winona’s face went pale. She couldn’t find a single word to say. My father lost his mind. He rushed over and slapped me across the face. The loud slap echoed in the foyer. I had insulted him, and he was just angry. But the moment I insulted Winona, he resorted to violence. This was my father. He would hit his own flesh and blood to protect his mistress. I held my burning left cheek, my eyes dry. I didn’t even feel disappointment anymore. Just absolute, dead silence. I didn’t say another word. I turned and walked up to my room. Once the door was shut, my knees buckled, and I slid down to the floor, burying my face in my knees. I let myself cry. I let all the hurt and betrayal wash over me. When I was done, I wiped my tears, got up, and dragged out my suitcase. I packed only the things that truly belonged to me. Tristan was gone. This house was gone. I was leaving it all behind. As I dragged my suitcase downstairs, I saw maids carrying pink luggage into the house. “Whose stuff is this?” I asked the butler. The butler whispered nervously, “Miss Vance, it’s… Chloe’s…” Before he could finish, a familiar figure appeared at the door. Chloe, wearing her innocent white dress, stood there looking fragile.
Scarlett’s POV My mind went blank. My blood turned to ice. I never expected that Winona’s daughter, the one recovering in Europe all these years, was Chloe. Tristan’s Chloe. The next second, Chloe smiled sweetly and walked toward me, trying to hug me. “Scarlett. I’m Chloe. We’re going to be sisters now.” Before she could touch me, I shoved her away. “Get away from me! We are not family.” Chloe stumbled back, looking deeply hurt. “Scarlett… do you really hate me that much?” “Scarlett! Where are your manners?!” my father bellowed, rushing over. “Chloe was just trying to be nice! Why did you push her?” “I’ve never had manners. You knew that.” “You!” My father shook with rage but couldn’t do anything. He looked at my suitcase. “So, you’re moving out?” “You brought your mistress and her bastard daughter into my mother’s house. Of course I’m leaving. The air in here is making me sick.” My father sneered. “Fine! Chloe actually loves your bedroom anyway. Since you’re leaving, your room belongs to her now.” I didn’t waste another breath. I grabbed my suitcase and walked out the door. Behind me, my father yelled, “Go! But don’t you dare forget what you promised! You are marrying Sinclair in two weeks!” “Don’t worry. I keep my word.” I didn’t look back. I went straight to the penthouse suite of the most expensive hotel in Manhattan and checked in. Over the next few days, I went on a reckless shopping spree. Bespoke diamond necklaces, limited-edition designer bags, luxury cars. I bought everything without looking at the price. I didn’t know if I was venting my pain or trying to drain my father’s bank account. My phone vibrated constantly in my bag. I ignored every call. But when I returned to the hotel lobby carrying a dozen luxury shopping bags, I found my suitcases piled up near the front desk. “What is the meaning of this?” I demanded. The receptionist looked apologetic. “I’m sorry, Miss Vance. Your black card was declined. According to hotel policy, we had to check you out.” My phone buzzed. A text from my father popped up: Since you want to cut ties, don’t use my money. I’ve frozen all your accounts. I’m also sending people to confiscate everything you just bought today! I stared at the screen until my eyes burned. I texted back: Go ahead. Freeze my accounts? Take my things? Fine. I would just make sure that when Damian Sinclair’s people came to pick me up, the ten-billion-dollar dowry went directly into my personal account, not the Vance Group’s. My father’s company was drowning. Without that money, he would go bankrupt. I couldn’t wait to see if Winona and Chloe would stay with an old, bankrupt man. My phone buzzed again. This time, it was Tristan. Why aren’t you at the office today? I ignored it, tucking the phone away, and dragged my suitcase down the street. The Sinclair family wasn’t picking me up for another ten days. Where was I supposed to live? How was I supposed to eat? I had zero cash. Eventually, my legs gave out. I dragged myself under a bridge near Central Park, planning to just huddle there for the night. But the moment I sat down, a sketchy-looking man crept closer. “Hey, pretty girl. All alone?” “Get lost!” “Don’t be like that. Let’s have some fun.” His filthy hand reached for my shoulder. I raised my hand to slap him. “Ahhh!” A sickening crack echoed. I didn’t even see him arrive. Tristan was suddenly there, twisting the man’s wrist until the bone snapped. Before I could react, Tristan grabbed my arm and threw me and my suitcase into the back of his Maybach. “Let me go!” “Are you fighting with your father again?” Tristan gripped my wrists, his voice low and dangerous. “You’re homeless, and you didn’t think to call me?” His words made my throat tighten. In the past, whenever I fought with my dad, Tristan would search the whole city, find me, and carry me back to his place. “Did he hurt you?” he would always ask. “Why didn’t you come to me?” Back then, I actually believed he cared. But now… He had a whole woman in his heart, yet he kept me in his bed. He was just as disgusting as my father. And out of all the women in the world, why did it have to be Chloe? Why her? “Let me go!” I screamed, biting his hand hard. He flinched but didn’t let go. He stepped on the gas and drove off.
