I’ve always rejected the idea of inner turmoil. When a college roommate accused me of theft, I called the police immediately and told them to search my side of the room. When a professor, threatened by my confidence, slut-shamed me in her office, I brought the entire class in and forced her to point out the specific man I was supposedly trying to 'charm.' My reputation quickly preceded me. No one dared to cross me—until that dinner party. I’d just returned from the restroom when I heard my boyfriend’s 'girl friend'—a blonde named Vanessa Hill—delivering her assessment right outside the door. “Look at her. Total vanity project. I bet she says she’s naturally beautiful, but she’s clearly all filler and filters.” “Head-to-toe designer clothes, driving a G-Wagon... what kind of job pays that well for a girl her age?” “Rhys, darling, you need to be careful. She’s definitely trying to climb the ladder from gold-digger to wife!” I pushed the door open, my voice cutting through the noise. “Your mouth smells like a sewage backup, Vanessa. Did you eat trash today?” 1 Silence instantly swallowed the private dining room. Every glance, whether direct or peripheral, was sizing me up. My boyfriend, Rhys Caldwell, said nothing. His gaze, however, was dark and unreadable. Vanessa’s smirk froze for a beat before she covered her mouth with a delicate, practiced laugh. “I was only kidding, Skylar! Why are you so defensive, darling?” “Did I strike a nerve? Are you worried Rhys will dump you and your whole little operation will collapse?” I immediately pulled out my phone, started playing the recording of her words on a loop, and, right in front of her, contacted my lawyer. I watched Vanessa’s pale, shifting expression, and let out a cold laugh. “You’re an adult, Vanessa. You need to pay for your words.” “If you can’t provide immediate evidence to support your claim that I’m a gold digger, expect a defamation lawsuit. I will sue you for slander.” The rest of the friends at the table looked stunned, clearly not expecting me to go for the jugular so fast. Vanessa chewed on her lip, her face white. Rhys’s brow furrowed. He was clearly displeased. “Skylar, this is too much! It was just a little drama, why are you making a scene?” A little drama? Being publicly slandered as a prostitute is "a little drama"? He didn’t react when I was being insulted, but the moment I defend my own name, he tells me to let it go. Did he think I was some kind of pushover? I opened the dialing app and hovered my finger over the 911 button. “Apologize to me in the next three seconds, Vanessa, or I’m calling the police right now.” Since I was meeting all of them for the first time, it was clear the others were closer to Vanessa. One of the men scoffed. “Whoa, what a temper. Maybe she’s really just acting tough because she knows Vanessa is right?” Rhys’s face hardened. He grabbed my wrist, his voice turning cold. “If you’re not what she says, then prove it to me.” My breath hitched. I couldn't believe the words that had just left his mouth. “What are you talking about?” No wonder he had stayed silent earlier. He was actually listening to her poisonous gossip. Seeing the frost in my expression, Rhys doubled down. “Just show me all the chat logs on your phone. If I see nothing suspicious, I’ll believe you.” I nearly laughed out loud. Why should I have to prove my innocence against a baseless rumor? I yanked my arm free, crossed my arms over my chest, and leaned back in my chair, fixing my gaze on Vanessa. “I see that’s the new LV bag. The cheapest version is easily ten grand. So, did you earn that, or did you scam it? Got a receipt, Vanessa?” The others looked closer, realizing I was right, and their inquisitive stares turned to Vanessa. She faltered, hesitating for a moment before pursing her lips. “Rhys bought it for me.” A slow, deliberate smile stretched across my face. “My boyfriend bought you something that expensive? I have every reason to suspect you two are hooking up.” Slam! Rhys slapped his chopsticks down. He glared at me. “Skylar Reed, you are completely irrational!” “Vanessa and I are clean! It was just a friendly gift. Are you seriously this jealous?” I grabbed my phone, opened my photos, and pulled up a screenshot I’d taken earlier. The picture showed Vanessa in a black lace negligee, her cleavage prominent. It was a photo she’d sent to Rhys with the question: Do you like this dress? I stood up and walked directly over to the guy who had defended Vanessa, shoving the phone right in his face. “Tell me, buddy. What kind of intentions does a person have when they send this kind of photo to someone else’s boyfriend late at night?” He shrunk back, refusing to meet my eyes. The others suddenly became fascinated by their own plates, desperate not to get involved. I turned back to Rhys, a terrifying grin on my face. “Tell me, what do you think?” Rhys’s face immediately darkened. He shot Vanessa a look of cold fury. Sensing the tide turning, Vanessa scrambled to her feet. “I’m sorry, Skylar, I shouldn’t have said those things.” “And I didn’t mean to send that photo to Rhys! I meant to send it to my friend, but I accidentally sent it to him. I can’t believe you went through Rhys’s chats and screen-grabbed it!” No, I just happened to see it pop up and took a screenshot