I’d spent my entire life living in the shadow of my “it girl” sister, Ava Hayes. Everyone saw me as the odd one out—the black sheep of the wealthy Hayes family. On my eighteenth birthday, one of Ava’s admirers locked me in a walk-in freezer. Only Brandon Blackwood was willing to save me. I thought I’d finally found the love of my life—the kind Mom always talked about. Three years later, at a party thrown by my tormentors, I overheard Brandon say: “Ava said her sister Skylar’s ugly and bitter, but I never expected her to be so desperate in bed. Total trash.” “She doesn’t know that it’s been Julian Thorne sleeping with her all these years, does she?” Brandon’s friend, Leo, asked. “That idiot will never find out. In seven days, once the bet’s up, I’m shipping her off to a cruise ship auction. You guys can have her. Starting bid: one dollar.” “Skylar Hayes has been your girlfriend for three years, Brandon. Can you really be so cruel to her?” “Feeling sorry for her? How about I give her to you then?” Brandon’s voice drifted from the private room—deep, casual, and dripping with that familiar disdain. It was like a rusty blade finally cutting through three years of denial, leaving my chest throbbing with a dull, hollow ache. “Nah, pass. Skylar’s way uglier than any girl I’ve ever dated.” My fists clenched tight. In three years, Brandon had only slept with me three times. Always in the same hotel suite. Always with the lights off. I’d convinced myself he just wasn’t ready to see me fully. Even with his coldness, I’d still begged for his attention. Turns out, his silence wasn’t about me—it was because the guy in bed with me was never him. I thought about last night and nearly gagged. Just then, my sister, Ava Hayes, appeared behind me. “Long time no see, Skylar.” “Enjoying my fiancé while I was studying abroad these past three years?” Ava shoved me into the private room. I stumbled and hit the floor hard. The chatter in the banquet hall died instantly. My thick glasses flew off, revealing my face—bangs matted with sweat, makeup smudged. “I thought this was Ava’s welcome party. Who’s the mess?” Brandon sat at the head of the table, his face twisted in disgust. He had no idea I’d been listening—or what I’d heard. But when he saw Ava behind me, his cold stare melted. Real love can’t be faked. Brandon lost his cool for the first time in front of me. He rushed past me to get to Ava. He brushed a nonexistent raindrop from her cheek. “You’re always so fragile. Why come back in this storm without letting me pick you up? You’ll get sick again.” Ava coughed softly, then pouted at Brandon. She kicked my fallen bag aside like it was trash. Brandon finally noticed me again—but he didn’t see my soaked clothes or my hand, burned red from spilled soup. All he saw was the condom under Ava’s shoe. “Skylar, we just saw each other yesterday. Are you that desperate? You know today’s Ava’s homecoming. Trying to ruin her first night back at the Hayes mansion?” Brandon’s voice turned icy as he glowered down at me. His accusation sent a chill through me—my stomach twisted into knots. The Hayes family had cut off my allowance months ago, diverting every cent to Ava’s account. I worked three part-time jobs just to get by, skipping meals to save money. When Brandon texted asking to meet, I ran through the rain across town just to see him. But he’d forgotten our anniversary again. “Brandon, don’t be harsh. I left for treatment overseas. What happened at the birthday party was an accident—I never blamed her.” Ava was Brandon’s peacemaker. Her words instantly defused his anger. Last month, I collapsed from exhaustion at work and ended up in the ER. Brandon yelled at me for missing his gala. He said we should sleep separately—made me camp on the couch for a month. But the truth? As soon as I was admitted, he booked a flight to Paris to see Ava that same night. “I thought you’d never speak to me again. I’m so glad she could make it. Let’s toast to her return!” Ava’s eyes glinted as she held out a shot glass of vodka. I stared at her face—so like her mother’s, cold and cruel. Before I could grab the glass to smash it, Ava let go. The shards sliced my palm open, blood pooling around my fingers. Ava gasped, clutching Brandon like she’d just seen a ghost. Brandon’s eyes darted to her hand—concern etched on his face as he opened his mouth to yell. “Skylar, three years and you’re still this cruel? Ava’s trying to be nice, and you hurt her? Do you even see her as family?” Family? I laughed bitterly. Ava was the illegitimate child he’d always hated. Brandon looked like he’d rather take the cut himself. He called for a doctor—for Ava. Once, he’d panic if I so much as burned my finger cooking. He’d bandage it with such care, like it was a precious wound. Now, he didn’t even glance at the blood dripping from my hand. “Skylar, chug this bottle and we’ll call it even.” It was Cole—one of Brandon’s lackeys, trying to impress him. Brandon knew I was deathly allergic to alcohol. My mom’s face flashed in my mind—her body lying in a pool of liquor, eyes wide open. A memory I’d never escape. I looked to Brandon for help, but he just held Ava closer, avoiding my gaze. “Skylar, finish it, and I’ll let you off the hook for hurting Ava.”