Scarlett’s POV The black Maybach pulled into Tristan’s private estate. He grabbed my suitcase and opened the front door, his voice calm as if nothing had happened. “Just like before. Stay here until you cool off.” I stood at the threshold, my hands clenched into fists. “I’m only staying for ten days. After that, I’m leaving New York, and I will never bother you again.” Tristan froze. “Never bother me again?” He turned around, his eyes dark and unreadable behind his glasses. “Are you sure you can actually do that?” His words felt like a physical blow to my chest. He knew. He had watched me change from a rebellious girl who hated him to a woman who was helplessly in love with him. He knew how much I loved him. Yet, knowing that, he kept his “one true love” in his heart while watching me drown in his bed. My nails dug into my palms. I looked up, staring straight into his cold eyes. “Did you know Chloe is my stepmother’s daughter?” Tristan slowly loosened his tie. “I found out recently.” I was silent for a long time. The silence was suffocating, but I couldn’t stop myself from asking: “What is she to you?” Tristan took off his tie, his movements relaxed. “She was my classmate. Years ago, she saved my life in a car accident. Her health has been fragile ever since, which is why she was recovering abroad.” He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly in a quiet warning. “I know you hate your stepmother. But Chloe has nothing to do with that. Don’t take it out on her.” Chloe. How tenderly he said her name. A dull ache spread through my chest. I didn’t say another word. I turned, went upstairs, and locked myself in the guest room. That night, Tristan didn’t push my door open. He didn’t pin me to the mattress. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling with a bitter smile. His true love was back. Of course he had no use for me now. Which was perfect. I couldn’t bear the thought of sleeping with a man who was thinking of another woman anyway. It made me want to throw up. For the next five days, I actively avoided him. I only went downstairs after he left for work, and I went to bed before he came home. We lived under the same roof, but we were like ghosts passing in the dark. But I was never the type to sit quietly. After five days of isolation, I was going stir-crazy. On the sixth afternoon, an acquaintance from our social circle called me. “Scarlett! Where have you been? We’re having a party at the club tonight. You coming?” I was bored out of my mind. “Sure. I’ll be there.” At 8:00 PM, I arrived at the club. I walked down the dimly lit VIP hallway and pushed open the door to the private suite. I froze. My friends weren’t there. Tristan was sitting on the leather sofa, holding a glass of red wine. Beside him sat Chloe. Chloe was leaning in close, whispering something to him with a bright, beautiful smile. Several of Tristan’s wealthy friends were lounging around them. The moment I opened the door, everyone looked at me. One of the guys smirked. “Well, look who it is. The wild Miss Vance.” “Sorry. Wrong room,” I said, turning to leave. “Scarlett!” Chloe called out, rushing over to grab my arm. “Where have you been? Your father is worried sick!” I looked at Tristan. His face was a mask of cold indifference. He hadn’t told Chloe that I was staying at his villa. Of course he hadn’t. If Chloe found out, it would ruin his clean image. He didn’t want his precious angel to know how he had been ravishing me in his bed for the past eight months.
