Chapter 1The Silk Trap

As I rose from the A-lister’s bed, he held out a pair of torn silk stockings, his voice a low purr.

“Put them on. So exquisite.”

The moment my fingers brushed against the ruined silk, a series of messages flared in front of my eyes, sharp and clear as text on a screen.

【Heiress, throw them away! That bastard thinks torn stockings are trashy. He’d never let his angel wear them, so he’s conning you into it.】

【Tomorrow, at your mother’s funeral, he’s going to publicly announce he’s with her.】

【He’s a dog who only wants your money, Willow! For God’s sake, kick him to the curb!】

…

Aidan Thorne knelt at my feet, a look of confusion on his perfect face. “What is it? Did I not rip them beautifully enough for you?”

A slow smile spread across my lips.

In one fluid motion, I wrapped the stocking tight around his neck.

“Looking for a death wish?”

* * *

The face that had graced a thousand movie screens, the face that could withstand the unforgiving lens of a camera, instantly flushed a deep, desperate crimson.

I held on, watching the life drain from his eyes until he was on the verge of blacking out.

Only then did I release him.

He stared at me, gasping, disbelief warring with fear in his eyes.

I patted his cheek, my touch deceptively gentle. “You love only me?”

Gulping down air, he looked up at me with an expression of pure, desperate devotion—the kind of look a man gives his savior. “Of course.”

For a heartbeat, I was lost in a memory. I was ten, and my mother had taken me to an orphanage to sponsor children in need. I’d chosen ten of them, all little boys with faces as perfect as porcelain dolls.

Aidan had been one of them.

Two years ago, a leaked audition tape of him playing a young, ruthless king went viral. I was captivated. I sought him out, spent a fortune to make him mine, and mine alone.

He always played the part of the obedient pet so well. I never imagined…

Just as I was about to demand who his “angel” was, the phone rang. It was Benson, our butler.

“Miss Sterling! The Mistress… she’s fading.”

I dropped Aidan without a second thought, threw on my clothes, and floored it all the way home.

I made it. Just in time to see my mother for the last time.

My biological father, however, was nowhere to be seen.

As the night deepened, I turned to Benson, my voice ice. “Is Alan Pierce dead in a ditch somewhere?”

Benson bowed his head respectfully. “He is with a Miss Locke, ma’am. His usual haunt.”

I gritted my teeth. “He can die, then.”

“Miss Sterling,” Benson cautioned gently, “remember your mother’s final instructions.”

I took a deep, shuddering breath. “…Fine.”