Chapter 1

Tomorrow was supposed to be my engagement party with my fiance, Jason Miller.

To surprise him, I flew back a day earlier after spending three long years studying abroad in London.

The moment my plane landed, I called him.

But he just laughed and casually dropped a bombshell.

He had lost a high-stakes poker game, and he had just wagered me off to his friend as a free maid for a month.

Before I could even speak, my phone lit up with a notification.

He had added me to his wealthy inner-circle group chat.

The title was vicious.

[Congrats to Marcus on his new ugly maid!]

Jason dropped a photo of me, from before I left the country, into the chat.

In the picture, my skin was broken out, my hair was a wild mess, and I had severe buckteeth that made me look completely awkward.

The group chat exploded.

"Holy crap, Jason! You're brutal! She looks frightening!"

"A bet's a bet, Marcus! You gotta bring the monster to the yacht party tomorrow!"

Someone immediately set up a poll, betting cash on whether I would actually have the nerve to show up in a swimsuit.

Jason instantly dropped ten grand on the poll, betting I would hide in embarrassment.

"Sorry to ruin your eyes, bro," he texted the group. "Just think of her as a free circus act."

I stared at the screen, a cold smile touching my lips.

He never bothered to call me while I was away.

He had no idea I spent the last three years in Europe undergoing three hundred thousand dollars' worth of top-tier facial reconstruction and styling.

He had no idea that a single unedited photo of my face was now pulling hundreds of thousands of followers online.

They wanted a show?

Tomorrow on that yacht, I would give them one.

Chapter 1

The ice-cold air conditioning in the arrivals hall blasted against my skin as the PA system announced international landings.

I stood by the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, my phone vibrating non-stop in my palm.

Notifications from the group chat were flying up the screen.

The group name made my stomach turn.

[Congrats to Marcus on his new ugly maid!]

The old photo posted by Jason had already been turned into cruel memes by everyone in the chat.

In that photo, my skin was rough and breaking out, but the worst part was my severe buckteeth.

That was me before I left for London three years ago.

The guys in the group were loving every second of it.

[@Jason Dude, even with the lights off, that face would give a guy nightmares.]

[Holy shit, Jason, you’re brutal! She looks frightening! Marcus got totally scammed!]

[A bet's a bet, Marcus! You gotta bring the monster to the yacht party tomorrow! No excuses!]

Someone immediately started a poll in the chat.

[Betting cash: Will the ugly maid dare to wear a bikini tomorrow?]

Jason didn't hesitate. He dropped ten grand into the pool.

He voted "No."

A second later, he sent a voice note to the group, his tone dripping with arrogant amusement.

"Sorry to ruin your eyes, bro. A hundred grand poker debt wiped clean, plus you get a free clown to laugh at for a month."

I stared at the screen. I didn't leave the group.

Instead, I calmly took screenshots of every single message and poll result.

A call popped up at the top of my screen.

It was Jason.

I hit answer and immediately slid my finger across the screen to activate call recording.

A small red indicator began to pulse steadily in the top corner.

"Hey, Lily. You saw the group chat, right?"

Jason’s voice came through the speaker, heavy with his usual commanding tone.

"A bet’s a bet. Tomorrow you're going to Marcus's place to play maid. If you refuse, I’ll make sure your family can never show their faces in this town again."

My fingers tightened around the phone.

"Jason, I’m your fiancée. You gambled me away to settle a debt?"

He let out a harsh laugh over the line.

"So what if you're my fiancée? If it wasn't for your family's business, do you really think I would ever touch an ugly freak like you?

"Marcus letting you work as his maid is a privilege.

"Show up at the marina on time tomorrow. Don't embarrass me."

As if on cue, Marcus Reid finally popped up in the group chat to join the fun.

He tagged my handle directly.

[@Lily Make sure you wear that bikini, ugly. Don't ruin my mood. If you're late tomorrow, I'll make sure your family business goes under.]

Below his message, a row of cronies spammed.

[Marcus is the boss!]

Watching the insults roll across the screen, a cold smile touched my lips.

I took a deep breath, typed on the keyboard, and sent a reply in a pathetically timid tone.

[I'll go tomorrow. Please don't break off the engagement.]

The moment the text sent, the group exploded into even wilder laughter.

Jason seemed thoroughly satisfied with my desperate submission.

Less than a minute later, he sent a PDF through a private message.

The title read: [Voluntary Service & Debt Settlement Agreement]

Jason followed up with a voice note.

"Sign the agreement online now, and you'll ink your thumbprint tomorrow. Black and white, so you can't back out.”

Chapter 2

I opened the contract document.

The terms were degrading.

It stated that I had to obey Marcus’s every command unconditionally for an entire year.