My palm throbbed, but I couldn’t feel it. I could barely hold the bottle steady. The doctor arrived minutes later, rushing Brandon and Ava to the ER. Brandon gave me a strange look—like he was surprised I hadn’t fought back. Someone pulled out a phone to record the scene. “The Hayes’ ugly duckling is just like her mom—a drunk.” Only Brandon knew about my mom’s forced alcoholism. That night, he held me and said he understood. Then he smashed every bottle in his bar, swearing he’d never touch alcohol again. The liquor burned my throat like acid—three years of poison finally taking its toll. It felt like Brandon was being ripped from my chest, piece by piece. “Enough!” Brandon snatched the bottle from my hand and slammed the phone to the ground. “Skylar, how long are you going to keep pulling this self-destructive crap?” My stomach twisted. My vision blurred. I could barely stand. His blazer fell over me—warm, familiar. He wrapped it around my shoulders. “Skylar, go home. We’ll talk when I get back.” He started to say more, but Ava coughed from the stretcher. Brandon’s face paled. He jumped into the ambulance without a second glance. He stepped right over the ring I’d saved a year to buy—our anniversary ring. My legs gave out. I hit the floor hard. It was just like my eighteenth birthday—me on the ground, frozen, helpless, picking up my mom’s torn photo from the freezer. I’d planned to tell Brandon everything today. I don’t know how long I was out. My phone lit up in the middle of the night. A Snap from Brandon. The photo showed two hands intertwined, with an open condom packet beside them. [Thanks for keeping Brandon warm for three years. I’m back now.] [We’re getting engaged in seven days.] The conversation from the private room flooded back. The bet: the loser had to date me and make me fall in love with him. Brandon lost that bet on my eighteenth birthday. They all praised him for staying “faithful”—for saving himself for Ava. But as soon as she was back, he couldn’t wait to break that promise. Ava had used Brandon’s phone to lure me to the party. I should have been furious, but that bottle of liquor had burned away every last bit of my love. “Mr. Sterling, I told Grandpa I’d come back after the competition ends in seven days.” I slid into the Bentley parked at the end of the alley. I grabbed a hair clip to pin back my bangs, then wiped my face clean with a makeup remover wipe. The car window reflected a face I barely recognized—sharp, beautiful, and dangerous. “Skylar, you look just like your mother now.” Mr. Sterling stared at me, stunned. After a moment, he tossed my wet clothes into the trash. “It can’t have been easy, living with the Hayes all these years.”
