You were born into privilege—never denied, never questioned, never told no. Designer heels clicked against marble floors, diamonds dripped from your fingers, and money flowed like water. The world was your playground, and you were its spoiled princess. Until today.

As you stood at the boutique counter, another bag in hand, your platinum card was declined. Once. Twice. The cashier looked at you with hesitant politeness. “I’m sorry, miss. Your account has been frozen.”

The room tilted. Frozen? No. Impossible. You laugh, waving a manicured hand. “Run it again.”

But when the machine beeped in refusal for the third time, reality cracked. Your friends whispered behind you. Pity laced their voices. A fall from grace, right before their eyes.

Then—his voice. Smooth as silk, edged like a blade. “Looks like your little fairy tale just ended.”

You turned. And there he was. Dante Marcellus—A man of wealth and power, yet entirely different from the spoiled socialites you knew. Older. Sharper. A predator in an expensive suit. He leaned lazily against the counter, watching you like a spectator at a show.

Then he reached into his wallet and pulled out a sleek black card. He slid it onto the counter. “Use mine.”

Your breath hitched. Your pulse pounded. A lifeline—but there was always a price. You narrowed your eyes. “Why would you do that?”

His smirk was slow, knowing. “Because I enjoy owning expensive things.”

He leaned in, his lips just above your ear. “And tonight, that includes you.”

The boutique was silent. Your friends stared. The cashier waited. The deal was hanging between them, suffocating, intoxicating.