Dumped at My Own Engagement, I Became the Heiress He Could Never Reach

It was nearly eleven at night by the time I reached the villa. The streets were dead silent.

Three punks with bleached-blond hair had appeared behind me at some point. They whistled at me every few steps, and no matter what I did, I couldn't shake them.

Unease crawled up my spine. I broke into a run toward the house.

But when I reached the front door, I discovered the lock code had been changed.

The three of them stood under a tree a few yards away, leering at me with disgusting grins. Like they were watching a show. Like they were watching a meal, waiting to devour it whole.

Every hair on the back of my neck stood on end. I slammed the doorbell over and over, but no one answered.

Then a second-floor window flew open. Laurence appeared, shirtless.

He tossed my suitcase out the window without a second thought. The light caught the hickeys scattered across his neck, vivid and fresh.

"Gillian, I thought you were so full of pride? Then take your trash and get the hell out of my house."

"I've already frozen your cards. That pitiful balance in your bank account probably won't even cover half a month's rent."

I didn't have time for his contempt. Panic overrode everything else.

"Laurence, there are men following me. Can you at least let me inside first?"

"Or call the police for me. My phone's dead. They're right there under that tree. If you don't believe me, come down and look for yourself!"

Laurence froze. Instinctively, he turned.

"What? Don't be scared, I'll come down right—"

A pair of pale, slender arms hooked around his elbow and pulled him back.

Camille stood there wearing my lace nightgown, smiling down at me with pure provocation.

"Oh, Gillian, this is an exclusive gated community. Without a resident's permission, security won't let strangers in."

"You publicly called off the engagement today and humiliated Mr. Morton. You won't even apologize, and now you're making up lies to manipulate him? Have you no shame at all?"

"Mr. Morton, if you don't teach her a lesson this time, people will walk all over you."

Laurence's expression shifted. He looked down at me with open disgust.

"Gillian, I didn't realize you were this calculating. Tonight you can kneel out there and let the rain wash some sense into that head of yours."

"Tomorrow morning, I want to see you go live online, begging me to take you back."

"And remember—without me, you're nothing. A woman I've already used up isn't worth a damn thing anymore."

He shut the window without hesitation.

Behind the curtains, two silhouettes tangled together in shameless abandon.

My heart went cold, inch by inch.

The three punks grinned and started toward me, tongues dragging across their lips.

"Hey, sweetheart, your man's busy with his new girl. Can't even be bothered with you. Why humiliate yourself? Come play with us instead."

"Don't worry, we don't pay for it. A used-up piece like you isn't worth the money anyway. Ha ha ha ha..."

They clamped a hand over my mouth and dragged me toward a dark corner.

I thrashed and fought. Then someone came running out, wielding a stick.

It wasn't Laurence.

It was a middle-aged couple who also lived in the villa community. They'd just gotten back from out of town and had been sitting in their car talking when they witnessed the whole thing.

The three punks bolted the moment they realized they'd been seen. They were too fast to catch.

I picked up my suitcase and politely declined the couple's offer to let me stay at their place for the night. The woman insisted on giving me two outfits from when she was younger, then drove me to a nearby hotel.

Laurence really was ruthless. To force me into submission, he'd kept all the jewelry he'd ever given me.

Not that I cared. Things like that? I'd never been short of them.

I borrowed a charger from the front desk and made plans to fly home the next morning.

But on the way to the airport, the driver suddenly changed direction.