Scarlett’s POV As I stood there lost in my thoughts, Chloe squeezed my hand tightly, acting like a loving sister. “Scarlett, stop fighting with your dad. He hasn’t eaten since you ran away. He’s lost so much weight.” Chloe looked at me with puppy-dog eyes. “Even if you’re angry, you shouldn’t sleep around or stay at cheap motels. Come home with me, apologize to him, okay?” Looking at her face, which resembled Winona’s, my stomach turned. I shoved her hand off me. “You’re a nobody who has zero Vance blood. My fights with my father are none of your business. Why are you acting like you own me?” Chloe gasped, her eyes immediately welling up with tears. She looked at Tristan as if she had been physically assaulted. Tristan frowned, set his wine glass down, and walked over. “Chloe is only trying to mend your relationship with your father,” he said, his voice deep and stern. “Even if you don’t appreciate it, you don’t need to attack her.” He paused, his voice leaving no room for argument. “Apologize to Chloe.” He wanted me to apologize to her? My heart twisted. I looked up at him, letting out a mocking laugh. “Who do you think you are, Tristan? Just because you tell me to do something, you think I’m going to obey like a dog?” Tristan’s frown deepened. The annoyance in his eyes was clear. Ever since he took me in to “teach me rules,” I had never dared to openly defy him like this. Chloe quickly grabbed Tristan’s arm, playing the martyr. “It’s fine, Tristan. Scarlett hates me and my mom. It’s natural she’d say mean things. I shouldn’t have interfered. I really have no right.” I sneered. “At least you know your place.” I turned on my heel and walked out. I found the other suite where my actual acquaintances were drinking. “Hey! Scarlett’s here!” someone yelled. “We thought you went off the grid!” I grabbed a shot of tequila and slammed it down, staying silent. But within ten minutes, the heavy oak door was kicked open. Tristan stood at the entrance, radiating pure, suffocating anger. He swept his cold eyes over the room. “Get the hell out. Now.” Seeing his face, my friends didn’t even dare to grab their coats. They scrambled out of the room like rats. The door slammed shut. Tristan loosened his tie as he walked toward me. Sensing danger, I shrank back into the sofa. “What do you think you’re doing?” “Making love to you,” he said flatly. I froze. I couldn’t believe this sophisticated, refined man had just said something so crude. Before I could recover, Tristan was towering over me. I tried to slide away, but he pinned me down into the leather cushions. Using his silk tie, he bound my wrists together in a tight knot and pinned them above my head. “Let me go!” I thrashed wildly. “Tristan, you’re a bastard!” He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Have I spoiled you too much lately? Is that why you think you can disrespect my words?” I knew he was talking about Chloe. “Chloe’s mother is a disgusting whore, and so is she! Why should I apologize to a parasite?” I spat. Tristan’s face turned lethal. “It seems I haven’t disciplined you enough. You still don’t know your place.” He slid his hand up my thigh, lifting my dress. “Let me remind you tonight.” I stared at him in horror. “Stop! Don’t touch me!” Tristan let out a dark chuckle. “It’s not like this is our first time, Scarlett. Why are you playing the virgin?” He leaned down, his warm breath sending chills down my neck. “Have you forgotten how loud you scream my name under me?” My face went completely white. The humiliation was overwhelming. Before, when we made love, I thought he cared about me, so I gave him everything. But now, he was using those intimate moments to degrade me. I glared at him with pure hatred. “Chloe is right next door. If you touch me here, aren’t you afraid she’ll walk in and see?” Tristan’s eyes were pitch-black. “That is none of your concern.” With that, he took me brutally. A tear slipped down my cheek as a sob tore from my throat. “You’re a monster, Tristan! You’re a disgusting piece of trash!” I fought against the restraints, kicking and screaming. “Get off me! Don’t touch me!” But the more I fought, the more ruthless his movements became.
