Chapter 1

It all started because my fiancé’s childhood best friend claimed I ruined her custom couture gown—the one meant for her livestream comeback.

To cheer her up in front of millions of viewers, my fiancé dragged me before the camera. I had no makeup on, wearing nothing but faded pajamas.

He pinned a product link to the stream.

The title read: Total Leech of a Woman. Starting bid: $1,500. Highest bidder takes her home.

The live chat exploded with mockery and humiliation, urging him to dump this drab, pathetic loser.

Watching the viewer count skyrocket, he muted the mic, looked down at me, and sneered,

“Since you ruined Cecelia’s comeback, you’re going to pay for the traffic with your dignity.”

“Drop to your knees and apologize to Cecelia on camera, and I’ll take the link down.”

“Don't be ungrateful. Aside from me, who the hell would want a useless piece of trash who only knows how to do chores?”

I stared at the screen without a trace of emotion. Behind my back, I sent a direct message to the stream’s top tipper.

The very next second, a massive animation swept across the screen: Top Contributor has purchased the item.

My fiancé stared at that notoriously wealthy handle. His hands shook, and his phone slipped, crashing onto the floor.

The stream was practically blowing up.

Cruel comments flooded the screen like venom, thick enough to suffocate anyone.

“She looks so depressing. No wonder Mr. Hayes is selling her off.”

“I wouldn’t take her if you paid me fifteen hundred bucks, let alone buy her.”

“Just get on your knees and apologize to Goddess Cecelia, you shameless psycho!”

Christian Hayes lounged on the leather sofa, his arm wrapped around Cecelia, who was dabbing at fake tears.

He glanced at the analytics backend, completely unable to hide his smug satisfaction as the traffic spiked.

Cecelia’s eyes were rimmed with red, her voice dripping with frail innocence.

“Christian, forget it. Amber probably didn’t do it on purpose.”

“Even though that couture gown cost nearly half a million and was supposed to be my comeback piece...”

“She’s still been with you for three years. Putting her up for auction in public like this... isn't it too humiliating for her?”

She sounded like she was begging for mercy on my behalf, yet her hand deliberately pushed the camera closer, shoving it right into my face.

I wore an old pair of washed-out pajamas, my hair a tangled mess, my skin pale and lifeless.

For the past three years, for Christian and his fashion empire, I had slaved away over design sketches day and night, destroying my own health in the process.

Christian let out a cold laugh and slammed his phone onto the coffee table.

“Give her face? Does she even deserve it?”

“She ruined your gown. She ruined the company’s cash cow!”

“Amber, I’m giving you three seconds. If you don't get on your knees and apologize to Cecelia right now, I swear to God I’ll really sell you off.”

“You’re only good for cooking and cleaning anyway. Keeping those hands of yours around is a total waste.”

I bit down hard on my lower lip until the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth.

“Christian, I didn’t ruin that dress.”

“Cecelia cut it herself just to frame me!”

“And besides, I’m the one who drew the original sketches for that dress in the first place!”

Smack!

A violent slap landed squarely across my face.

Christian pointed his finger at my nose, the veins on his forehead bulging with fury.

“You dare lie to my face! Cecelia is an internationally renowned designer. Why would she ever need to frame you?”

“You’re just a college dropout housewife. What the hell do you know about fashion design?”

“It looks like you won’t learn your place until I teach you a real lesson.”

He spun back toward the camera and shouted at the top of his lungs:

“Alright, chat, the bidding starts now!”

“Whoever puts up the highest bid takes this woman home tonight!”

The live stream went completely feral. Obscene, disgusting comments flooded the chat.

Someone bid eleven hundred. Someone else bid twenty-five hundred.

As if I weren’t a living, breathing human being, but a piece of trash up for clearance.

Staring at Christian’s heartless, ruthless face, every last ounce of warmth in my heart froze solid.

I slid my spare phone out of my pocket and opened a chat that had been gathering dust for years.

I typed out a single message: Sean, take me away. All my designs are yours.

Almost the exact second I hit send.

A blinding, golden firework animation exploded across the entire stream screen.

The notification chime chimed frantically:

User ‘Sean’ sent Ultimate Rocket x100!

User ‘Sean’ placed a bid of $1,500,000 and purchased the item!

The entire chat went dead silent.

Christian froze. He stared at that shimmering gold VIP handle in utter disbelief.

It was the heir of the city's most powerful conglomerate, Sean Vance.

He was also Christian’s fiercest rival in the business world.

“How is that possible... How could a man like Sean Vance ever look at garbage like you?”

Christian’s voice trembled.

Before he could even process it, the front door of the penthouse was kicked open with a deafening crash.

Sean walked in, draped in a tailored black trench coat, flanked by two rows of imposing bodyguards, carrying an aura cold enough to freeze the room.

He strode directly toward me, slipped off his trench coat, and wrapped it around my shivering body.

“Come with me.”

His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried an undeniable, absolute authority.

Christian snapped to his feet, lunging forward to block the exit.

“Mr. Vance, this is a family matter. What right do you have to interfere?”

“Besides, this woman is my fiancée. The live stream was just a joke!”

Sean spared him only a chilling glance, pulling out his phone to display the completed payment confirmation.

“I paid the price. She belongs to me now.”

“Are you planning to go back on your deal, Mr. Hayes?”

Christian’s face twisted into an ugly shade of pale green. He looked at me, then back at Sean.

Suddenly, realization seemed to dawn on him. He pointed an accusatory finger at me and roared:

“Amber! You’ve been sleeping with this bastard behind my back the whole time, haven't you?”

“No wonder you refused to apologize to Cecelia—you already lined up your next sugar daddy!”

“You filthy whore! You dare cheat on me?!”

Cecelia poured fuel on the fire from the side, sniffling softly:

“Amber, how could you do this to Christian? You have no shame at all.”

“Since you’re so eager to run off with Mr. Vance, I guess you won't be needing those hands anymore, right?”

“After all, Christian hates it when other men touch things that belong to him.”

Those words completely shattered Christian’s last shred of sanity.

His eyes turned bloodshot, like an unhinged predator.

He lunged forward like a maniac, grabbing my right wrist in a vice grip.

That was my drawing hand. The only thing in this life I was ever proud of.

“You want to leave? Fine!”

“Leave these damn hands behind first!”

He snatched the heavy crystal ashtray off the table and brought it smashing down with all his might.

Crack!

The sickening sound of shattering bone echoed through the living room.

An agonizing wave of pain tore through my entire body. My vision went black, and an ear-splitting scream ripped from my throat.

“Aaaah—!”

My right hand dangled limp and useless, my fingers twisted at a grotesque, unnatural angle.

Christian threw the bloodstained ashtray aside, chest heaving heavily, a sadistic smirk of vengeance plastered across his face.

“There. Now you’re just a cripple.”

“Tell me, Mr. Vance, do you still want a piece of trash like this?”