1 The day the invitations for my wedding to Grayson Thorne went out, his childhood "best friend" flew in from London. Sienna wasn't just his friend; she was the orphan his parents had informally adopted, his shadow. And she demanded a "pre-marital test." "A girl like you, an orphan? You're obviously just a gold digger," she announced at brunch. "You'll have to pass a one-month trial. Only then will our 'family' give you our blessing." Under Grayson's silent agreement, his clique of trust-fund brats began their hazing. On a ski trip in Aspen, a bucket of ice water was "accidentally" dumped on me from a balcony. In the sub-zero weather, I ended up with a fever so high I had convulsions. A week later, a "prank" involving faulty wiring nearly set my room on fire. Their "tests" were relentless. "She's an orphan," I overheard one of them say. "It's not like she has anyone to defend her." Then, Sienna stole the case containing my family's medals. She was blatant. "Want them back? I'm sure you can buy them. Or maybe not. My dog does need a new collar." … Two days before the wedding, I was walking down the grand staircase at the Thorne estate. I hit a patch of clear cooking oil, my foot shot out, and I tumbled head-over-heels down two flights of marble stairs. My ribs screamed. Every breath was agony. I dragged myself up, my arm throbbing. Nearby, a few of the house staff were covering their mouths, snickering. "God, did you see her? Miss Sienna got her again." "She's tough, though. Most girls would have run by now." Sienna's bright, cruel voice drifted in from the foyer. "A gutter rat trying to be a queen? She's not going to give up that easily." She was flanked by her friends, all of them looking impeccable. I was a mess of bruises and torn clothes. "I still don't get what Gray sees in her," one guy said, looking me over. "Sienna's been right there his whole life. Why pick... that?" "She's an orphan, she can't help his family. It must be a fetish. Or maybe she's just really good in bed?" A wave of laughter. I ignored them, trying to check if my wrist was broken. A voice cut through the haze, and my hand froze. "Elara, my friends are here for the party. What happened to the house? There's oil all over the floor. You're supposed to be the future Mrs. Thorne. You can't even manage a simple party?" I looked up. Grayson was home. He was yanking at his tie, annoyed, until he finally saw the gash on my forehead. "God, what now? How did you get hurt again?" He started toward me, but Sienna grabbed his sleeve. "Gray, we agreed. The trial isn't over until the rehearsal dinner." She shot me a mocking look. "Miss Peyton. You keep saying you love Gray for him, not his money. You have to prove to us that we can trust you with him." One of her friends chimed in. "Sienna's right. If you back out over a few little scratches, you're just a gold digger." Grayson stopped. He hesitated. That single moment of hesitation was a bullet to my heart. I didn't want this stupid "trial." He was the one who'd begged me. "Elara, baby, my mother is still convinced you're not right for us. Just... play along. Show her you're committed. When it's over, she'll have to accept you." I loved him. I'd loved him for seven years. So, believing the "trial" was just a few silly pranks, I'd agreed. I never imagined Sienna would be this vicious. 2 I slowly pulled up my pant leg and my sleeve, showing the landscape of fresh bruises and cuts. "This one," I said, my voice shaking, "is from when Sienna insisted we go riding. She fed my horse a stimulant. It threw me, and I sprained my ankle." "Last week, on the yacht? She 'tripped' and pushed me overboard. In the middle of the sound." "The night before that, she..." The room went quiet. Grayson's face was unreadable. Sienna and her friends just watched me, amused, as if I were a bug under a microscope. I finished with the oil on the stairs. "Gray," I whispered, exhausted. "I'm done. I don't want to be tested anymore." "If you trust me, we'll get married. If you don't, then we..." I couldn't finish the sentence. Sienna's hand cracked across my face. "You bitch," she sneered. "How dare you try to turn him against us." I tasted blood. I looked at Grayson. My heart didn't just sink. It shattered. The man who once had a panic attack when I cut my finger on a wine glass just sighed and rubbed his temples. "Elara," he said, his voice strained. "You're going to be the lady of this house. You have to have a thicker skin than this." He didn't defend me. He just motioned for his friends to follow him to the patio. He left me with one last remark. "My status, and yours... there's a huge gap. You have to be willing to sacrifice a little to fit in here." His attitude was my death sentence. When he protected me, they treated me like royalty. When he abandoned me, I was their chew toy. "Look at the way she walks," one of them laughed. "You can just imagine..." "No wonder Gray's been obsessed for seven years. She's probably a freak." I turned to leave, but the next comment stopped me cold. "Like mother, like daughter. I bet her whole family was trash. Jailbirds and hookers." A string inside me snapped. I’ve been an orphan my whole life, I know how to take a hit. But my grandfather was a decorated Vietnam vet. My grandmother was a trailblazing NASA engineer who died saving her team's research. My parents were decorated police officers, killed in a bust that took down the city's biggest cartel. They were heroes. I didn't even think. I just lunged and punched the man who said it. He yelped, and I hit him again. Grayson ran back in, pulling me off the guy. I was a wreck, shaking, my face wet with tears. "He insulted my family, Gray!" I cried, grabbing his shirt. "He insulted my parents. Make him apologize!" This was it. This was the moment I needed him. The man