Howard Henson's hand shot out and seized my chin, fingers digging in hard.
"Stella Graves, who taught you to talk to me like that?"
"Life did."
My head was forced back, my eyes locked with his.
"Life taught me that if you don't have money, you get on your knees."
"You'd know that better than anyone, Mr. Henson. When your father owed half a million in gambling debts and they were cutting off his fingers, you knelt in front of me and begged just like this."
For those three years, I didn't just pay off his debts. I kept him by my side.
Everyone in our circle laughed at him, called him my well-trained dog.
One look from me, and Howard would dive into freezing water in the dead of winter to fish out my earring.
But now the tables had turned.
I was the fake. Vivienne Graves was the real one.
Howard Henson was now Vivienne's fiance, about to take over the Graves Group.
"Shut up."
His fingers traced along my jaw.
"Stella, that mouth of yours is still as vicious as ever."
"That's vicious?"
I let out a cold laugh.
"I'm just stating facts. All I'm good for now is making the bed and cleaning the room for you and your fiancee. Isn't that right?"
Just then, the suite door swung open.