Chapter2

I was on my way to the grocery store when Sarah sent me a message.

[Chloe, Celia posted pictures of the dress in the group chat. She said she was going to wear it to the Gala tonight to steal the show.]*

I couldn't wait any longer. No matter how high the insurance payout for that gown was, it could never replace the only piece my mother had left behind.

Pristine white marble paved the terrace of the Grand Hotel.

I pushed through the revolving doors and instantly spotted Celia at the center of the crowd. She wore the gown that should have been locked in my closet, surrounded by a circle of wealthy heirs holding up their phones. There were a few familiar faces in the crowd—law school classmates, regulars from the business school—but not a single one looked my way. Liam had his arm wrapped around her waist, his chin tilted slightly upward.

"This dress is absolutely stunning!" a blonde girl exclaimed.

Celia looked down and tugged at the hem. "The skirt is just too long. I almost tripped walking in here."

"That's an easy fix."

Liam smiled, pulled a cigar cutter from his suit's inner pocket, and crouched down.

I shoved through the crowd and grabbed his wrist.

"This belongs to me, and you cannot afford to pay for it."

The scene fell totally silent for two seconds before erupting into roaring laughter.

"The scholarship girl who can't even afford a large coffee is telling us we can't afford something?"

Liam shook off my hand. "Chloe, did you seriously stalk me all the way here? Celia's dress is worth six figures. A pathetic student like you, surviving on a full ride, can't even afford to touch that fabric! Even now, you're trying to pull this scamming stunt to disgust her?"

"Give the dress back," I stared dead at Celia. "It's my mother's heirloom, a one-of-a-kind 18th-century royal piece. Take it off right now, and I can pretend this never happened."

"An heirloom?" Celia sneered out loud. "A broke student like you actually owns a one-of-a-kind royal piece?"

"I'm going to say this one more time—"

"Enough."

Liam cut me off and raised the cigar cutter again.

"Since you love making up stories so much, I'll cut it right in front of your face."

"Don't touch it!"

I lunged forward, but two guys grabbed my arms from both sides, pinning me back. My knees slammed brutally against the floor tiles with a dull thud.

Snap.

That panel of lace was severed right at the seam, dropping to the floor.

The crowd erupted into immediate cheers.

Celia stood on her tiptoes and kissed Liam. "Thanks, babe. That feels so much better now."

Liam walked over to me, looking down from his high horse.

"See that? It's just a dress. Not your royal heirloom."

I clenched my fists. "Give it back—that's what my mom left me."

"Give it back?" He crouched down. "How long are you going to keep up this act? Since this hand wants things so badly, let's just ruin it."

He lifted his foot and stomped viciously on my right hand against the floor.

"Argh—"

Cold sweat instantly soaked my back. The hard sole of his leather shoe ground into my knuckles, twisting forcefully back and forth.

"That is to teach you to know your place in society," he said, casting his eyes down at my twisted expression. "Stay away from Celia from now on."

He pulled back his foot. "Throw her across the street. Don't pollute Celia's eyes."

The two guys grabbed me by the back of my collar, dragged me across the crosswalk, and violently pitched me into a snowbank across the street.

I lay in the snow, my right hand so swollen that I couldn't even lift it.

Across the street, the LED screen was scrolling through the Gala's interactive wall. A photo projected into the night sky—Celia, wearing the mutilated gown, kissing Liam passionately under the lights.

The caption read: [True love is completely destroying rules for me.]

The like count skyrocketed like crazy.

I tilted my head back, staring at that photo, and laughed.

It didn't matter. Every single face in that crowd, every word of mockery, the brutal injury from Liam's shoe grinding over my fingers—it was all evidence.

[Your death sentence has just been signed.]