Chapter 1.
Five years into their marriage, Sloane Sterling’s business collapsed, burying them under a mountain of debt. When the collectors came, they didn’t just take the furniture-they broke Corbin Vance’s leg. That single blow shattered his dreams of ever sitting in a Formula 1 cockpit again.
Then came the second blow: their daughter was diagnosed with autism. The medical bills were a black hole. To keep her alive, Corbin worked eight jobs a day, pushing himself until he collapsed, terrified to take even an hour off.
For three years, Corbin lived on three hours of sleep and the cheapest instant noodles he could find. He took beatings from debt collectors until he coughed up blood, yet he never spent a single cent on a bottle of painkillers for himself.
But tonight, as he carried a tray of expensive liquor through a high-end bar, he saw Sloane, who was supposed to be working double shifts as a waitress was sitting in a luxury VIP suite. She was draped in designer silk, surrounded by a crowd of wealthy socialites who hung on her every word.
Ms. Sterling, three years ago you told Corbin the company was bankrupt and hired those thugs to break his leg. You even had your laughter play the part of an autistic kid,” one of the men laughed, swirling his cognac. “The guy has literally been killing himself to pay for all of it. Don’t you think he’s been punished enough?”
Sloane’s response was a cold, sharp sneer.
‘If he hadn’t been such a bastard and stolen Declan’s first-place trophy, I wouldn’t have had to break his leg. As for the fake bankruptcy and the autism act? That was just to make it up to Declan for the emotional trauma he suffered.”
She took a slow, indifferent sip of her drink.
‘He’s the reason Declan lost his job and fell into a depression. Letting Corbin suffer a little is mercy. My daughter and I have spent the last three years traveling the world with Declan, helping him heal. Corbin’s sins are finally paid for.”
The room went quiet for a beat. A few people exchanged uneasy glances.
‘Corbin Vance was a god-tier racer back then,” someone muttered. “He was supposed to go all the way to Fl.”
Now look at him,” another added. “Since his leg went, he’s been taking on the most grueling and menial jobs in the c back those fake debts and medical bills. I heard he’s practically one step away from selling a kidney.”
‘Aren’t you afraid he’ll snap if he finds out?”
Sloane smiled, her eyes devoid of warmth. “He’s too stupid to find out.”
“Besides, Declan has forgiven him now. I’ll find the right moment to tell Corbin that our daughter’s ‘autism’ is improving. Then I’ll let him reclaim his position as the Sterling family’s son-in-law.”
‘After three years of this, he should know his place. As long as he serves Declan well, I’ll let him live a decent life.”
Sloane’s voice was crystal clear, cutting through the air and piercing Corbin’s ears like a jagged blade.
He stood frozen in the doorway. He looked at the woman in the hundred-thousand-dollar suit, then at the bottles on the table-any one of which cost more than his yearly salary. Something inside him didn’t just break; it turned to ash.
An hour ago, the treatment center had sent a frantic text demanding payment. He was ten thousand dollars short.
To get that money, he had begged his manager to let him serve the VIP suites. He knew the risks. The tips alone could be thousands of dollars, but they came at the price of being humiliated at their whim. He was prepared to crawl on the floor and bark like a dog it it meant his daughter got her medicine.
He just never expected the person holding the leash would be his own wife.
“What the hell are you doing?” the floor manager hissed, shoving Corbin from behind. “Get the drinks in there!”
Corbin stumbled. The door flew open, and he lost his balance, crashing into the mahogany coffee table. A row of premium crystal
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bies tos toppled, shattering into a million pieces. High-end liquor and glass shards sprayed everywhere, drawing a chorus of screams
nothethe room
Dolah Thorne leaped up, pointing at a dark stain on his trousers. “What is wrong with this idiot? Look at my clothes!”
He turned to Sloane, his voice thick with fake outrage. “You just bought me this suit yesterday. It’s two hundred thousand dollars, Shoane! My first time wearing it, and this trash ruins it. He has to pay!”
Two hundred thousand.
The number echoed in Corbin’s head. That was six months of Brynn’s treatment. Six months of him working until his lungs
burned
The site was dimly lit. Sloane didn’t even look at the man on the floor. She just patted Declan’s hand. “It’s just a suit, babe. I’ll buy
you ten more.”
Then she looked toward the manager. “The server upset my friend. Make sure he apologizes properly.”
The manager didn’t hesitate. He backhanded Corbin across the face, the blow ringing through the quiet room. “You blind piece of hit! Do you have any idea what Mr. Thorne’s wardrobe is worth? You couldn’t afford this if you sold your organs!”
Get on your knees and apologize. Now!”
The thanager slammed his hand onto the back of Corbin’s head, forcing him down. Corbin’s knees hit the carpet, but the thick abric couldn’t protect him. Shards of broken glass sliced through his trousers and buried themselves deep into his kneecaps. Blood began to bloom across the expensive rug.
Declan stared down at the man, his eyes narrowing as if he recognized something in the way Corbin’s shoulders trembled. Finally, he wrapped an arm around Sloane’s waist. “Forget it. He ruined the mood. Let’s go.”
Sloane leaned into him, a soft smile playing on her lips. She stood up and walked out of the room, her heels clicking past Corbin’s head. She never looked down. Not once.
Corbin stayed on the floor, his knees screaming, though the pain felt distant, as if it were happening to s hest convulsed. He doubled over and coughed, a bright spray of blood hitting the floor.
The manager jumped back, disgusted. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
Corbin wiped his mouth with a trembling hand. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a handful of painki hem dry.
I’m probably dying,” he whispered.
The doctors had been blunt. Stage four bone cancer.
He didn’t have much time left.
