I got pulled in by the opening scene and honestly couldn’t stop thinking about the way the story sets its stakes so quickly. The heroine, Rebecca, is introduced as an international student scraping by—she’s determined to finish school but gets mugged and then cut off by her mother, which leaves her desperate and vulnerable. Faced with rent and no safety net, she schemes a way out that ends up dragging her into a late-night party where wealthy men look for companions; there she meets Christopher, a man who’s used to being obeyed and bought, and who becomes the central figure of her entanglement. The second half of that opening chapter leans into atmosphere and power imbalance: Rebecca goes in with the plan to secure money and leave again—to return home and marry—but the scene where she kneels before Christopher, and the small humiliations and thunderclap that snap her back to the present, are written to make you feel each choice’s cost. The novel hints at the emotional fallout to come (guilt, survival choices, and whether she’ll be able to escape the man who treats his companions as disposable), and it’s clear this is going to explore class, shame, and the compromises people make under pressure. Reading it felt like riding a slow, uneasy descent into a world where morality and survival blur—pretty gripping stuff.