Damon Blackwood’s first love—the one he was always meant to have—was finally back in New York. They had been locked in a volatile, toxic dance of love and hatred for over a decade, their relationship all-consuming and messy. And me? I had been Damon Blackwood’s gilded cage pet for three long years. On Day One, Tori Harrington publicly humiliated me by trying to tear my dress off. Damon’s eyes shifted slightly, but he said nothing. On Day Two, Tori slapped me across the face, left, then right. Damon simply asked her if her hand was sore. On Day Three, Tori aimed a gun at my stomach, threatening to shoot the child I carried. Damon cupped her hand, guiding her aim. When I demanded to know why he was doing this, he said: “Using you to keep Tori happy is a price I’m willing to pay. You’re worth the trade.” Honestly, I was pretty happy too. I never wanted the baby anyway, and I knew a five-million-dollar wire transfer would hit my account the moment it was over. Damon didn't know I was actually on his mother's payroll. My real job was to be the irritant—the perfect foil to push him and Tori back into their destructive, passionate embrace. My contract was up in one month. I was almost free. ... 1 I squeezed my eyes shut, but the searing pain I expected never arrived. When I opened them, I saw it: Tori Harrington’s lips curled into a faint, knowing smirk, her eyes fixed solely on Damon Blackwood. “You think if you pretend not to care, I’ll let her off the hook so easily?” Damon didn’t respond. They stood there, framed in the tension of their years-long standoff. I managed a strained, bitter smile. He wasn’t pretending not to care. He truly didn’t. I was just the hired shield, a pretty, disposable distraction he used to keep other casual flings away. Three years hadn’t managed to warm his stone-cold heart one degree. Expecting him to save me now was just delusional. “I’m going to kill this baby, no matter what!” Bang. The bullet struck my lower abdomen. Shit. That actually hurt. Blood instantly welled up, pouring through my clutching fingers. I was slick with sweat from the shock and the sudden, wrenching agony. “Damon Blackwood, if you have any shred of a soul, get me to a hospital, now!” He finally frowned, and that minimal sign of distress was enough to make him move. He stripped off his tailored suit jacket and draped it over me. I saw it clearly in his eyes: a deep, unmistakable flash of disgust. “Stop right there!” Tori’s voice sliced through the haze. “Walk out that door, and the only thing left between us is hate!” Damon froze. He started to turn, preparing to abandon me. I reached out, my trembling fingers catching the edge of his sleeve. He scowled, probably assuming I was about to beg or plead for him to stay. But I just managed to whisper through cracked, dry lips, my voice barely a thread: “Re-re-remember... to wire... the money...” He raised an eyebrow, a strange, almost amused smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Fine. Sierra Vaughn, you truly are a piece of work.” Right there, right in front of my face, he transferred five million dollars to my account. Finally satisfied, I let my eyes drift closed. I was loaded onto a stretcher and rushed toward the nearest trauma center. But the security guard at the emergency entrance stopped us. “Sorry, we can’t admit her here.” Too weak to argue, I could only manage to peel my eyes open slightly. Damon’s men were arguing fiercely with the hospital administrator, but it was useless. We were turned away. It happened at five hospitals in a row. Not a single one would take me. Through the fog of pain, I heard someone say: “Ms. Harrington gave the order.” Tori Harrington. Always Tori Harrington. That woman was trying to murder me, and Damon was letting her. Ruthless. Cold-hearted. Men really couldn't be trusted. A sickening, twisting pain shot through my stomach again and again. The white blanket they’d wrapped me in was completely saturated, dyed crimson. I couldn’t even bring myself to look down. For the first time, I felt something close to despair. I used the last reserves of my strength to grasp a bodyguard’s hand. “Take me... to the Blackwood... estate...” 2 The next time I woke, I was staring at the familiar, tight-lipped, not-quite-smiling face of Mrs. Blackwood, Damon’s mother. I tried to sit up, and she gently steadied me. “Easy, easy now. Don’t strain yourself, dear. You’ve been badly hurt.” I took a deep breath, marshaling all my training, all my professional gold-digger finesse. When I looked up again, my eyes were glistening, brimming with manufactured tears. “Madam... I truly can’t do this anymore... Please, I’m begging you, let me go!” Mrs. Blackwood’s expression shifted. She offered a few perfunctory words about how hard I’d worked, then the subject turned quickly. “Your father’s gambling debts to the Blackwood family aren’t settled yet, you know.” I gripped the bedsheet, my knuckles stark white. “A debt-ridden father, a sick mother, a younger brother needing school tuition. When I first met you, I thought, Surely, no one can be this tragic.” I pressed my lips together, offering a weak, self-deprecating smile. She was right. Life was a cruel joke. Fate loved to toy with the desperate. And it was exactly people like me who were so easy for them to manipulate. Mrs. Blackwood patted my shoulder, sighing dramatically. “Tori is only fighting with Damon because of you. That’s a sign that she cares, my dear.” “Just hold on a little longer. The contract ends soon, and