Chapter 4

Heather turned away so she wouldn't have to look at me.

Nearby, Sarah urged the men, "Get to it already! Before Mr. Windsor comes home and sees her! You're gonna be Mrs. Windsor very soon, ma'am, so the last thing we want is this loose woman ruining your reputation!"

Hearing someone call her "Mrs. Windsor" instantly lifted Heather's mood. She smiled smugly again. "Take her as far away from me as possible. I want this to teach her who's boss!"

They dragged me toward the front door while I fought to dig my feet into the floor. My heels scraped across the hardwood.

Hugh tried to clamp a hand over my mouth, but I sank my teeth into the webbing between his thumb and index finger.

He screamed in pain and drove his knee into the side of my waist.

The impact slammed me into the doorframe, and the world went dark for a moment.

He crouched beside me and grabbed a fistful of my hair. "Bite me like a bitch again. I dare you! I could kill you right now, and no one would even give a fuck!"

Several unfamiliar motorcycles were parked outside my house. The gate to the courtyard stood half-open, leaving me in full view of the neighboring housekeepers. Several had already noticed the commotion, but none of them dared step in.

"Save your breath, Hugh," Heather said softly.

Hugh grabbed my chin and forced my face upward. "Who sent you? Who's your pimp? I'm gonna give them a call. They want their hoe back? They better have the money."

"Go to hell," I snarled.

I jerked my head aside just before his slap landed. His hand struck the doorframe instead.

His two friends laughed while recording me. "Oh shit, she's not like the other girls! She's so tough!"

"Hey, maybe she really is some rich man's daughter. That would explain the attitude!"

Hugh shoved the camera toward his own face. "Oh yeah? Would an heiress show up at a rich widower's home alone like that? Please. She's just an expensive prostitute!"

"You'll regret this," I growled.

He snorted. "Regret? I don't know her. I don't do that shit!"

He shoved my face toward the camera again. "Come on. Tell the world what you do for a living. Tell them you're up for sale, or I'll tear the clothes off your body and show the internet!"

Heather's eyes lit up. "Wait! Not so fast! We have to blackmail her sugar daddy or pimp into paying us first before we do that!"

Sarah nodded enthusiastically. "Brilliant idea, Miss DeVry! We need her to pay for your psychological injury first!"

I couldn't help laughing. "Excuse me?!"

Heather crouched beside me.

"I'll make sure you pay more than a hundred times over for that slap you gave me," she whispered sweetly. "So what if you're younger than me? It doesn't mean anything. Mr. Windsor is gonna be on my side, you hear me? Because whoever comes first wins. And I happen to look like the first."

"Take her out of your mouth!" I shot back. "You don't even deserve to mention her. Did you even know her name?"

She couldn't answer.

Heather knew her resemblance to my mother gave her an advantage, but that didn't mean she cared enough to learn her name.

Hugh yanked my hair impatiently. "Why are you wasting your time with her? Get her out of here already."

His friends each grabbed one of my shoulders.

"I want every one of her belongings thrown out!" Heather ordered.

Sarah rummaged through one of my suitcase's outer pockets. A framed photograph slipped out and crashed onto the floor.

I froze in horror. "Don't touch that!"

Sarah glanced at it and burst out laughing. "Oh my God, she even brought a fake family portrait!"

Heather quickly snatched up the photograph and examined it. I had been a little girl then, my arms wrapped around my mother's neck while she carried me. My father stood beside us with one hand resting on my shoulder, smiling warmly.

Heather's gaze lingered on my mother's face as her expression darkened. Without warning, she hurled the frame to the floor with all her strength.

"Fake!"

The shattering glass echoed her shriek.

"You've gone to a lot of trouble just to weasel your way into the Windsor family. You're disgusting!" she bellowed.

She ground the photograph beneath her shoe.

"Get your foot off my picture!" I screamed. My blood boiled with rage.

She didn't move. Instead, she pressed her heel down harder and deliberately ground it into the shattered frame. "Nope. What the fuck are you gonna do?"

I lunged and shoved her away.

She screamed as she stumbled backward.

Sarah rushed over and helped her to her feet.

"How dare you lay a hand on my sister!" Hugh seized my hair again and dragged me toward the front steps. "You just signed your own death warrant, bitch. No one's gonna save you now!"

He was about to drag me down the flight of steps when a voice thick with barely restrained fury thundered, "What the hell are you people doing?!"