for proof. But Rhys only heard the second half. He turned his accusatory gaze on me. “You checked up on me?” Tears welled in Vanessa’s eyes. “Rhys, Skylar, please don't fight because of me. I apologize to Skylar. I promise I’ll stay far away from you from now on, Rhys.” Rhys pulled her close, his voice chillingly cold. “You’re not the one who should be apologizing. Turns out Vanessa was right, Skylar. You’re nothing but a conniving, gold-digging sociopath.” “You hooked enough money off other old men and thought you’d try to anchor yourself to a real trust-fund baby, didn’t you? Stop hiding your tacky ambition.” “We’re done. And trust me, you cross me, you won’t get away with it. I’ll be waiting for the day you come crawling back.” He pocketed his phone and stormed out. Vanessa turned to me, a smug, triumphant smile on her face. The others looked on with a mixture of amusement and contempt, filing out one after another. I looked at the empty room and laughed. Rhys was right. The only difference was that he was the one who wouldn't be getting away with anything. 2 Rhys and his entourage kicked me out of their group chat. But they didn't block me. Instead, they constantly updated their social media feeds: snowboarding trips, golf tournaments, fast cars, yacht parties, all flaunting mansions and luxury cars. It was a pathetic show meant entirely for my benefit. What they didn't realize was that in an effort to show off, they’d rented a massive estate to host an auction house party where the 'goods' being auctioned were female influencers. I clapped my hands softly. How incredibly interesting. An open invitation for disaster—it would be a crime not to take advantage of it. I paid a substantial amount to bribe one of the estate’s catering staff, instructing him to install pinhole cameras in every corner to ensure a 360-degree surveillance setup. He looked terrified when he heard the request. “Ms. Reed, this is highly illegal, isn’t it? If they find it, I could go to jail.” I smiled. “What they’re planning to do is far worse. No one will be concerned with a few cameras when the dust settles. Don't worry.” I pulled out a bank card and handed it to him. “This is your fee. I assure you, you will be very satisfied.” That night, he messaged me confirming everything was set up. Perhaps as a final attempt to make me regret leaving, Rhys even sent me an invite. Why not accept? I certainly wasn't going to miss the show. The night of the party, Vanessa approached me, acting the part of the hostess, her expression haughty. “You’ll probably never earn enough money in your life to afford the down payment on a place like this, you know.” “Don’t think just because you have a pretty face, some trust-fund idiot will stick around. Plastic surgeons are a dime a dozen now. If you want to latch onto someone, you’ll have to beg Rhys first.” I watched her swagger away and fought the urge to roll my eyes. Rhys then walked up, looking down at me. “I thought you wouldn’t show. Vanessa was right, wasn’t she? You’re a gold digger who can’t stay away from the money.” His entire crew gathered around, throwing out their usual cheap insults. “Well, look who it is! If it isn’t Skylar Reed. What’s up, ditching the high-and-mighty act and crawling back so fast?” “She looks high-class, but I bet she’s filthy underneath. Rhys, when you’re done, pass her around to the rest of the guys!” The group roared with vulgar laughter, their eyes predatory. I tilted my head, forcing a saccharine-sweet smile. “Wow, your imaginations are so vivid. Don’t worry. I’m just here for the show.” “Just wait. You’ll be crying later, I promise.” Vanessa spat the words, turning to leave with the men. I found a quiet corner and opened my phone. The livestream was running. Vanessa’s face, beaming with excitement, was front and center. She held a microphone and addressed the room. “Welcome, gentlemen, to tonight’s Auction House Party! And now, please welcome our first item up for bid!” A line of scantily clad female influencers—sweet-faced, curvy, soft-spoken—paraded onto the stage. As soon as the influencers appeared, the stream started gaining viewers. “No way? Is this what I think it is? Can they even broadcast this?” “Dude, don’t doubt it. I recognize one of them. That’s Rhys Caldwell from the city’s A-list circles. Total trust-fund brat.” “I follow a few of those girls! They’re being treated like this by a bunch of rich jerks? Unbelievable.” Due to the audacious content and rapid sharing among viewers, the livestream quickly went viral, hitting over fifty thousand concurrent viewers. Rhys and his friends had no idea. 3 “Lot number one, starting bid one hundred thousand, with minimum raises of ten thousand.” Vanessa stood in the auctioneer’s spot, basking in her temporary authority, her eyes full of contempt for the women on stage. Her expression stiffened for a moment, however, when Rhys placed the first successful bid. The acquisition of Lot 1 immediately injected a hint of jealousy into Vanessa’s gaze. As I watched the stream comments fly by, my phone buzzed with a text from Rhys. Could you make this much money sleeping with other men? Probably take you ten or more times. If you come over now and get on your knees, crawl to me, and beg for forgiveness, I might consider giving you one