Chapter 2

The second chance felt like a fever dream, but the memory of Caleb's betrayal was a brand on my soul. I wouldn't be a victim again.

My plan began immediately, in secret.

The World Scholar's Cup. An international academic competition. Grueling, but my mind was sharp, fueled by a new, icy resolve.

I flew to the global round. I competed. I won.

The acceptance letter from Columbia arrived a week later. Early Decision. My place was secure. The SATs were now... optional for me.

A grim satisfaction settled in. Caleb wanted my score? He could have it.

On test day, I filled in my name. Then, for every single question, I left the answer bubble blank.

The night of the auction arrived, a horrifying echo of my past life. Or was it my future?

The secret club in SoHo, pulsing with dark money and darker desires. Caleb was there, arm around Ashley, a smug, possessive look on his face.

The big screen flickered to life. My photos. My life, twisted and exposed. Important parts pixelated, but the implication was clear.

Whispers and jeers rippled through the crowd of wealthy degenerates.

"Look at that, the Winston heiress. Not so prim and proper now, is she?"

"Heard she was easy. Guess it's true."

Ashley Jenkins, her eyes gleaming with malicious delight, feigned concern. "Oh, Isabella, honey, those photos! How could this happen? You should tell Caleb, I'm sure there's a misunderstanding."

Her voice dripped with false sympathy.

I ignored her. My gaze locked on Caleb.

"Caleb Blackwood," I said, my voice steady, cutting through the noise. "You seem to forget who propped up your failing family. Who took you in when your father's business was about to go under."

His smile tightened.

"You were nothing but a charity case. A stray dog we fed from our table."

That hit a nerve. His face flushed, a dark red creeping up his neck.

He slammed his hand on the table beside him. "江雨曦! You still think the Winstons can control everything? Look around, Isabella! You're the one on a leash now, paraded for everyone's amusement!"

He gestured to the auctioneer, a shadowy figure in the corner.

"Let the auction begin! Isabella Winston's 365 private photos. Starting bid... one dollar!"

The crowd roared. One dollar. The ultimate humiliation.

I met Caleb's gaze. He thought he had me. He had no idea.