Unable to stand by and watch Kingston Stone take any more lashes, Raven Sullivan lunged forward, catching the riding crop mid-air with her bare hand.

"Mr. Stone, stop! Hitting him won't change anything."

Donald Stone’s expression shifted when he saw Raven, his guilt quickly curdling into an even sharper fury toward his son. "It is my failure as a father. He has betrayed you, and I will see him punished for it!"

"This is between us. Please, let us settle it ourselves," she said, her voice steady. It was an out, a path of retreat she was offering him. Donald huffed, his chest heaving, before finally lowering his arm.

Marie Stone stepped forward, clasping Raven’s wrist, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Raven, please, know this: you are the only daughter-in-law we recognize."

Raven looked at the elderly couple, their faces worn with age and sorrow. It was a hollow comfort. They hadn’t always felt this way; they had looked down on her, sneering at her humble roots and her "unrefined" career. It wasn't until a year ago, when she became pregnant, that they softened and accepted her into the family. Even after she lost the baby, the Stones insisted that Kingston take responsibility.

They were good people. And she was the one who had failed them. She had been a fraud from the very beginning.

Raven offered Marie a faint, fragile smile. "Mrs. Stone, we’ll talk. Please, go inside and rest."

The couple retreated into the manor with worried glances. Raven then helped Kingston to a stone bench in the courtyard and signaled for a servant to bring the first-aid kit. As she reached for his wounds, he recoiled, his brow furrowed.

"I can do it myself," he snapped.

Her hand hovered in the empty air for a few heartbeats before she slowly pulled it back. A bitter, jagged smile touched her lips. Even with Alison Hayes out of sight, Kingston refused her touch. When Kingston Stone truly loved someone, he gave them his entire soul. She had once held that devotion, but she had lost it.

Kingston efficiently sliced open his own shirt, revealing the hard, corded muscles of his back as he began to clean and dress his own wounds. He looked up, catching her staring at him with a distant, haunted expression, and let out a cold, sharp laugh.

"Don't think that just because you buttered up my parents, I’m going to take you back. I’m already tired of you, Raven."

She blinked, coming back to herself. "I know."

Her voice was so calm, so devoid of protest, that it seemed to choke the air right out of Kingston.

"However," Raven continued, "you are well aware that because of this scandal, my reputation is in the gutter. Kingston, you owe me compensation."

He shot her a freezing, sidelong glance. "How much do you want?"

"Five million," she said, her gaze steady, locking onto his. "And an invitation to the Gilded Masquerade."

The Gilded Masquerade—a high-end, underground event hosted annually by Hector Barnes. It was a night of masked faces and dangerous shadows, held at the Barnes estate every December. Kingston was always invited, but he never attended. Raven had long suspected that the disappearances of those young women and the convenient, untimely deaths of several starlets were all linked to that gala.

She had to get inside.

Kingston’s eyebrows knit together. "What could you possibly want with the Gilded Masquerade?"

Raven shrugged, keeping her face blank. "I need to fish for a new benefactor. Since you’re done with me, I have to find a replacement, don't I?"

Kingston stiffened, a flicker of raw rage crossing his features. "Raven Sullivan, I never realized you were so cheap."

"I could never compare to the refined, angelic presence of Miss Hayes," she countered calmly. She watched him, her eyes dark and unreadable. "Well, Kingston? You promised to compensate me. You wouldn't go back on your word, would you?"

Kingston’s eyes burned with a faint, angry red. He practically spat the words through clenched teeth: "You’ll get your invitation by the end of the month. Go, if you’re so desperate. Just don't come crawling back to me when you get burned."

Raven gazed at him, her smile faint and ghost-like. "Don't worry. Even if I end up in a shallow grave, I won't ask you for a thing."

She knew the mission was a suicide run; she was terrified that her words might be a prophecy. But as the thought crossed her mind, she felt a strange, chilling sense of peace. She had been chasing this case for years. Even if the path led straight into the lion’s den, even if it was a bottomless abyss, she would see the truth with her own eyes.

Kingston watched her expression of cold resolve, the veins in his forehead pulsing. "Raven, tell me—did you ever actually love me?"

She paused, caught off guard. "Why do you ask?"

"If you loved me, you wouldn't be looking for a new man so quickly after I dumped you."

"If that’s what you want to believe, then sure," she said.

She turned and walked away from the Stone estate with a finality that chilled her own bones. She was terrified that if she stayed a second longer, he would see the tears she was fighting to keep back.

Had she never loved him? How could that be?

