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

The man who'd gotten in partway through the ride was watching me like a hawk.

I reached for my phone to call the police, but the driver cut me off with a cold laugh.

"Miss Wiley, today is Assistant Harding's birthday. Mr. Morton arranged a lawn party for her at the manor, and you—you're the special gift he's prepared for her."

"Mr. Morton says if you behave yourself and keep Assistant Harding happy, he'll consider throwing you that engagement party after all."

He jerked his chin toward the hulking man beside me.

"Otherwise, we dump you right out the door. This is the highway. You won't even get the call connected before the next car turns you into roadkill."

"So sit tight if you want to live. A charity case surviving on Mr. Morton's scraps, and you actually thought you were the lady of the house?"

Only then did I realize I'd been tricked.

I couldn't figure out what Laurence was playing at.

But no matter what, I wasn't going to gamble with my life. I put my phone away in silence.

The manor had been decorated to perfection—even more lavish than the engagement party had been.

Laurence had one arm around Camille's waist, laughing and clinking glasses with the guests who'd come to celebrate.

Matching jade pendants hung from both their necks.

Anyone who didn't know better would have thought this was their wedding.

When he spotted me, Laurence walked over, his gaze appraising.

"I heard you were trying to get to the airport. Where were you headed?"

My voice was calm. "Home. Is that a problem?"

Something smug flickered in his eyes.

"So you've finally figured it out. Without me, you can't survive in Pearl City. Your only option is crawling back to whatever backwater you came from to dig in the dirt."

"I'm not a heartless man. All you have to do is put this on and play Camille's little pet for the day. Then I'll let yesterday slide, and we'll have the wedding next week."

It was a wooden sign, roughly the size of a laptop screen.

Five words were carved into it in bold, unmistakable letters.

Camille's Dog.

I stared at him in disbelief.

"You want me to be Camille Harding's dog?"

"In your dreams. She could drop dead and still not deserve it!"

Laurence's face turned to ice.

"Today is Camille's birthday, and this is the one gift she wants most. I promised her that whatever she asked for, I'd deliver."

"Besides, you nearly hurt her yesterday. You owe her."

He pulled out a small resin pendant and held it up like a threat.

"You care so much about sentimental value, don't you?"

"If you don't cooperate, I'll burn it. Then you won't even have a memory left."

The pendant itself was worthless. But sealed inside the resin were strands of my mother's hair.

She had died in an explosion. There was nothing left of her—no remains, no ashes.

Those few strands were all I'd managed to gather, one by one, from around the house.

I'd had them set in resin so it would feel like she was still with me.

Laurence made a show of swinging the pendant toward the barbecue pit beside him.

I clenched my jaw so hard my teeth ached, and forced the words out one by one.

"I'll do it."

The moment I hung the sign around my neck, laughter erupted from every direction. Phones shot up, cameras flashing.

Laurence smiled, satisfied.

"There we go. That's more like it. Remember—whatever Camille tells you to do later, you do it. No hesitation."

"Relax. Keep her happy, and once the party's over, I'll give you back the pendant. And everything I promised? I'll follow through."

I lifted my head, my face completely blank.

"Can I use the restroom?"

Laurence didn't refuse, but he confiscated my phone.

He even posted two bodyguards outside the door, as if I might try to run.