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The elite heirs of New York��s high society had booked out the entire terrace of the coastal Maine estate for one reason: to watch me crawl up the hundred jagged stone steps from the freezing beach on my bare knees. Three years ago, during a disastrous rock-climbing trip in Yosemite, Julian Vance concluded that I had deliberately cut the safety rope, causing his first love to plummet and shatter her spine. She was paralyzed from the waist down. Tonight, amidst a torrential winter downpour, Julian parked her custom wheelchair at the very top of the cliffside terrace, looking down at me. "Just one more step," Julian��s voice cut through the howling wind, amplified by the cold acoustics of the stone walls. "Take off your waterproof jacket and lay it over the puddle so Mia��s tires don't get muddy. Then kneel and wipe the rainwater off her leather boots with your bare hands. Do that, and I might just consider your atonement complete." The surrounding billionaires and trust-fund socialites erupted into roaring laughter. They leaned against the glass balustrades, swirling amber whiskey in their crystal glasses, tossing black Amex cards onto the patio tables to place their bets. "I��ll bet a million bucks this desperate dog will do it," a tech heir sneered, flicking a cigar stub into the rain. "She��d strip down to nothing in this freezing rain just for one word of forgiveness from Julian." Julian stood tall and immaculate in his tailored dark overcoat, looking down at me with the detached arrogance of a god. He casually turned a silver Zippo lighter between his long, elegant fingers. "Did you hear them, Clara?" Julian��s tone was laced with absolute disdain. "Take it off. This is the ninety-ninth time you��ve begged me to take you back. If you behave today, I��ll show you some mercy and let you stay by my side as my official partner." Everyone on the terrace assumed I would act exactly as I had for the past three years��that I would wag my tail, swallow my pride, and grovel for his scraps. Instead, I slowly reached out with my numb, bleeding fingers and unhooked the silver locket from my neck��the one Julian had given me when we were teenagers. With a flick of my wrist, I tossed it over the railing. It disappeared into the raging ocean below. "Julian," I said, my voice eerily calm against the storm. "I don't want your forgiveness anymore." My younger brother, Leo, who had secretly sold his blood and organs on the black market to pay the exorbitant restitution fees Julian had saddled us with, had died of massive organ failure last night in a sterile, lonely hospital room. I no longer had any reason to care about living. "Oh, looking for a new angle?" one of the socialites mocked, leaning over the glass. "She��s not kneeling! She��s throwing tantrums now!" The crowd laughed harder. "Julian, I��m adding another five million," a voice shouted from the back. "I bet she crawls back up here in ten minutes. That locket was her most prized possession. She��s going to regret throwing it." "I��ll match that five million. She��ll kneel. She always kneels." The betting shouts echoed around me, blending with the crash of the waves. I stood on the edge of the stone steps, my jeans torn to shreds, my knees covered in thick, dark scabs that had split open, bleeding freely into the freezing rain. For three years, I had endured every humiliation Julian devised. I had walked through hell, sacrificed my career, my dignity, and my future, all to appease his wrath. Mia sat in her high-tech wheelchair, wrapping a thick cashmere blanket tightly around her frail shoulders. She looked down at me with wide, innocent eyes. "Clara, please don't be stubborn," Mia urged, her voice trembling with manufactured sweetness. "The wind is so strong. If you catch hypothermia and die out here, it will really ruin Julian��s evening." She paused, leaning slightly forward, her voice dropping to a whisper only those closest could hear. "Besides, you haven't finished paying for your sins yet." Julian raised his chin slightly, signaling his assistant. A steaming cup of hot ginger tea was brought forward and held out toward me. "Your hands are cracked and bleeding," Julian said, his eyes scanning my pathetic state. "Drink this first. Atonement is atonement, but I��m not actually trying to kill you." My legs felt like jelly, trembling violently from the freezing cold. I didn't reach for the cup. The icy rain felt like glass shards hitting my face. The fabric of my jeans, soaked in my own blood and the freezing rain, had frozen stiff against my skin. Julian��s gaze darkened. "Clara, finish this last task, and this whole ordeal is over." "I will take you back to Manhattan. I��ll give you the status you��ve always wanted." I pulled my cracked, bleeding hands back into the sleeves of my jacket. "There��s no need." The red woven bracelet on my wrist��the one Leo had made for me when he was a child��had snapped earlier today. Only a small, frayed red thread remained. Julian frowned, placing the ginger tea on the stone balustrade. He turned to tuck the cashmere blanket tighter around Mia��s legs. "Are you cold, Mia? Should we go back inside the house?" Mia reached out, gently grasping the cuff of his bespoke coat. "I��m not cold, Julian. I��m just worried about Clara. Her younger brother is still waiting for her back in the city. Don't be too hard on her." My hands clenched into tight fists inside my pockets, my nails digging into my frozen palms. "He died last night," I said. The laughter on the terrace stopped for a fraction of a second, before someone let out a loud, mocking snort. "Here we go again." "Last month she claimed her adoptive mother was on her deathbed. Before that, she said the orphanage she grew up in was being foreclosed." "Now she��s making up a dead brother." "Julian, her acting skills are getting out of hand." Julian��s brow furrowed in irritation. He snatched a napkin from a passing waiter and tossed it