Chapter 1

I grew up abroad, and my mom, terrified I’d bring home some foreign husband, arranged a fiancé for me back in New York City—a man she swore was the total package. She wanted me to fly back for the engagement.

I was in a high-end boutique picking out a dress for the party and had just settled on a stunning, cream-colored strapless gown.

As I was about to try it on, a woman next to me glanced at the dress in my hands and snapped at the sales associate, "That one has a unique style. Bring it to me to try on."

The associate immediately snatched the dress from my hands.

"There's a thing called first come, first served," I said, my voice sharp with frustration. "I saw it first. Don't you people have any decency?"

She shot me a contemptuous look. "This dress costs twenty-eight thousand dollars. Can a pauper like you even afford it?"

"I'm the cherished stepsister of Grayson Sinclair, the CEO of the Sinclair Group," she declared, puffing out her chest. "In New York City, the Sinclairs are the rules!"

What a coincidence. Grayson Sinclair was my fiancé.

I pulled out my phone and called him right then and there. "Your 'stepsister' just stole the dress for our engagement party. What are you going to do about it?"

…

That term, "stepsister," always sounded a little too intimate, a little too murky. If Grayson couldn't give me a good explanation today, this engagement was definitely off.

But to my shock, his voice came through the line, cold as ice. "Who is this? And since when is my relationship with Yara any business of an outsider like you?"

Before I could even tell him I was his fiancée, he hung up.

Fury surged through me. That bastard, Grayson Sinclair, hadn't even bothered to save my number.

Beside me, the woman, Yara, was gloating. "You bitch! Did you really think getting Grayson's number meant you could climb into his world? You're delusional!"

Her eyes raked over me with disdain. "Even the cleaning staff at the Sinclair Group dress better than you."

My daily wardrobe is all about comfort and simplicity; I don't care about brand names. I never thought that would become a weapon for someone to use against me.

"What century is this? Still judging a book by its cover? Grayson must be blind to have a stepsister like you."

Her little drama had completely ruined my mood for trying on dresses.

I walked over to the counter with the gown. "I'll take this."

The cashier hesitated, looking at me nervously. "Miss, our policy is to serve our VIP members first."

Yara's smirk widened as she slapped a glittering gold card on the counter.

"This is a VIP card you only get after spending a million dollars here. What are you, some broke nobody, trying to pretend you belong?"

I’m not usually one to pick fights, but today, Yara had successfully ignited a fire in me.

I pulled out a black card and handed it to the cashier, trying to keep my voice steady. "Sign me up for a membership. Then ring up the dress."

Yara’s face twisted as she threatened the cashier. "New York is Sinclair territory. If you dare sell her that dress today, I'll have my brother buy this entire boutique tomorrow."

The cashier shrank back. "Miss, I'm just an employee. I can't afford to offend the Sinclair Group."

People around us started whispering, trying to warn me. "I've seen that Miss Yara around. Mr. Sinclair really dotes on her. You should just let it go."

"Last time someone crossed her, the Sinclair Group drove their company into bankruptcy."

"Even if you have a little money, it's nothing compared to the Sinclair empire. You should apologize and beg her to leave you alone."

Hearing the crowd fawn over her, Yara looked like she was about to float to the ceiling with arrogance.

"You bitch," she sneered. "Get on your knees right now and scream 'I'm a pathetic, trying-hard bitch, and I was wrong' three times. If you do, I might consider letting you go."

In my twenty-six years of life, I had never met someone so brazenly arrogant.

"Say that again? You want me to scream what?"

"Are you deaf? 'I'm a pathetic, trying-hard bitch, and I was wrong.' Can't you hear me?"

A slow smile spread across my face. "Oh, I heard you perfectly. And since you already know you're a pathetic, trying-hard bitch, why don't you get the hell out of my sight and stop being an eyesore?"

Yara's face flushed with rage when she realized I'd tricked her. She shrieked and lunged at me, her arms flailing.