Chapter 3

Alexander's expression darkened instantly. Without hesitation, he stormed into the bathroom.

Empty.

But on the wall, written in stark red, was a message:

"Mr. Knight, no matter the difference in our status, I would never marry you. Goodbye."

The handwriting was precise, sharp—each stroke radiating defiance.

Alexander froze.

Had his investigation on her been wrong?

A beat later, he barked an order. "Search the mountain!"

He couldn’t let his mother’s dying wish go unfulfilled.

Meanwhile, Alice clung to thorny vines as she descended the rugged slope. Her clothes snagged and tore, but she pressed on, hiding beneath dense foliage whenever the Knight family’s search party passed.

She waited until nightfall before circling the mountain, climbing over jagged rocks until she reached safety.

By dawn, she stood at the Sullivan Estate’s gates.

Benjamin Sullivan and Olivia Sullivan paled at the sight of her.

"You—how did you escape?" Olivia demanded, guilt flashing across her face.

Alice smirked coldly. "I served my sentence, Mrs. Sullivan. I’m free."

"You shouldn’t be here!" Olivia recoiled, wrinkling her nose. "You reek of filth! Get out!" She shoved Alice toward the door.

Alice ignored her, locking eyes with Benjamin instead. "Uncle Sullivan, your family knew exactly why I was imprisoned. Four days ago, you visited me. You promised money to save my mother if I spent the night with a stranger. I did. And she still died."

Benjamin shifted uncomfortably. "Fate decides life and death. I tried to help, but she passed too soon. How is that my fault?"

Alice’s nails dug into her palms, drawing blood. The pain was the only thing stopping her from lunging at him.

Not yet. She couldn’t prove their involvement—yet.

"Where is she buried?" she asked, voice eerily calm.

Benjamin waved a dismissive hand. "The public cemetery in your hometown. I paid for your upkeep for eight years—did you expect a luxury plot? Ungrateful brat!"

As he slammed the door, he tossed a wad of cash at her feet. "Payment for that night."

The words were a knife to her heart.

She lifted her chin. "If anyone owes payment, it’s the man who took me. Since he’s dead, consider it void. And I’m not a prostitute. I did it to save my mother—and to repay your so-called kindness. We’re even now."

Eight years under their roof was enough.

If she ever returned, it would be for revenge.

Watching Alice’s retreating figure, Benjamin felt an odd pang in his chest.

Olivia sneered. "Feeling guilty? Don’t forget—she cursed our daughter to death! They were born the same day, yet she lived while our baby died!"

Benjamin swallowed. "I’m not. But if she finds out the man she slept with is alive—and the head of the Knight family—we’re finished."

Olivia’s lips curled. "She doesn’t even know his name. What matters now is securing Alexander for Victoria. Once she bears his child, no one will dare cross us."

Benjamin hesitated. "Old Master Knight values pedigree. What if he rejects her as an adopted daughter?"

Olivia laughed, sharp and manic. "Alexander was an illegitimate heir. If he could seize the Knight Group overnight, Victoria can become his wife. As long as he believes she’s the girl who saved him, nothing else matters."

Benjamin’s guilt evaporated.

A hundred meters away, Alice turned toward the main road—only for a flashy red sports car to cut her off.

Victoria Sullivan stepped out, heels clicking. "Well, if it isn’t the charity case who leeched off us for eight years. Still begging, Alice? Or just selling yourself now?"

Slap.

Alice’s hand struck before Victoria finished.

A red handprint bloomed on Victoria’s cheek.

She gasped, sniffed her fingers—then recoiled in disgust. "You—how dare you?!"

Alice shrugged. "Now you smell as bad as I do."

She walked away, leaving Victoria too stunned to retaliate.

Alice rented a bed in South City’s grimiest district.

Job hunting was brutal—her record scared employers away. So she bought a fake ID, becoming Layla Young.

Days later, she landed a waitressing job at an upscale restaurant. The pay was meager, but she didn’t complain.

Three weeks in, her diligence earned her a promotion: VIP room attendant.

"Layla, VIP guests demand perfection. Don’t slip up," the manager warned.

Alice nodded. "Understood."

She excelled, though her aloofness drew whispers.

"Think she’s too good for us?" a coworker muttered.

Another smirked. "Pretty face, icy attitude. No education, yet acts like royalty."

A third sighed. "She’s just quiet. Reliable, though. Watch."

She called out, "Layla, my stomach’s killing me. Can you deliver this to the Platinum VIP room?"

Alice took the tray without protest.

Upstairs, she entered the dimly lit room—and froze.

A hand clamped around her wrist.

She looked up.

Cold, piercing eyes met hers.

Alexander Knight’s voice was lethal. "How did you know I dine here?"