Instead of replying to Jason, I downloaded the file and forwarded it directly to my friend, David Sawyer, a defense attorney.

[Can you check this out? Does this count as coercion?]

David replied in seconds.

[It crosses into coercion and illegal restraint. Save every piece of evidence. Whatever you do, do NOT sign or thumbprint it.]

I texted back.

[Got it.]

Seeing that I hadn't responded, Jason thought I was paralyzed with fear. He sent another text to up the pressure.

[Play your cards right on the yacht tomorrow. If Marcus’s happy, I might throw an extra five grand into your family’s wedding gift fund.]

Five thousand dollars.

In Jason’s eyes, my dignity, my freedom, and my future were worth five grand.

I took another screenshot and saved it to the folder.

I slipped my phone back into my bag and pulled out a pair of oversized sunglasses.

My reflection in the terminal window showed a tall, elegant woman with a striking, sharp jawline.

Three years abroad, and Jason didn't send a single text to check on me.

He had no idea I spent three hundred thousand dollars on complete facial reconstruction and cosmetic surgery.

Tomorrow, I would make him learn the true cost of gambling me away.

---

Early the next morning, a courier delivered a tacky package to my door from Jason, with strict instructions for me to wear it to the party.

I looked down at the bundle sitting on the floor.

Through the torn plastic wrapper, I could see a neon-colored bikini with barely enough fabric to cover anything.

This was the "outfit" Jason wanted me to wear to the yacht.

I let out a cold laugh, picked up the package, and tossed it straight into the hallway trash chute.

I walked into my closet and chose a tailored black designer trench coat over a silk slip dress.

I pinned my long hair up into a relaxed twist, put on a black medical mask, and topped it off with oversized sunglasses that covered half my face.

I wrapped myself up tight. Completely hidden.

---

At ten in the morning, the breeze on the marina was cold.

The moment I stepped onto Dock 3, a chorus of loud, obnoxious laughter cut through the air.

Jason was standing near the edge of the pier with a group of rich party boys, clad in head-to-toe designer streetwear, smoking cigarettes.

When Jason saw what I was wearing, he froze for a second before pointing at me and bursting into a hysterical laugh.

"You're ugly, we get it! Bundling up like that, are you afraid you'll scare off the seagulls?"

The trust-fund boys around him immediately chimed in.

"Hey Jason, at least your fiancée has self-awareness! She knows her face looks frightening, so she covered the whole thing!"

"Seriously! Where's the bikini? Dressed like that, are you applying to be a maid in the Arctic?"

I stood in place, watching them with icy eyes.

Right then, a guy with a thick gold chain around his neck and a heavy beer gut strutted over.

It was Marcus.

He held a printed stack of paper in his hand.

It was the hard copy of the Voluntary Service & Debt Settlement Agreement. The same one Jason sent me the previous night.

Marcus looked me up and down, his eyes filled with pure disgust.

"She's hideous, but a woman's a woman, I guess."

He slammed the contract onto the wooden railing and tossed a black ink pad at my feet.

"Put your thumbprint on it. Starting today, you’re my personal maid."

The crowd of rich kids instantly whipped out their phones, aiming their cameras straight at my face.

The flashes went off repeatedly, accompanied by the loud clicking of shutters.

"Record this! Get a good angle! Her body doesn't look that bad, but that face ruins everything, Marcus really isn't picky!"

"Drop it in the group chat! Let everyone see how Jason trades off his fiancée to pay his debts!”

Chapter 3

Surrounded by their loud, public humiliation, I kept my head down and forced my shoulders to tremble.

I reached out, taking the pen with a deliberately shaky hand.

Inside my trench coat pocket, my other hand slipped the digital voice recorder to ON.

"Jason..." I forced my voice to crack, sounding as if I were on the verge of tears. "Are you really trading me away to him?"

Instead of showing a shred of guilt, Jason looked thrilled to show off in front of his friends.

He strutted over and shoved my shoulder hard.

"Stop whining!"

His harsh voice carried clearly into the hidden microphone.

"Working for Marcus is a privilege! You’re paying off my hundred-grand poker debt, so sign the damn paper!"

The force of his push made me stumble backward, almost hitting the metal railing.

I balanced myself and looked down at the contract.

I didn't sign my name.

Instead, I dipped my thumb into the black ink pad and pressed a smudged, unidentifiable print onto the line.

As I did, my eyes caught the top corner of the page, memorizing the reference code.

Document No. 0325.

Seeing the black ink on paper, Marcus let out a loud, triumphant laugh.

He snatched the contract, shoved it into his jacket, and grabbed my shoulder, forcing me toward the yacht's gangway.

"Let's get on the boat, boys!"

Marcus yelled to the crowd, his face flushed red.

"I'm going live today! Let's show the whole city how generous Jason really is!"

