Chapter 3

But I called—again, and again—and Chief Carter didn't pick up.

My fumbling only made me look more guilty in their eyes.

Chloe stepped forward and snatched the phone out of my hand.

"Vivian, stop putting on a show. Who exactly do you think is coming to bail you out?"

Then she drove her heel into my chest.

I crashed backward onto the carpet. Blackness pulsed at the edges of my vision.

When I could see again, Chloe had already thrown herself into Ethan's arms.

She looked down at me, savoring it.

"Ethan, I warned you from the beginning. The ones who look all sweet and innocent? God only knows how filthy they are underneath. Finally believe me now?"

I looked at Ethan, my eyes rimmed red.

Whatever warmth had been there was gone. Completely gone.

Somehow, I dragged myself upright.

Brow furrowed, I stared straight at Chloe.

"What is it, exactly, that you want?"

She let out a cold, delighted laugh.

"What do I *want*? I want you to get what you deserve!"

She pulled out her phone and made a call.

Moments later, several bodyguards Chloe had hired appeared at the front door.

Before I could react, they had me pinned to the floor.

I tried to fight back. They kicked me—hard.

Stars burst behind my eyes. My cashmere coat and dress were ripped away, and I was dragged straight outside.

Snow was falling heavily over the estate.

I was left in nothing but a thin silk slip, shaking uncontrollably in the cold.

When I looked up at Ethan—

There wasn't a shred of pity on his face. Only glacial contempt.

"Vivian. If you weren't decent-looking, and obedient enough, you think I'd have ever dated you?"

"My mother's been hounding me to settle down. That's the only reason I brought you here tonight—to buy me some time. Instead, you humiliated me!"

Every word twisted the knife.

So *that* was why he'd been with me.

Because I was a pretty accessory—compliant, always available.

Soon the wrought-iron gates of the Sinclair estate were crowded with neighbors drawn in by the spectacle.

They came clutching mugs of mulled wine from the Christmas party next door, eager for a show.

Chloe fed on the crowd, raising her voice deliberately.

"Everyone come see! This *bitch* hid the fact that she used to work as an escort so she could marry into the Sinclair family. Caught red-handed—and still won't admit it!"

"Tell me—what's it going to take to teach a filthy little tramp like this a lesson?"

I curled into myself in the snow, bruised and bloodied.

The neighbors from the estate next door whispered, snickered, mocked.

"She *looks* so demure. Who would've guessed she was this shameless underneath?"

"A man like the Sinclair boy? He must be blind to have fallen for garbage like this."

Somewhere in the shouting, someone spat on my face.

I was shivering violently, my skin turning blue, my teeth chattering out of my control.

But the cold in my body was nothing compared to the cold in my chest.

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