Chapter 2

I opened the contract document.

The terms were degrading.

It stated that I had to obey Marcus’s every command unconditionally for an entire year.

Instead of replying to Jason, I downloaded the file and forwarded it directly to my friend, David Sawyer, a defense attorney.

[Can you check this out? Does this count as coercion?]

David replied in seconds.

[It crosses into coercion and illegal restraint. Save every piece of evidence. Whatever you do, do NOT sign or thumbprint it.]

I texted back.

[Got it.]

Seeing that I hadn't responded, Jason thought I was paralyzed with fear. He sent another text to up the pressure.

[Play your cards right on the yacht tomorrow. If Marcus’s happy, I might throw an extra five grand into your family’s wedding gift fund.]

Five thousand dollars.

In Jason’s eyes, my dignity, my freedom, and my future were worth five grand.

I took another screenshot and saved it to the folder.

I slipped my phone back into my bag and pulled out a pair of oversized sunglasses.

My reflection in the terminal window showed a tall, elegant woman with a striking, sharp jawline.

Three years abroad, and Jason didn't send a single text to check on me.

He had no idea I spent three hundred thousand dollars on complete facial reconstruction and cosmetic surgery.

Tomorrow, I would make him learn the true cost of gambling me away.

---

Early the next morning, a courier delivered a tacky package to my door from Jason, with strict instructions for me to wear it to the party.

I looked down at the bundle sitting on the floor.

Through the torn plastic wrapper, I could see a neon-colored bikini with barely enough fabric to cover anything.

This was the "outfit" Jason wanted me to wear to the yacht.

I let out a cold laugh, picked up the package, and tossed it straight into the hallway trash chute.

I walked into my closet and chose a tailored black designer trench coat over a silk slip dress.

I pinned my long hair up into a relaxed twist, put on a black medical mask, and topped it off with oversized sunglasses that covered half my face.

I wrapped myself up tight. Completely hidden.

---

At ten in the morning, the breeze on the marina was cold.

The moment I stepped onto Dock 3, a chorus of loud, obnoxious laughter cut through the air.

Jason was standing near the edge of the pier with a group of rich party boys, clad in head-to-toe designer streetwear, smoking cigarettes.

When Jason saw what I was wearing, he froze for a second before pointing at me and bursting into a hysterical laugh.

"You're ugly, we get it! Bundling up like that, are you afraid you'll scare off the seagulls?"

The trust-fund boys around him immediately chimed in.

"Hey Jason, at least your fiancée has self-awareness! She knows her face looks frightening, so she covered the whole thing!"

"Seriously! Where's the bikini? Dressed like that, are you applying to be a maid in the Arctic?"

I stood in place, watching them with icy eyes.

Right then, a guy with a thick gold chain around his neck and a heavy beer gut strutted over.

It was Marcus.

He held a printed stack of paper in his hand.

It was the hard copy of the Voluntary Service & Debt Settlement Agreement. The same one Jason sent me the previous night.

Marcus looked me up and down, his eyes filled with pure disgust.

"She's hideous, but a woman's a woman, I guess."

He slammed the contract onto the wooden railing and tossed a black ink pad at my feet.

"Put your thumbprint on it. Starting today, you’re my personal maid."

The crowd of rich kids instantly whipped out their phones, aiming their cameras straight at my face.

The flashes went off repeatedly, accompanied by the loud clicking of shutters.

"Record this! Get a good angle! Her body doesn't look that bad, but that face ruins everything, Marcus really isn't picky!"

"Drop it in the group chat! Let everyone see how Jason trades off his fiancée to pay his debts!”