A year ago, they had been on a mountain retreat when Kingston caught a brutal strain of the flu. A fever spiked, putting his life at risk, and a relentless storm caused a landslide, sealing off the mountain roads. Ambulances couldn't reach them. She had grit her teeth, dragging him—an unconscious, dead weight—through miles of slick, treacherous mud, step after agonizing step, until they finally reached the rescue teams.

She had collapsed the moment he was safe, her dress soaked in blood. She had been three months pregnant at the time, and the physical toll had been too much. The baby was gone. She had lied to him, telling him it was a medical choice, just so he wouldn't carry the weight of guilt.

If she hadn't loved him, would she have survived those wet, broken trails? If she hadn't loved him, would she have gone to such lengths to shield him from his own self-reproach?

But it was all in the past now. Their beginning had been a mistake, and they were destined to end up as strangers.

***

Life after breaking up with Kingston had been miserable. Since her first day at the store, the lecherous manager, Jerry Armstrong, had been harassing her. It was only when Kingston had publicly claimed her that the predator had backed off. Now that he knew she had lost her protector, he was back to his old ways—heaping the worst, dirtiest jobs onto her and dropping crude hints that she only needed to "pay the price" to have an easy life.

Raven just kept her head down. The Gilded Masquerade was only ten days away. She had a gut feeling that this event would be the key to finishing her mission. Once it was over, she could quit this job for good.

But Jerry only grew more brazen, eventually demanding she accompany him to a client dinner. As he forced drink after drink on her, Raven realized the situation was spiraling out of control. She faked an emergency and ducked into the hallway, desperate for air.

Suddenly, a familiar voice drifted from an adjacent lounge.

"I’ll drink this one for Alison. Leave her out of it."

It was Kingston. He was already introducing Alison Hayes to his inner circle. As Alison slipped out to wash her face, the group of sycophants began to jeer.

"Kingston, the new girl is a stunner. I wonder if she’s just as pretty underneath? How does she compare to Raven? Who’s the 'purer' one?"

Another playboy laughed, "Raven’s definitely the fairest, and that waist, those curves..."

Kingston scoffed, his tone shifting to something chillingly formal. "Keep your mouths shut. Alison is clean. If I hear one more word of that filth, I’ll rip your tongues out."

The room went silent. They all knew Alison was the apple of his eye; none of them dared to mock her again.

Standing in the hall, Raven felt as though a sandstorm had swallowed her, suffocating and blinding. Six months ago, barely recovered from her miscarriage, Kingston had dragged her through the city’s nightlife, pulling her into clubs and bars. He had forced kisses on her, ripped her clothes, and humiliated her in front of these very same friends—on balconies, in luxury cars, in public parks. There was one time, at a villa party, when he had pressed her against the floor-to-ceiling glass windows while his friends played cards on the lawn outside, watching the entire display.

Kingston had never defended her against them. He had certainly never called her "clean."

Perhaps, in his eyes, she was nothing more than a social climber—a "dirty" retail girl.

*It’s fine,* she thought, her heart turning to ice. *This is exactly as it should be.*

She turned to leave, but the door swung open. Kingston stepped out, a cigarette in his hand, and walked straight into her. Both of them froze.

At that moment, Jerry Armstrong stumbled out of the lounge, his face slick with sweat. He squinted at Raven, his voice oily. "Raven! Don't think you're skipping out on the drinks. Get back here, now."

Kingston’s eyes flickered to Jerry with a murderous intensity. Instinctively, he reached out and grabbed Raven’s hand, pulling her behind his back. He opened his mouth to speak, but a shrill voice cut through the air.

"Kingston! I told you a thousand times, no smoking!"

Alison Hayes trotted over, her expression curdling the second she saw Kingston holding Raven’s hand. "Kingston, you lied to me! You said you’d cut ties with your ex!"

She clearly knew who Raven was now, and she wasn't hiding her hostility. After spitting at Kingston, she shot a venomous glare at Raven and stomped toward the elevator.

Kingston panicked. He dropped Raven’s hand without a second thought and chased after her, calling out, "Alison, wait!"

Raven heard him clearly as he hurried away: "What ex? She was just a playmate, that’s all. Don't let it get to you."

*A playmate.* For two years, she had been a playmate. She had actually believed she had his love. But to him, she was just something to toy with. And of course, that was the truth—if he hadn't just been playing, would he have treated her with such absolute indifference?

Raven laughed at herself, her eyes hollow and filled with a cold, aching misery.

Jerry, seeing the scene, felt his last bit of caution evaporate. He reached out, grabbing Raven by the waist and dragging her back toward the lounge with a cruel, satisfied sneer.

"Looks like Mr. Stone is truly done with you. Let’s see who’s going to save you now."