My hand bones made a grating sound.
"Layla Sullivan, does it hurt?"
His voice was low, carrying a grim chill.
"Like back then? That snowy day when you people threw me out the front door like trash?"
I clenched my teeth and stayed silent.
It hurt. Of course it hurt.
But I didn't have the right to cry.
The creditors understood immediately—in front of this new darling, I was nothing but a plaything.
Anthony withdrew his foot and rubbed the sole against the grass in disgust.
"Layla Sullivan, beg me."
I lifted my head. Rainwater ran down my tangled hair into my eyes, stinging.
"Mr. Vance, can you lend me fifty thousand? My younger brother is in the hospital—"
"Lend?"
He laughed coldly.
"The Sullivans are gone. What would you pay me back with? This body that's already been used up?"
I didn't speak. My nails dug into my palms.
He bent down, gripped my chin, and forced me to meet his gaze.
"Be my mistress, and I'll pay off your debts."
I didn't hesitate long.
Against my brother's sky-high medical bills, dignity wasn't worth the paper it was printed on.
"Okay."
My voice came out hoarse, scraped raw from somewhere deep in my throat.