down at me. "Stop using your family as a punchline for your lies. It��s pathetic, even for you." I slowly pulled my hand out of my inner pocket and retrieved a crumpled, rain-soaked piece of paper. I held it out toward him. The death certificate. The bottom corner was already dissolving from the rain. Julian barely glanced at it before letting out a scoff. He didn't even reach for it. He just let the wind blow it out of my hand. "Clara, your ability to forge documents is truly improving," Julian mocked, his eyes turning cold. "Is this because Mia's legs were aching yesterday, and to make her feel better, I intentionally delayed transferring your brother's monthly medical funds? It was only delayed by one day. I refuse to believe he died over a twenty-four-hour delay." I stared at him. My throat felt like it was stuffed with blood-soaked cotton. I couldn't breathe. Yes. It was only one day. But on that day, Leo��s internal bleeding had started. He was curled up into a tight ball on his stark white hospital bed, trembling in agony, lacking even the strength to scream. To scrape together the emergency surgery fees, I had thrown away every last ounce of my pride. I had dropped to my knees in the hospital corridors, begging doctors, administrators, and former friends for loans. I had abandoned all my dignity. But tragically, Leo had seen it. My sweet, fiercely protective younger brother, who had always viewed me as his entire universe, who could never bear to see his sister bow her head to anyone, couldn't handle the sight of me kneeling on the linoleum floor, crying and begging for his life. While the nurses were distracted prepping a blood transfusion, he dragged his bleeding, broken body out of the room, made his way to the hospital roof, and threw himself off the ten-story building. And now, Julian was looking at me like he was a generous god granting a peasant a boon. "Enough with the theatrics. Your punishment for today is over," Julian commanded, checking his Rolex. "Once we head back to the city, I��ll arrange for your brother to be transferred to a private facility in Switzerland for better treatment." A hollow, broken laugh escaped my lips. "There's no need. It��s entirely unnecessary now." Julian��s handsome face hardened into a scowl. "Clara, stop throwing a tantrum." "The wind is picking up, and Mia didn't bring a heavy enough coat. Take off your waterproof jacket and lay it over the puddle for her." I looked down at the bright yellow waterproof jacket I was wearing. It was a birthday gift from Leo. He had saved up for three months, eating nothing but instant noodles, to buy it for me. He had smiled his bright, crooked smile and said, ��The coastal winds are harsh, Clara. With this jacket, you won't ever have to feel cold.�� But now, he was gone. This jacket couldn't protect me from the cold of Julian��s cruelty, and it certainly couldn't protect Leo from death. Rather than let this precious gift be tainted by my pathetic existence any longer, I might as well use it to finalize this nightmare. Without a word of protest, I reached up and unzipped the jacket. The crowd above went wild. "Here we go! She��s doing it! I��m doubling my bet!" The biting, freezing wind immediately tore through my thin t-shirt, slicing into my skin like icy knives. I walked up the remaining steps, my bare knees leaving bloody prints on the stone, and approached Mia��s wheelchair. I folded the yellow jacket neatly and placed it directly over the muddy puddle beneath her designer boots. "My brother bought this for me," I said, my voice entirely devoid of emotion. "Try not to ruin it." Very few people in this elite circle knew the truth. When Mia had first returned to New York high society, an illegitimate daughter with no connections, I was the one who had introduced her to Julian��s inner circle. When the wealthy heirs mocked her origins, I was the one who stood in front of her, shielding her from their cruelty. Eventually, she transformed into the beloved "Princess Mia," the darling of the elite. And I was transformed into the vicious, jealous villain who supposedly crippled her. Mia��s perfectly manicured fingers twitched beneath her cashmere blanket. Julian stepped forward, his body naturally shifting to block Mia from me, his eyes glaring with suspicion. He suddenly reached out and grabbed my wrist in a vice-like grip. "What are you doing, Clara?" Julian demanded, his voice dropping to a dangerous octave. "You already ruined Mia once. Are you trying to hurt her again, right in front of me?" I looked down at the spot where his fingers were digging into my bruised, freezing skin. "Let go. I��m just trying to pick up the last thing my brother left me." Julian paused, a flicker of confusion crossing his face, and his grip loosened instinctively. From the pocket of the folded jacket on the ground, a small, waterlogged receipt had fallen out. I knelt in the freezing puddle to pick it up. The ink was faded, but I could still read the scrawled handwriting on the back. ��Sis, the coast gets freezing at night. Dress warm. Stop pretending you��re never cold.�� As my trembling fingers grazed the paper, Mia suddenly jerked her foot back, letting out a sharp gasp, acting as if I had lunged at her. Julian��s face twisted in anger, but before he could shout at me again, heavy footsteps echoed from the estate��s side entrance. A local courier in a rain poncho jogged onto the terrace, carrying a battered, cheap canvas duffel bag. "Excuse me, is there a Clara Vance here? Or Clara Ruan?" the courier shouted over the storm. "The county morgue asked me to drop this off. They said it��s the deceased��s personal effects." Instantly, the laughter on the terrace died down. Every pair of eyes locked onto that pathetic, ragged duffel bag. I pushed myself off the ground and reached out to take it. But as my fingertips brushed the wet canvas, a thick, frayed piece of nylon cord slipped out of the bag��s zipper.

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