The Game of Breaking Bones

I climbed into the black Bentley the Holloway family had sent and opened my phone, logging into a private online forum.

The forum was exclusive to the city's most elite socialites. I had access only because the Holloways had activated all my top-tier privileges after confirming my identity.

A pinned post on the front page was surging with activity. The title read: *The Golden Boy Returns -- Victoria Sterling Secures Her Throne.*

I tapped the post. Inside were photos and videos from last night at The Grand Pavilion.

In the video, Julian knelt on one knee, sliding a ring onto Victoria's finger. Victoria threw herself into his arms, blushing.

The comments section was on fire.

Someone asked: *What happened to that scholarship girl he used as a shield? I heard she worked illegal shifts at a chemical plant for three years trying to fix his leg. Wrecked her health completely.*

Victoria Sterling's own account replied directly: *Just a cheap little tool. Julian says she's too clingy -- getting rid of her will take some effort. But toss her a hundred grand and she'll probably crawl back to whatever hole she came from, grateful as can be.*

Another comment followed: *Poor thing. Sold out and didn't even know it. His leg was never broken -- he hired a special effects makeup artist for the fake injury.*

A hundred grand. I stared at those words, my eyes burning.

For three years, to buy him the imported supplements that were supposed to heal his leg, I'd gone to an underground clinic to be a test subject for unapproved drugs. My arms were covered in needle marks. I'd lost my hair in clumps from the side effects.

I thought I was saving the man I loved.

I was nothing more than a plaything for their circle -- a bet, a joke, a convenient decoy to dodge an arranged marriage.

My phone lit up. A message from Julian.

*Lily, my leg's actually feeling better today. Boss says I'm doing great -- might make me full-time next month. Once I save up enough for a down payment, we'll buy a little place and get married.*

Right after, he sent a photo. Him in oil-stained work gloves, biting into a dollar burger.

I looked at the photo. I didn't cry. I dialed Mr. Pemberton directly.

"Pemberton, take me straight to headquarters. Tell my father I've agreed to take over the Holloway Group."

At three o'clock that afternoon, I sat in the CEO's office at Holloway Group headquarters and signed the final asset transfer document.

The company's General Counsel stood nearby and respectfully handed me a file.

"Miss Holloway, Ashford Corporation is facing a massive gap in its cash flow. They're critically dependent on our upcoming capital injection for the Southside development project. Without our funding, Ashford will be facing bankruptcy liquidation by next month."

I flipped through the documents, my fingertip tracing past Julian Ashford's name.

"Notify all senior management. Suspend all cooperation assessments with Ashford Corporation." I closed the folder, my voice level.

The General Counsel paused for a beat, then nodded. "Understood. However, the Ashfords are hosting a homecoming gala tonight at The Belmont Grand Hotel. The family patriarch sent a personal invitation, hoping Chairman Holloway would attend."

"My father won't be going. I'll attend on behalf of the Holloway family."

I stood and walked to the massive floor-to-ceiling window, looking out over the sprawling city below.

Julian Ashford, since you love playing games so much, let's play a real one.

That evening at seven, the stylist dressed me in an emerald-green haute couture gown. Around my neck hung the Holloway family's heirloom emerald necklace.

Looking at the striking, ice-cold woman in the mirror, I barely recognized myself as the Lily who used to eat bread and canned soup in a basement.

I picked up a tube of deep red lipstick and applied it slowly, deliberately.

The game was about to begin.