then you’ll be free. Otherwise... you know what will happen.” I lowered my head and nodded softly. I had zero leverage to refuse. ... I’d only been recuperating at the estate for two days when Damon’s call came through. “Are you well enough yet? You got paid, now you need to do your job.” “There’s a high-stakes real estate tender on the West Side. Get over here.” I pouted. One of the main functions of a cage pet was to be an attractive accessory at the master’s various social functions. Thinking about the bullet wound Tori gave me, I felt a deep reluctance. Damon must have sensed my hesitation. An instant notification popped up on my phone. “One million. That’s a rush fee.” Money makes the world go round. God, I loved money. My face instantly transformed into a dazzling, professional smile. I chirped into the phone: “I’m on my way, sir! I can’t wait to see you!” There was a rare, brief pause on his end. After a beat, he simply said: “Stop being so glib.” I ignored his baffling mood swing and sped over to the tender meeting. I arrived to find him and Tori locked in a tense, public argument over a key parcel of land. “I just got back, Damon, and you’re already trying to spite me?” Tori crossed her arms, her gaze sharp and cutting. Damon was equally unyielding, slamming the base of his glass on the table with a dull thud. “The Blackwood organization has planned this land for years. You think you can just show up and claim it?” I hid in the back, happily sampling a plate of hors d’oeuvres. I never imagined I would be dragged into their mess again. The lights suddenly cut out. The last thing I felt was a dull, sickening crack against the back of my skull. When I opened my eyes again, I was suspended hundreds of feet in the air. “Damon Blackwood, are you deliberately fighting me because of her?” Tori’s voice crackled through a one-way speaker. A digital screen lit up inside the iron cage I was trapped in. I could clearly see Damon’s face—completely emotionless. I glanced down. The ground was impossibly far away, an untouchable abyss. Falling from this height would mean nothing but a messy splatter. I shuddered instinctively, and the cage groaned, a loud, protesting screeech. That was when I realized the horrifying truth. Tori had deliberately put me in a rickety, rusted, ancient cage. A sudden gust of wind tore past, and a sheet of metal ripped away from the cage floor and plummeted downward. “Ah!” I couldn’t stop the scream from ripping out of my throat, and I immediately curled into a fetal position in the corner. The wind whipped my hair around my face. The absolute terror of the situation made me cry, not the acting kind, but real, silent, panicked tears. “Damon, your little pet is weeping. Doesn’t that make you feel sorry for her?” Tori’s voice returned, laced with malice. I stared at his cold, detached eyes through the electronic screen. His dismissive voice finally came through the speaker. “No.” 3 Tori sneered. The rigging above the cage emitted a sharp ding sound. Then I started to fall. Rapidly. This is it. I’m going to die. These rich people are genuinely insane. The expected impact didn’t happen. A massive air cushion had been rigged up at the last minute to catch the cage. But the relief was momentary. My heart slammed back into my throat the next second. I was in an enclosed sanctuary. And all around me were wild wolves. The broken, flimsy cage was the only barrier I had. The camera inside was still streaming my ordeal to the other location. The pack was tearing at my party dress. I managed to avoid one, only to find another closing in. They surrounded me, drool dripping from their jaws. My heart plummeted. All the glib banter was gone. These animals looked genuinely starved. They worked the gaps in the cage, making them wider and wider. I heard Tori’s laughter in the speaker, right next to my ear. “Aren’t you going to save your little beauty, Damon?” A massive wolf finally squeezed through a large gap and lunged straight at me. I threw a desperate, pleading look at the screen. But Damon Blackwood just watched my terror, calmly taking a sip of his tea. The wolf clamped down on my leg. More and more injuries appeared on my body. The stitches in my abdomen, the ones from the shooting, finally gave way, and the pale gown was soaked in fresh red blood. My consciousness faded in and out. I still don't know how I was ultimately rescued. I only vaguely heard Damon talking to one of his subordinates. “Does she really care for me that much? She’s been through all this and still won’t leave?” The subordinate’s voice was shaky. “It... it appears so, sir. Ms. Vaughn seems genuinely devoted to you.” Damon laughed. “No. She only loves money.” ... I had modern medical science to thank. When I woke up again, half my injuries were already healing. But I didn't get more than a few days of rest before Damon summoned me again. Another partner’s birthday gala. Another compulsory appearance as his arm candy. Rich people always have too many parties. It was exhausting. The room was lit by warm chandeliers, a sea of clinking glasses and chatter. It was a scene I’d witnessed countless times during my three years with Damon. I was leaning down to grab a dessert when Tori’s voice, sharp and sudden, cut in. “I heard Ms. Vaughn used to work in a nightclub. Why doesn’t she perform a dance for us?” Before I could reply, Damon spoke. “She doesn’t dance.” Right. I don’t dance. My primary skill was mixology. For a moment, I actually felt a flicker of gratitude toward him. Tori pressed her lips into a thin line and stared intently at Damon. “To save you years ago, I was forced to drink until I was incoherent, humiliated by those men. And now you won’t even let her dance for me?” Damon fell silent. He tightened his grip on his wine glass, then turned to me and only said two words. “Go dance.” “But my wounds haven’t healed... I’m still in pain,” I pleaded. