Chapter 2

The limousine glided through the city’s wealthiest district, past gates that stood taller than houses and gardens that glowed like emeralds under streetlights. Purple pressed her palm against the cool glass, watching her old world come into focus—her world, the one she’d walked away from for love.

When the car pulled up to the Hearts of Jewels estate, the massive iron gates swung open without a sound. Marble columns rose into the night sky, and the fountain in the courtyard sparkled with water that had been filtered and chilled to perfection. It was home—but it felt foreign after two years of small cheap mansion and hand-me-down furniture.

“Ms. Purple!” A woman in a tailored uniform rushed forward, her eyes brimming with tears. “Your mother and father have been counting the days until you came back.”

Martha—her childhood nanny, the woman who’d taught her to tell real gems from fakes—wrapped her in a hug that smelled of lavender and home. For the first time since she’d walked out of that bar, Purple let her walls crumble, burying her face in Martha’s shoulder as silent sobs shook her body.

Upstairs, in the master suite she’d grown up in, her parents waited. Eleanor Hearts—CEO of Hearts of Jewels and a woman whose name was whispered with awe in boardrooms worldwide—stood by the window, her posture as straight as a sword. Marcus Hearts, her father and the company’s creative director, paced the floor, his hands clasped behind his back.

They turned as she entered, and in their eyes, she saw not anger—but relief.

“My baby,” Eleanor said, crossing the room to cup her daughter’s face. Her thumb traced the bandage on Purple’s temple, and her jaw tightened. “He did this to you.”

It wasn’t a question. Purple nodded, her voice barely a whisper. “I was wrong about him, Mama. I’m so sorry I didn’t listen to you.”

Marcus pulled her into a hug, his large hands resting on her head. “There’s nothing to forgive, little one. You had to learn for yourself. Now—we take back what’s ours.”

"Mom, I'm so sorry..." she sobbed, her shoulders shaking with quiet grief.

"Hush now, my dear Purple—it’s alright," her mother murmured, her voice suddenly sharp as ice. "That man will pay for every single thing he’s done to you."

"No, Mom. I’ll take care of it myself," she insisted, straightening up with a steely glint in her eyes. "I’m taking my place at the company... and I’ve learned there’s someone out there pretending to be me. Her name is Amber Delgado."

"That’s our maid’s daughter," her mother breathed, hand flying to her mouth.

"Of course it is," Purple said, slumping back in her chair as she held up her empty finger. "That’s how she got the diamond ring you gave me for my twenty-first birthday—the ring that proves I’m an heir to the Hearts fortune."

THUMP.

A heavy cane struck the floor, making both women jump.

"Grandpa!" Purple cried, launching herself into his arms.

The old man’s face was flushed with fury, his knuckles white where he gripped his cane.

"Who dares steal from my granddaughter? Who dares claim what is hers?"

"Your maid’s daughter, sir," Purple said quietly. "She’s been telling everyone she’s the true heiress of Hearts."

"Outrageous!" he roared, pressing a hand to his chest as his breathing grew ragged.

"Don’t worry about a thing, Grandpa," Purple said—and the smile that crossed her lips was nothing like her usual warm expression.

The halls of Hearts Corporation buzzed with whisper the real chairwoman was finally arriving. Inside her corner office, Purple’s fingers danced across her laptop keyboard as her assistant knocked sharply on the door.

"Ms. Hearts?"

"Yes, Marcus—what have you found?"

"I’ve identified your match," he said, laying a folder on her desk.

"Physically perfect six-foot-two, top of his class at Oxford, strikingly handsome... and he’s a virgin."

"His name is Echo….”

Purple paused, raising an eyebrow. "A virgin? Does he even know what he’s signing up for?"

"He’s aware of the arrangement, but there’s one condition," Marcus continued, his voice dropping.

"He wants you to wear a mask, and the lights must stay off the entire time. He says he’s... not comfortable being seen."

A slow grin spread across Purple’s face—dark, dangerous, and full of secrets.

"Interesting. So we’ll play by his rules for now," she purred, closing her laptop with a decisive click.

"Tell him to be at my penthouse tonight at nine. And Marcus... make sure he doesn’t try to take his mask off. Or turn on any lights."

As her assistant departed, sudden chaos in the hallway jolted her—people had gathered in a circle around a tall, masculine, strikingly handsome man who was pleading with Amber.

"Please, tell me it’s a joke—that you love me," the man begged.

"No, Echo. I could never love someone as poor and pathetic as a janitor," Amber sneered maliciously.

Purple tensed, ready to intervene in the scene unfolding in her company. But she quickly realized it wasn’t the right moment to reveal her identity. Instead, she stepped into the private VIP elevator reserved exclusively for the CEO and chairwoman.

The hallway erupted in cruel laughter from onlookers who joined in mocking the man they saw as "poor."

"Let me be clear—I only gave you attention because I found it amusing to watch you scrape by for every penny. It was almost cute," Amber continued.

"Now Alex Hawthorne wants to marry me. Only a man like him is worthy of standing by my side," she added with an evil grin before walking away. Murmurs rippled through the crowd about Alex—known to many as a reckless playboy.

"I regret ever loving you, Amber. Mark my words—you’ll regret this too," Echo shouted after her, then turned and stormed out of the building.

Waiting outside was a one-of-a-kind luxury car—far beyond anything Amber could have imagined.

Echo Reid was no janitor. He was the sole heir to the Echo Group of Southern Altheya, part of the region’s wealthiest families. He’d hidden his true identity to pursue Amber, drawn to her beauty from afar. Now, all that affection was gone, and he felt no hesitation about accepting an offer to become a sugar baby for another heir.

"I need an heir of my own, and working as a companion could help make that happen. Besides, finding someone worthwhile these days is harder than it looks," he muttered to himself.

His phone buzzed with a notification from his first client:

"Come to the penthouse tonight. We’ll finalize the business contract—just pleasure, no love involved."

A smile played on his lips.

Just pleasure. No love.