Chapter 3

"Every penny you've spent on me over the past two years, I'll pay it all back."

Theodore's lips curled into a mocking smirk.

"You? Pay me back?" He looked me up and down, his eyes filled with contempt. "You can't even find a job. How do you plan to repay me? By selling yourself?"

In that moment, humiliation washed over me like a tidal wave, nearly drowning me.

"That's none of your business. I'll figure it out myself," I gritted my teeth and shot back.

Isabella took the agreement, quickly scanned it, and burst into laughter.

"Wrong legal references, improper formatting, and even the basic legal terms are messed up." She pointed at a clause in the document. "Did you copy-paste this from some free website template? Or is the Sterling family heiress too broke to hire a lawyer?"

Her mocking laughter stung my nerves, but I straightened my back. "Regardless, I'm serious about this."

Theodore pulled Isabella closer to him.

"Come back to me when you learn how to write a decent divorce agreement. Now get out!"

——

Two weeks later, I found a job in Brooklyn—working as a waitress at an underground bar.

This bar didn't require formal ID, didn't check work history, paid in cash daily, and the tips weren't bad. Most importantly, no one knew my real identity.

"Diana, go serve the VIP room. Those are big clients. Don't slack off," the manager said, pointing to a room on the second floor.

I pushed the door open with a tray in hand, then froze at the entrance.

Theodore sat in the center of the sofa, Isabella nestled against him, surrounded by a few men who looked like business associates.

The air was thick with the stench of smoke and alcohol, their gazes roaming over me shamelessly.

Seeing me, the room fell silent for a moment before they erupting into raucous laughter.

"Isn't this our famous Mrs Harrington?" a man with a gold watch taunted. "What's wrong? Theodore's allowance not enough for you?"

"Or does the Sterling bloodline make her particularly fond of cash gigs?" another chimed in.

Isabella glanced at the name tag on my uniform, a triumphant gleam in her eyes. "Diana? Nice name. Looks like you've finally learned to earn a living on your own."

Theodore said nothing, just stared at me coldly, as if looking at a stranger.

"Since you're here, serve us properly," he said, pointing to the empty glass in front of him. "Pour me a drink."

I bit my lip and walked over, my hands trembling slightly as I poured the drink.

"Kneel," Theodore suddenly ordered.

"What?" My blood rushed to my head.

"Didn't you hear me? Kneel while you pour my drink," his voice was as cold as ice. "Isn't that your job? To serve the guests?"

The men around us started jeering, the air thick with malicious laughter.

"No way in hell!" I snapped through gritted teeth.

"Then get out," Theodore's gaze grew even colder.

Rage completely clouded my judgment. I lifted the glass of red wine in my hand and splashed it across his face.

"I'm not your slave!"

Theodore’s face twisted with anger. He slapped me hard, the sharp sound echoing as my head snapped to the side.

The entire room fell silent, everyone staring at us in shock.

Isabella was the first to react. She grabbed a bottle of tequila from the table, a malicious glint in her eyes.

"Since Diana's got so much backbone, how about a game?" She held up the bottle. "One shot of tequila, ten thousand dollars, paid in cash on the spot. How many can you down?"

I glanced at the stacks of cash on the table, quickly calculating. If I could drink twenty shots, that's two hundred thousand. Enough to pay back everything Theodore spent on me over the years.

Then I could finally leave him.

"Fine," I nodded without hesitation.

Isabella poured the first shot, the amber liquid swirling in the glass. I downed it in one go, the fiery alcohol burning my throat.

One shot, two shots, three shots...

Theodore watched me coldly the entire time, neither stopping me nor showing any emotion. By the fifteenth shot, the world started spinning.

"Enough," I said in a trembling voice, barely able to stand.

Isabella counted the cash on the table. "One hundred fifty thousand. Not a bad number."

Just when I thought I could take the money and leave, Theodore suddenly pulled a document from his suit jacket, signed it on the spot, and tossed the divorce agreement onto the pile of cash.

"Want the money? Want your freedom?" His voice was chilling. "Spend the night with them. All this money and your freedom will be yours."

My blood froze. The hungry gazes around me turned predatory, and the atmosphere in the room suddenly felt dangerous.

"No... Theodore, you can't..." I said weakly.

But he was already standing up, pulling Isabella toward the door.

"Theodore! You can't do this to me!" I rushed toward the door, but a rough hand grabbed my arm and threw me back onto the sofa.

"Don't worry, sweetheart, we'll take good care of you," a man leered, his hand slipping under my clothes.

They tore at my clothes, roughly pinning down my arms and legs. I struggled desperately, my screams drowned out by their laughter.

I heard footsteps fading outside the door, followed by the sound of a key turning in the lock.

"Help... help me..."

A sharp, stabbing pain suddenly shot through my abdomen. I looked down and saw blood pooling between my legs.

No! My child...

——

The next morning, Theodore was in his office handling paperwork when his assistant burst through the door.

"Mr. Harrington, there's a problem..."

Before the assistant could finish, Theodore's phone rang. A news alert popped up on the screen:

"Brooklyn underground bar incident: Woman under alias Diana found dead, police investigating true identity..."

Theodore's phone slipped from his hand, the screen shattering into pieces.