Chapter 4

Two nights later, a new command from August.

"Bring the custom gown for Harlow to the Starlight Gala. Be there by nine."

Cora, her knees still bandaged and aching, did as she was told. She found Harlow in a private suite, preening in front of a mirror.

She handed over the gown. "Here you go, Ms. Hughes."

She turned to leave, wanting nothing more than to escape this place.

"Stay," August said from a chair in the corner. He hadn't even looked at her.

Cora froze, her heart sinking.

A moment later, a man reeking of whiskey stumbled over to her. It was Derrick Patel, one of August's sleazy business partners.

"Well, well, look what we have here," Patel slurred, his eyes roaming over her body. "August, my man, you didn't tell me you were bringing entertainment."

He draped a heavy arm over her shoulders. "August said you'd be happy to keep me company for a few drinks. He's a very generous boss."

Cora looked at August, her eyes wide with disbelief. August just swirled the amber liquid in his glass, his face a cold, indifferent mask. He was allowing this. He was punishing her again.

The smell of the alcohol made her stomach churn. Her illness made her exquisitely sensitive to it. A sharp pain lanced through her gut.

"Come on, sweetheart, don't be shy," Patel said, grabbing her arm and pulling her toward the bar. He shoved a glass of whiskey into her hand. "Drink up."

"I don't drink," Cora said, trying to pull away.

"Don't be like that," another man laughed, joining them. He grabbed her from behind, holding her still while Patel forced the glass to her lips.

The harsh liquor burned its way down her throat. She coughed, sputtering, the pain in her stomach intensifying to a searing agony.

More men gathered around, laughing, treating her like a toy. They passed her around, forcing more and more alcohol on her.

She looked desperately toward August, a silent plea for help in her eyes.

He saw her. She knew he did. He met her gaze for a fraction of a second, his expression unreadable, before turning back to his conversation as if she didn't exist.

That single glance broke the last sliver of hope in her heart.

Patel grew bolder, his hands starting to wander, squeezing her waist, his fingers digging into her hip. She felt a wave of nausea and disgust.

August's eyes flickered toward them again, a silent, almost imperceptible warning. Patel noticed and his hands froze for a moment.

It was the only chance she needed.

Cora wrenched herself free and ran, shoving her way through the laughing crowd, her only thought to get away.

She burst into the ladies' restroom and collapsed in front of the sink, her body heaving.

She vomited violently, the whiskey and bile burning her throat. And then she saw it.

Bright red blood, stark against the white porcelain of the sink.

A pain like a physical blow exploded in her chest. It felt as if her insides were being torn apart.

She gripped the edge of the sink, her knuckles white, gasping for breath. She looked up at her reflection in the mirror. Her face was paper-white, her clothes were disheveled, and there was a smear of blood on her lips. She looked like a ghost.

The door opened and Harlow Hughes walked in. She stopped short, her eyes widening in shock as she saw Cora, the blood in the sink.

Cora quickly fumbled in her purse for her medication, her hands shaking too much to open the bottle. She finally managed to get a pill out and swallowed it dry, right in front of Harlow.

Harlow's eyes darted from Cora's pale face to the pill bottle in her hand. A dark, malicious glint appeared in her eyes.

"Oh, you poor thing," Harlow said, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. She walked over and put a hand on Cora's back. "You look terrible. Come with me, there's a quiet lounge where you can rest."

Cora was too weak and disoriented to resist. Harlow led her to a small, private room down the hall and helped her onto a sofa.

"I'll get you some water," Harlow said, smiling sweetly.

But Harlow didn't get water. She took out her phone and sent a text.

To Derrick Patel: She's waiting for you in the west lounge. She said she wants to be alone with you.

A few minutes later, Harlow's own cheeks began to flush, a strange heat spreading through her body. She had taken a small dose of something herself, just enough to play the part.

The door creaked open.

Derrick Patel stood there, a lecherous grin on his face. "I got your message, sweetheart. Eager, are we?"

He stepped into the room, his eyes fixing on the two women.

"What do you want?" Harlow asked, her voice sharp, hiding behind Cora's exhausted form.

"What do I want?" Patel laughed. "She invited me here," he said, pointing a grubby finger at Cora.

"I... I didn't," Cora whispered, her voice barely audible. She tried to stand, but a wave of dizziness washed over her.

Before she could say another word, the door was thrown open with a deafening bang.

August stood in the doorway, his face a mask of pure fury.