I didn’t go home to wait for Brandon. I went back to my apartment. That night, I came down with a fever. Someone had left medicine for me. It helped bring my fever down. As soon as I could stand, I buried myself in my competition project. I didn’t even blink when I saw the news—Brandon had rented out an entire mall for Ava. Three days later, I went back to school. Ava was sitting in my seat. She was curled up next to Brandon, laughing like she owned the place. I looked away, ignoring the dull ache in my chest. I handed Brandon his dry-cleaned suit. But he snapped. His fingers dug into my wrist, keeping me from leaving. “Skylar, what’s your problem now? I took care of the guy who made you drink. Where’ve you been? Who’ve you been with?” He was the one who made me drink. Now he was taking credit for fixing it. I frowned, confused. His grip was cutting off my circulation. Gasps filled the room. “Is that Skylar? The one who gets picked up by old men in fancy cars?” “She’s not even that hot. What’s she got on him?” “She’s been MIA for three days. When she got out of the car, she could barely walk—and she was wearing a different dress.” The classroom screen lit up with photos: me being forced to drink, my uncle helping me into the car… And finally, a photo of me in a hotel bed—naked, blurred, but recognizable. “Like mother, like daughter. Skylar drinks and sleeps around just like her mom.” Room 1206 was Brandon’s suite. Those photos couldn’t have been taken without his permission. Had he been watching me this whole time? Taking photos while I slept? Brandon looked just as shocked. He yelled for someone to turn off the screen. But it was too late. The photos were already all over the school’s social media. My ears rang. I remembered my dad slamming fake nude photos of my mom into her face. “Skylar, stop!” Brandon slapped me. The force turned my head to the side. Blood trickled from my lip—I’d bitten it raw during the panic. Brandon stared at my cheek. He tried to touch it, but pulled back. His voice was rough. “Skylar, who was that man? Tell me, and I’ll forget about you disappearing.” My chest ached—not for him, but for the girl I used to be. With Brandon, I’d never had even a shred of trust. “Brandon, that was my uncle. He came to tell me Grandpa is dying. He wants me to come home for the funeral.” “Happy now?” I held up the only photo Grandpa had ever given me, staring Brandon down. It was a family photo—my uncle, Grandpa, and Mom. Brandon froze. His fingers trembled as he held the photo. Ava looped her arm through his, her voice sweet and innocent. “Skylar’s always been with the Hayes. Where would she get an uncle or grandpa? I’ve never seen them.” “This photo’s fake. The faces are all blurry.” Brandon’s phone buzzed. His assistant’s message erased any doubt. Grandpa’s family had hidden our relationship to protect me. “Skylar, you’re still lying? Using a fake photo to trick me?” His words were cold, sharp. He met my eyes—and tore the photo in half. The pieces fluttered to the floor. I dropped to my knees to pick them up, scraping my skin raw. “Skylar, you’re such a liar. I should’ve left you in that freezer.” But he didn’t know the truth. When I was twelve, I saved a boy from drowning. He’d been pushed into the lake by Brandon’s half-brother.
Brandon walked over the photo, his shoe pressing down on my hand. He wanted me to beg. Like I always did. He threw the bracelet I’d made him into the trash. But he didn’t move out of our apartment. And he never mentioned the engagement. I was in a taxi on my way to the competition. I didn’t have time to care about Brandon—and I didn’t want to. Their engagement was all over the news. The photos showed Brandon and Ava looking perfect together. Brandon once said he’d marry into the Hayes family for business. He kept his promise. Just not with me. I traced the taped photo, smiling sadly. After today, it would all be over. I’d go back to A City and never see Brandon again. The taxi hit a patch of ice. The driver slammed on the brakes. I hit the seat hard. Then everything went black. When I woke up, the world was spinning. I felt sick to my stomach. A hand grabbed my hair, yanking my head back. “This is the one? She’s not even worth the trouble. Is this really Skylar Hayes?” “Brandon said to scare her—not actually sell her. Just teach her a lesson.” When they threw me onto the deck, I realized where I was—a cruise ship. A party boat for rich kids to drink and hook up. I bit my lip until it bleed, forcing myself to stay awake. People were being paraded onto the stage, auctioned off like prizes. “Is that Brandon? He’s engaged to Ava today. Who’s this girl?” The guard stared at his phone, frowning. To them, the Hayes family only had one daughter. At the engagement party, Ava wore a white gown. She looked like a princess. Brandon stood beside her in a silver suit. He looked older, colder. They kissed as the crowd cheered.
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