Chapter 3

The next morning, my birthday, my phone rang. The caller ID was a number I didn' t recognize. I hesitated, then answered.

"Sarah Miller?" a sharp, female voice asked.

"Yes?"

"This is Emily White. I think it' s time we had a little chat. Meet me at the cafe on Elm Street in an hour. Don' t be late."

She hung up before I could reply. My blood ran cold. Why would she want to meet me? After a moment of panic, a cold calm settled over me. Fine. Let her say what she wanted. It didn' t matter anymore. I was leaving tonight.

The cafe was small and chic. Emily was already there, sitting at a corner table, looking flawless in a white pantsuit. She looked me up and down as I approached, her eyes filled with disdain.

"So, you' re the little charity case Michael has been keeping," she said, not bothering with a greeting. "I have to admit, I don' t see the appeal. You' re so plain."

I sat down, my hands folded in my lap. I refused to let her see how much her words cut me.

"What do you want, Emily?" I asked, my voice steady.

She laughed, a high, brittle sound. "I want you to know your place. Michael is mine. He always has been. You were just a temporary distraction, a toy he played with when he was bored. But playtime is over. Tonight, at your little party, everyone is going to see you for what you really are. A pathetic, worthless orphan who tried to steal a man she had no right to."

Her words were meant to humiliate me, to break me. A day ago, they would have. But now, they were just noise. The truth she didn' t know was that I was already broken, and I was putting myself back together in a new shape, one that she couldn't touch.

"You' re right," I said calmly.

Emily blinked, surprised by my agreement. "What?"

"You' re right," I repeated, looking her directly in the eye. "Michael does love you. He' s obsessed with you. And I was just a substitute. I see that now."

Her smug smile returned. "Good. As long as you understand."

"Oh, I understand more than you think," I continued, my voice dropping. "I understand that he' s planning on auctioning me off tonight to humiliate me for you. I understand he' s planning a 'fire scare' to entertain you by reliving my trauma. And I understand that you' re the one who set the fire that killed my parents six years ago."

The color drained from Emily' s face. Her mask of cool superiority shattered, replaced by pure shock and then rage. "You... how did you...?"

"It doesn' t matter how I know," I said, standing up. "What matters is that I' m done. You can have him. You can have the money, the parties, the whole sick world you two have built for yourselves. I don' t want any part of it. I' m leaving."

I turned to walk away, but Emily lunged at me. Her perfectly manicured nails dug into my arm, her face twisted in a snarl. "You' re not going anywhere, you little bitch! You' re not going to ruin this for me!"

She slapped me, hard, across the face. The sound echoed in the quiet cafe. My head snapped to the side, my cheek stinging. A few patrons gasped, staring at us.

Before I could react, two large men in black suits who had been sitting at a nearby table suddenly stood up. They grabbed my arms, their grips like iron.

"What are you doing?" I cried, struggling against them.

"Michael wants his guest of honor to be at the party tonight," Emily hissed, her composure returning as she watched me struggle. "He was worried you might try to run. Looks like he was right. Take her. Lock her in the old garden house behind the mansion. Make sure she' s ready for her big debut."

The men began to drag me out of the cafe. I kicked and fought, but it was useless. They were too strong. "Let me go!" I screamed, but no one moved to help. They just watched, their faces a mixture of shock and morbid curiosity.

They pushed me into the back of a black car and the door slammed shut, plunging me into darkness. My heart hammered against my ribs. I was a prisoner. Michael and Emily weren't just going to humiliate me. They were going to hold me captive, to force me to endure their twisted games. The last sliver of hope I had felt this morning vanished. I was trapped.