Chapter 3

Mason parked the Jeep outside a run-down apartment building in the shady part of town. The hallway lights were completely broken.

Up on the third floor, the keyhole of our apartment door had been maliciously filled with superglue.

Lily tugged at my jeans, pointing at the lock.

"Broken."

I was just about to call a locksmith when Mason stepped forward.

With a single, powerful kick—*BANG*—the heavy door flew open, dust raining down from the frame.

The apartment was stripped bare. Dirty footprints covered the hardwood floor.

Every piece of furniture the Millers had bought was gone. My and Lily’s old clothes had been shredded into pieces, thrown on the floor, and trampled into the black mud.

Lily ran to the corner of the room, pulling a dirty ceramic bowl out from under a pile of trash.

"Treasure."

My eyes welled with tears. I was about to tell her to throw the dirty thing away.

But Mason took the bowl from her, shining his tactical flashlight on the bottom of it.

"This is a genuine Ming Dynasty blue-and-white ceramic bowl. It has a tiny chip, but to the right collector, this is easily worth fifty grand."

He held up five fingers with a quiet grin.

Suddenly, the sharp clacking of high heels echoed from the stairwell.

Carter walked in with Tiffany Vance clinging to his arm. A large white bandage was plastered over his forehead.

Tiffany pinched her nose in disgust, using her expensive stiletto to kick aside the shredded fabric on the floor.

"Babe, is this the dog kennel your ex-wife lives in? I can't even find a clean spot to step. How pathetic."

Carter threw a property deed relinquishment form right at my face.

"Sign it. The down payment for this crappy apartment came from my family. You walked out of the divorce with nothing. You have no right to stay here."

I stared at the paper, my hands shaking with pure anger.

Tiffany lunged forward to grab my keys, her long acrylic nails almost scratching Lily’s eye.

"What are you looking at, you little orphan? And you, you washed-up housewife, get the hell out of here!"

Lily stared directly at the bridge of Tiffany’s nose, pointing her tiny finger.

"Fake."

Tiffany shrieked, instantly lunging forward to claw at Lily's face.

"You brat! Who are you calling fake? My face is one hundred percent natural!"

Mason stepped in front of us, grabbing Tiffany’s wrist in a iron grip.

Tiffany writhed, trying to scratch Mason’s face with her free hand.

"Let go of me! You broke gigolo! Keep looking at me like that and I’ll have my guys gouge your eyes out!"

Lily peeked out from behind Mason’s leg.

"Nose. Fake."

Mason suddenly let go. Unable to stop her own momentum, Tiffany stumbled forward and smashed her face hard against the wooden doorframe.

Tiffany clutched her nose, screaming in agony as blood poured through her fingers.

When she looked up, the bridge of her nose was completely bent to the left. The silicone implant was visibly pushing against her skin. Her entire face looked monstrously deformed.

Terrified, Carter stumbled backward, grabbing the hysterical Tiffany and running down the stairs.

The next day, I sold the Ming bowl for fifty thousand dollars and immediately enrolled Lily in the best private preschool in the city.

However, the principal called me hours later to cancel her enrollment. Carter was pulling strings behind the scenes to blacklist us.

I spent days applying for jobs, but every door was slammed in my face. Finally, Mason took me to a small, hidden security firm he ran.

Inside, a few burly men were gathered around a computer screen, watching the stock market. The screen was a sea of red. A bald, muscular guy was slamming his fist on the desk, cursing.

Lily, holding her baby bottle, walked over to the monitor. She tapped on the stock ticker that was plummeting the fastest.

"Moon."

The bald guy looked at Mason, who was quietly polishing his combat boots.

Mason didn't even look up.

"Go all in. If we lose, it’s on me. If we win, buy the kid some candy."

The guys gritted their teeth and poured all their capital into the stock.

Ten minutes later, the stock line shot straight up, hitting the daily limit.

The office erupted into wild cheers. The tough-looking guards hugged each other, laughing like kids.

Just then, a gold-embossed envelope was slipped under the front door.

It was an invitation to Carter and Tiffany’s engagement party. They had sent it to me on purpose.

My grip tightened around the heavy paper.

Lily picked up a black marker and drew a messy black cloud right over Carter's name.

"Doom."

Mason stood up, putting on his polished boots and a well-fitted, charcoal-grey suit.

"We're going. Why wouldn't we? If someone begs for a slap in the face, it’s only polite to deliver."

The engagement party was held at a five-star hotel. The parking lot was packed with multi-million-dollar supercars.

Helen Miller, holding a glass of expensive red wine, swaggered toward me the moment we walked in.

"Well, well. If it isn't the cursed leech we threw out. How did you even get in wearing such cheap rags?"