who loved me, the powerful man who could make it right. He looked at me, his face tight with anger. "Elara, stop. You're acting like you're from the gutter. You can't just attack my friends. If my mother hears about this, it will set us back months." It was like being doused in ice. The love I'd seen in his eyes for seven years... was gone. Replaced by... embarrassment. Fine. A man like that? I didn't want him. I looked at Sienna and gave her a weak, bloody smile. "You win. The trial is over. And so is the wedding." Grayson's face went white. He grabbed my arm. "Elara, don't say that. You're not joking about this." Sienna laughed. "She's bluffing, Gray. Don't fall for it." "Yeah," another said. "She's a nobody. She's not leaving you. Where would she even go?" Grayson's tense shoulders relaxed. He believed them. He tried to pat my head, like a dog. "The wedding is in two days. My grandmother is even sending the Thorne Emeralds from the vault. Go upstairs and rest. We'll try them on this afternoon." I was too tired to argue. I just pulled my arm free and walked away. "She's just being dramatic," I heard one of them say. "She'll be fine by dinner." I pulled out my phone. "Dr. Wells? About that surgical fellowship in Zurich... I'll take it." "Elara! Wonderful!" he boomed. "You have the best hands I've ever seen. You were born for this!" 3 I didn't have much to pack. I left the engagement ring on his desk. Downstairs, the butler stopped me. "Ms. Peyton." He was polite, but his eyes were cold. "A gift from Mrs. Thorne, Senior. She requests you receive it." He was holding a carved wooden box, but it was strange. It was sealed, with just a single hole at the top, like a lottery drum. "Please return it. The wedding is off." The household staff blocked my path. "I'm afraid I can't do that, miss. My instructions are to ensure you 'receive' it." Fine. I'd give it to Grayson later. I stuck my hand in the hole. A searing, electric pain shot up my arm. I screamed and yanked my hand back. The box fell, and a swarm of angry hornets boiled out, flying straight at my face. I grabbed a pillow, but they were relentless. Sienna was leaning against the doorway, watching. "Oh, by the way," she called out, "that salve I gave you for your cuts? It's infused with honey." I was being stung, over and over, on my face, my neck, my hands. Grayson burst in, his face a mask of terror. He ripped off his suit jacket and threw it over my head, smothering the insects. … I woke up in a hospital. A Thorne-owned hospital. I heard voices. "Gray, it's not our fault. She agreed to the trial." "It was just hornets. I even had the doctor mix a mild paralytic into her salve. The venom... it's just a temporary neurotoxin. In an hour, her hands will be too shaky to hold a scalpel. Ever." "You always said you wanted her to be a stay-at-home wife. This just... helps." My blood ran cold. My hands. I fumbled for my phone, knocking a plastic cup over. "Elara? You're awake." Grayson rushed in. "Are you in pain?" I grabbed his wrist. "Gray, I heard them. Call a real doctor. My hands. Please, they're going to ruin my hands. Please!" He knew what my career meant to me. He knew my hands were my life. He looked at my desperate, pleading face. And he said nothing. He just looked away. "Elara," he said, his voice flat. "You misheard. Your hands are fine. You don't need surgery." The lie, combined with the growing numbness in my fingers, made me frantic. I tried to get out of bed. "I need... I need to call 911." Sienna appeared and planted her high heel hard on my injured hand. I screamed. "Who are you going to call, little orphan?" she sneered. "In this city, no one helps you. Not when the Thornes are involved." "Why?" I sobbed, the tears and the venom and the betrayal mixing into one agonizing wave. "I told you I loved him! I passed your tests! Why are you still doing this? Why are you destroying my hands?" Grayson just watched, his face impassive. "Elara, it's just a job. Is being my wife so bad?" He turned and spoke to the guards at the door. "Don't let her leave." He was locking me in. He was letting this happen. The light in my world went out. The most twisted part? As he left, I heard his friend ask, "Why don't you just dump her and marry Sienna?" And Grayson's voice, firm and resolute. "Never. My mother may not like her, but I will only ever marry Elara. I love her, and she loves me. It's forever." No, Grayson, I thought, as the feeling left my fingers. It's over. 4 The numbness was turning into a deep, burning ache. I crawled for my phone and opened my photos. A picture of a yellowed page from a notebook. A list of names and numbers. My grandfather's voice: "Elara, I'm an old man. If you're ever in real trouble, call these numbers. These men... they owe me their lives. They'll protect you." I knew the names. Political kingmakers. Media moguls. And one at the top: Augustus Blackwood. The patriarch of the city. My grandfather never called them. We were poor, but he was proud. He wouldn't use his honor as a debt to be collected. How could I? I let the phone fall from my numb hand. … When they finally let me "go home," a doctor gave me the news. "The nerve damage... it's extensive. You'll be able to live a normal life, but... I'm sorry, Ms. Peyton. You'll never operate again." I was walking to my room when a cloth was pressed over my face. I woke up briefly, confused. Sienna was holding my hand, pressing my thumb onto an inkpad, then onto a document. When I fully woke up, my bags were gone. My phone buzzed. A text from Sienna. An address. "Want your cheap medals back? Come and get them." My family's medals. The last thing I had. My hand was useless, my career was gone, I had no money, no power. I looked at my phone. I dialed the number.
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