After My Boyfriend Burned Me for a Livestream, I Became the Chapman Heiress

The brine kept dripping. Off my hair. Down my back. Into my shoes. The smell was everywhere. In my nose. On my tongue. I could taste the rot.

I didn't move.

The circle of socialites was still laughing. One of them — a woman in a silver dress — had her hand over her mouth, her shoulders shaking. Pierce Sterling tossed the empty bucket aside. It clattered against the marble floor and rolled toward the wall.

Cassidy stepped closer, her phone aimed at my face. The red dot was still on. The camera was still recording. Her voice went high and breathless.

"Oh my God, you guys, she didn't even flinch," she said into the screen. "Look at her. The janitor queen, everyone!"

More laughter. Someone clapped.

I stood there, dripping. My uniform clung to my skin. The chandelier light was too bright. It burned my eyes. I blinked and the brine ran into them. It stung.

I looked at Kylian.

He was still laughing. His head tilted back. His champagne glass raised like he was toasting. Like this was the funniest thing he'd ever seen.

I looked at him and felt nothing.

No anger. No hurt. Nothing.

The thread that had held me to him for three years — the one I'd clung to through every long shift, every aching night, every moment I'd told myself he loved me — snapped.

Clean.

Silent.

Gone.

I turned my head and stared past his shoulder. At the wall. At the chandelier. At nothing.

Cassidy's voice cut through the noise again. She was talking to Julien now, her phone lowered but still recording. Her tone was different. Quieter. Conspiratorial.

"That was good," she said. "But we need more. The views are spiking. Look."

She held her phone up to show him the screen. I couldn't see the numbers from where I stood, but I saw Julien's grin widen.

"More?" he said.

Cassidy nodded. She leaned in close, whispering something I couldn't hear. Julien's eyebrows went up. Then he laughed.

"Perfect," he said.

He stood and clapped his hands together. The circle went quiet again. All eyes on him.

"Alright, alright," Julien said. "That was fun. But we're just getting started."

Pierce sat up straighter. "What's next?"

Julien gestured toward the terrace doors at the far end of the ballroom. Through the glass, I could see the glow of orange light. The fire pit. It had been lit for the gala. A decorative centerpiece on the stone terrace overlooking the water.

"Second dare," Julien said. He raised his scotch glass like a trophy. "The fire pit's fully lit. She reaches in. Bare-handed. And pulls out a charcoal briquette."

The circle erupted.

"No way."

"Are you serious?"

"That's insane."

Julien grinned wider. "Character-building for the help," he said. "Builds resilience."

The socialites laughed again. Cassidy swung her phone back toward me, zooming in on my face. Her voice went bright and mocking.

"You guys, this is getting crazy," she narrated. "Stay with me. This is going to be epic."

Pierce stood and walked toward me. He grabbed my arm. His grip was firm. He steered me toward the terrace doors.

I didn't resist.

The crowd parted as we walked. People turned to stare. A few of them whispered. Most of them smiled.

Kylian followed. He stayed a few steps behind, his champagne glass still in his hand. He didn't say anything. Didn't stop Pierce. Didn't look at me.

Pierce pushed open the terrace doors. The night air hit me. Cold. Sharp. It cut through the wet fabric of my uniform. The smell of the brine mixed with the smell of burning wood.

The fire pit was in the center of the terrace. Round. Stone. About three feet across. Flames rose from the center, licking at the edges of the pit. The charcoal briquettes glowed orange and white. Heat radiated off them in waves.

The socialites poured out onto the terrace behind us. They formed a loose circle around the fire pit. Cassidy pushed to the front, her phone raised. The red dot was still on.

Julien walked to the edge of the pit and looked down at the flames. Then he looked at me.

"Go ahead," he said. His voice was casual. Like he was asking me to pick up a napkin.

I stood at the edge of the pit. The heat pressed against my face. My hands hung at my sides. Water dripped from my fingertips onto the stone.

In my pocket, my phone ticked.

02:41:22.

I looked at Kylian.

He was standing at the back of the circle. Arms crossed. Watching.

I waited.

For him to say something. To stop this. To pull me back.

He raised his champagne glass to his lips and took a slow sip.

Then he spoke.

"She's built tough," he said. His voice was loud. Confident. "She can take it."

The socialites murmured in agreement. Cassidy zoomed in on my face again.

I looked down at the fire pit. At the glowing coals. At the flames.

Then I reached into my pocket and pulled out my burner phone.

The screen glowed in the firelight.

02:40:58.

I stared at the numbers.

Two hours and forty minutes.

That's all that was left.

I looked at Kylian one more time.

Then I put the phone back in my pocket.

And I waited.