Scarlett’s POV My throat was hoarse from screaming. My face was stained with tears, and my wrists were bruised from the silk tie. Tristan calmly buttoned his shirt and adjusted his cuffs, immediately reverting back to the cold, sophisticated billionaire. It was as if the beast from a minute ago had never existed. Meanwhile, I lay there with my dress torn and my hair wild, looking utterly broken. Tristan looked down at me, his eyes dark. “I prefer you like this, helpless. Not loud and arrogant.” A wave of intense humiliation washed over me. The tears wouldn’t stop flowing. Seeing me like this, his expression softened slightly. “Scarlett, be good.” He leaned down, untying my wrists and kissing the tears from my eyes. “If you just listen to me, I won’t have to be so rough.” I jerked my head away from his lips, letting out a cold laugh. “In your dreams.” I used to listen to him because I thought he cared. I thought we had something real. Now I knew I was just a physical outlet. “Tristan, you are a hypocrite and a coward,” I whispered, my voice cracked. “You love Chloe, yet you keep me in your bed. You’re disgusting. I hate you.” Tristan stiffened, his eyes narrowing. “Disgusting?” Before he could say more, his phone rang. He frowned and answered it. A panicked voice came through the speaker. “Tristan! Where are you? Some drunk guys are harassing Chloe in the VIP lounge! Get over here now!” Tristan’s face fell. He hung up and looked at me. “I’ll finish disciplining you at home.” With that, he turned and ran out, leaving me shivering and ruined on the sofa. Watching him run to her, my heart finally shattered into dust. It was always the same. The second Chloe needed him, I was garbage to be thrown away. I bit my lip, forcing myself to stop crying. Men like him didn’t deserve my tears. I spent a long time cleaning myself up, fixing my dress and hair until I looked presentable before walking out of the suite. At the end of the hallway, a loud commotion was happening. I saw Tristan shielding Chloe behind him. Two drunk men were lying on the floor, groaning in pain. He was beating them mercilessly, his face contorted with a primal rage I had never seen before. Chloe, sensing my presence, turned her head. Our eyes met. A slow, victorious smirk spread across her lips. I ignored her, walking right past them with a blank face. I walked out of the club and stood on the curb, waiting for a cab. The cold night wind blew, chilling me to the bone. I wrapped my arms around myself. “Scarlett.” A soft, weak voice called out behind me. I turned. It was Chloe. She walked over, looking concerned. “Scarlett, you don’t have a car? Let me drive you home.” I looked at the keys in her hand. A brand-new Porsche. My father was indeed generous to his stepdaughter. “No thanks,” I said coldly. “Riding in a mistress’s daughter’s car makes me feel dirty.” Chloe’s sweet facade dropped instantly. “Who are you calling a mistress? Scarlett, say that again!” “Your mother is a home-wrecking whore. If you like hearing it, I can repeat it all night.” As we argued, a pair of blinding headlights suddenly rounded the corner. An out-of-control SUV was speeding directly toward us. In that split second, Tristan rushed out of the club. Without a single hesitation, he threw his arms around Chloe and pulled her out of the way. And I… Crash. The impact threw me onto the hard asphalt. I lay in a pool of my own blood, my vision fading. I could hear distant screams and running footsteps, but I couldn’t tell who they belonged to. As darkness took over, my mind flashed back to last winter. After a massive fight with my father, I had run to my mother’s grave. I sat there in the snow, crying until I fell asleep. When I woke up, I was wrapped in a warm wool coat. Tristan had found me. He held me tightly against his chest, shielding me from the freezing wind. He had looked down at me and said, “Whenever you’re hurt, come to me. Don’t carry it alone.” Those were the sweetest words I had ever heard. I had cried into his chest like a child, believing that after my mother’s death, I finally had someone who loved me. But now… The man who promised to protect me had chosen to save another woman, leaving me to die on the street.
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