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes conveyed a cold, non-negotiable command. I had no choice but to change into the revealing costume and take my place among the professional dancers. Countless sticky, judgmental eyes stabbed at me from the crowd. The whispers were crude and cutting. “Jeez, Blackwood was hiding this little firecracker?” “When can I borrow her for a night?” My body was covered in bruises and raw sutures; to them, it probably had some perverse, abusive kind of beauty. I felt like a slab of meat on a cutting board. Like the cheapest commodity. In three years as a cage pet, this was the most profoundly humiliating moment I had endured. In a flash of blinding light and noise, a gunshot rang out. Screams erupted, and the crowd scattered. Someone was attempting a hit in the middle of the party! I instinctively tried to flee, to save myself. But someone shoved me hard from behind. I stumbled, falling directly toward Damon Blackwood. Pfff. A dull thud. I knew that sound intimately. It was a bullet ripping into flesh. It hurt. Badly. Shot in the chest. My ribs were probably shattered. As I lost consciousness, Damon caught me in his arms. His brow was furrowed. His voice, for the first time, held a disbelieving tremor. “You... you love me that much?” I tried to open my mouth to deny it, but my body failed me, and I passed out. 4 This time, I was given proper medical attention. For several days, Damon didn’t bother me. He just stood silently at the foot of my bed, his eyes holding a strange, unreadable quality. A mix of conflict, maybe even a struggle of conscience. But what did his internal drama matter to me? My contract had five days left. I was about to walk out the door forever. I slept soundly, fully embracing the sick leave. Until Tori came calling. She tossed a stack of photos onto the bed in front of Damon. They were pictures from my old life working as a bartender at a high-end club. In every shot, the back of the same man’s head—a regular customer—was visible. “Damon, I checked. She’s connected to the same people who tried to ruin you.” Tori stood, arms crossed, waiting for his response. Damon only glanced at the photos, one after the other. He said nothing. Tori frowned, then, for the first time, lowered her defenses. She knelt beside his chair, her eyes damp. “I almost lost you this time. I realized, in that moment, how much you mean to me.” “Damon, let’s stop fighting, okay? Deal with her, and we’ll get married.” I watched as Damon reached out a hand to her. It trembled slightly. But the words he spoke next plummeted my mood into a deep, freezing trough. He said: “Alright.” He had me dragged to the Blackwood Annex—the Vault—the dark, high-ceilinged room where family business was settled, and punishments were meted out. He spared me only one look as I was taken away. It was icy. Whatever faint trace of emotion I thought I saw in his eyes was instantly extinguished. My hands were bound behind my back. Whip after whip lashed across my skin. My flesh tore, bleeding freely. When I passed out from the pain, they woke me with buckets of ice water. “Tell us! What is your relationship with the Sullivan family?” My mind was hazy. “Sullivan family? I don’t know what you’re talking about...” My interrogator sneered and started a new round of lashing. My wounds, which had only just begun to heal, burst open, festering and oozing. When it was clear I was failing, he grabbed me, bringing a searing hot iron to my chest. “Ahhhh—Stop! It hurts!” I screamed, the pain bringing me instantly, violently back to consciousness. The man smiled, a terrifying grin. “This mark will stay with you forever. Every man who touches you will know exactly what kind of filth you are!” I struggled to look down. Branded into my skin was a single word, a symbol of utter shame. My eyes flinched away as if scorched. Tears streamed uncontrollably down my face. I regretted it. I shouldn’t have gotten involved in the world of the ultra-rich. I should never have gotten close to Damon Blackwood. I had barely an inch of uninjured skin left. Three of my fingernails had been ripped out. My breathing was ragged and wheezing, like a broken bellows. I knew I was dying. The interrogator chuckled and tossed me out onto the street like a piece of trash. In the throes of fading consciousness, I heard Mrs. Blackwood’s voice. “Oh, my. She looks utterly ruined.” “The contract is up. You can go now.” ... Damon Blackwood had been unusually agitated lately. He was about to marry the woman he’d yearned for for years, yet he couldn't stop thinking about Sierra Vaughn. He kept recalling her lazy indifference. Her cunning, fox-like sharpness. And the image of her in his arms, bleeding, having taken a bullet for him. He summoned his subordinate. “Where is Sierra Vaughn? It’s been days. Is she complaining that the Vault is too dark and boring?” The subordinate’s face went white with panic. He immediately dropped to his knees. “Mr. Blackwood, Ms. Vaughn... she died...” Damon Blackwood’s expression froze instantly.
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