more chance. I let out a harsh laugh. Rhys must have a few screws loose. Did he really think I needed him? What, did he think wealthy families don’t have daughters? For the record, my family’s actual net worth would make his father’s fortune look like pocket change. The next second, the livestream was suddenly shut down. Across town, Victor Caldwell, Rhys’s father, received a frantic call. His face went white. He immediately called Rhys, but between the loud music and the fact that Rhys was currently making out with his new Lot 1, he didn't hear his phone. Moments later, Victor and a swarm of bodyguards kicked in the villa’s front door, storming in with absolute fury. Victor hauled Rhys off the sofa and, without a word, delivered a massive, ringing slap across his face. Everyone froze, stunned. Vanessa, seeing her man assaulted, shrieked and ran over. “You old man, who the hell do you think you are? You lay a hand on Rhys again, you’re dead!” She didn’t notice the complicated, almost pitying glances the other young men were shooting her. SMACK! Rhys slapped her back, his voice low and dangerous. “That’s my father, you idiot!” At that, Vanessa’s legs gave way. She almost collapsed, stumbling to offer a terrified apology. “Mr. Caldwell, I’m so sorry! I was just worried about Rhys! I spoke out of turn! Please don't be angry!” Victor Caldwell shot Vanessa a look of deep distaste. “This is who you keep around?” Seeing Rhys about to get dragged further, Vanessa played her final card: she violently slapped herself multiple times, tears streaming down her face. “Uncle! I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault! Please don’t punish Rhys! I promise I’ll never speak out of turn again!” Victor’s face softened slightly. He looked around the chaotic room and demanded of his son, “What in God’s name are you doing?” Having been slapped in public, Rhys was embarrassed and pissed. “Just having a little fun, Dad.” Hearing the casual arrogance, Victor’s hand shot up again. He held back, his face a mask of disappointment. “Look at what you’ve done!” He shoved his phone, playing the recorded livestream, in front of Rhys. Rhys’s expression changed instantly. “Where did this come from?” Seeing his genuinely confused reaction, Victor guessed someone had set him up. “Think, Rhys. Who have you crossed lately? Whoever did this is not an amateur.” He thought and thought. The most impossible answer was often the correct one. Rhys’s eyes snapped up, landing on me. However, I had quietly slipped out of the villa moments before Victor’s dramatic entrance. I was now in my car, watching Rhys’s panic unfold through the cameras. I always live by one rule: anyone who messes with me gets repaid a hundredfold. 4 Rhys texted me a slew of desperate messages. Was it your sugar daddy who did that for you? I can’t believe you found a new man so fast. With that kind of pull, he must be a sixty-year-old leech! Letting some old man worm all over you... you’ll do anything for money. That’s truly disgusting! I ignored the insults and blocked him completely. I knew that given Rhys’s standing in the Caldwell family, a little video scandal wasn’t enough to truly shake him. Sure enough, the next day, the entire fiasco was swept under the rug and explained away as a "behind-the-scenes gag for a short film." I made my next move. I contacted Victor Caldwell’s illegitimate son, Rhys’s younger, half-brother: Ezra Caldwell. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. More importantly, if Rhys was taken down, Ezra would be next in line. Ezra didn't hesitate; he agreed to my invitation instantly. The next day, a major charity gala was held at the Grand Unity Hotel. Virtually every elite family in the city was present. Vanessa and Rhys were walking through the doors just as I stepped out of Ezra Caldwell's car. They froze. “Skylar Reed. I wondered who you were latching onto next. Turns out it's my worthless little brother.” “Tsk tsk. I hope you know he’s a bastard child. Everything he has is just the crumbs that fall from my table. Pitiful.” Vanessa clung to Rhys’s arm, her voice dripping with venom. “A gold digger and an illegitimate son. What a perfect match!” They turned and walked away. Ezra quietly comforted me. “Don’t let them get to you.” I smiled. I didn't care. They were just two clowns. I took Ezra's arm, and we walked into the ballroom. A little while later, Rhys and his friends cornered Ezra and me in a remote part of the venue. Rhys had a wicked, satisfied grin. “Tell me, guys. How viral would it go if my little brother and a trashy gold digger got frisky right here on the ballroom floor? That would be explosive, wouldn’t it? Haha!” The crew laughed, their expressions lecherous. Rhys waved his hand. His men immediately moved in and pinned Ezra and me. Vanessa grabbed my jaw, forcing my mouth open, and poured a glass of drugged wine down my throat. Ezra received the same treatment. As soon as we’d swallowed, Rhys and Vanessa clinked glasses and drank theirs, triumphantly. On Rhys’s signal, a powerful spotlight suddenly illuminated our corner of the room. In the dim banquet hall, a man and a woman were now locked together, writhing and tearing at each other's clothes under the intense light.
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