My shoes clicked against the wooden ramp as I let him steer me onto the deck.

The heavy engines roared to life, pulling away from the dock.

Marcus held up a selfie stick, aiming the camera straight at me as I crouched in the corner, screaming into his phone.

"Stream is live!"

The yacht cut through the open water, heading straight toward international territory.

On deck, blasting electronic dance music rattled my chest.

Marcus held the selfie stick high, talking loudly to his viewers.

"Listen up! We've got a show for you today!

"Top donor sends a sports car gift, and I'll make the ugly maid take off her coat!"

Virtual gift animations flooded the screen, cars and yachts flashing one after another.

Comments flew across his phone like a blizzard.

[Take it off! Jason said her skin is hideous! I wanna see!]

[I put a grand on that poll! Make her wear the bikini!]

[Marcus is the man! Make her strip!]

Behind their screens, the city's richest trust-fund kids were unleashing a wave of cruel taunts.

Trying to kiss up to Marcus, Jason picked up a full glass of red wine and marched over to me.

He towered over me, slamming the glass onto the outdoor table so hard that dark wine splashed onto my black coat.

"Did you hear him?"

Jason pointed a finger at my face. "Take off the coat and go pour Marcus a drink!"

I gripped the collar of my trench coat tighter, taking a step back.

One step. Two steps. Until my back hit the cold steel railing of the yacht.

"Jason," I said, keeping my voice low and quiet. "We're still engaged. What you're doing is illegal."

Jason laughed as if he had just heard the funniest joke in the world.

He glanced over at Marcus’s livestream, yelling out for the camera to hear, "Illegal? Out on the open water, Marcus is the law!

"You're just a broke, hideous nobody. Who's gonna stop us?”

Chapter 4

Those words traveled loud and clear through Marcus’s phone straight into his livestream.

And straight into my own phone hidden behind my back.

Working blindly from memory with my hands behind my coat, I had opened my verified account, the one with over ten million followers.

I hit ‘Go Live,’ mirroring the stream.

A quiet chime echoed from my app in the background.

Holding his phone high, Marcus grew impatient as I hesitated to pull off the coat.

Comments from his top donors flooded the live stream, demanding action.

He lost his temper completely.

Marcus lunged forward, grabbing my wrist with enough force to shatter my bone.

"Giving you a chance and you're acting like a snob?"

Marcus’s breath reeked of alcohol as he glared at me.

"Jason! Rip off her mask! Let the guys see what this hideous freak actually looks like!"

Jason stepped up with a nasty grin.

He reached out, snagging the strap of my mask behind my ear.

"Let's give everyone a show!"

Jason shouted, yanking his arm back hard.

The tight mask strap dug into my skin with a sharp, dangerous stretch.

With a loud snap, the strap broke.

The mask and my oversized sunglasses were violently torn away, clattering onto the deck.

The cold sea breeze slapped against my bare face.

Jason waved the broken mask in front of Marcus’s phone camera, laughing hysterically.

"Look close, guys!

"Here's my scary fiancée! Today she’s performing a little striptease to keep us entertained!"

In Marcus’s chat, the trust-fund crowd went wild.

[Gagging already! Take it off!]

[That ten grand is mine! Great job, Jason!]

[Get closer to her face! I wanna see how disgusting those buckteeth are!]

Using the moment, I yanked my wrist out of Marcus’s grip.

My pinned-up hair tumbled down in the wind, dark strands framing my porcelain skin.

I slowly raised my head, squinting into the bright sunlight, looking directly into the lens of Marcus’s phone.

Flawless bone structure.

Porcelain skin without a single blemish. Sharp, piercing eyes that radiated pure cold authority.

No acne. No buckteeth.

Only a face that regularly drove hundreds of thousands of followers wild online.

Jason’s laughter died instantly.

His face froze.

Staring at me, he rubbed his eyes in utter disbelief.

His mouth hung open like a dying fish, unable to squeeze out a single sound.

Beside him, Marcus froze too.

His hand shook violently, the selfie stick trembling as the crude insults caught in his throat.

The stream camera wobbled crazily.

Right at that exact second.

The millions of followers from my main account flooded into Marcus’s stream through the linked location tag.

The storm of vicious taunts in the chat came to a sudden, dead halt.

Then, rows of verified fan badges began spamming the screen at light speed.

[???]

[What the hell is going on? Isn't that Lily?!]

[Who are these trash-talkers here? You dare insult our queen?!]

I straightened the collar of my trench coat, a cold smile touching my lips.

I took a step toward the frozen Jason, my voice crisp and razor-sharp.

"A striptease? Ten grand?"

I took another step closer, glaring at him as if he were already dead.

"Jason, did you honestly think I spent the last three years in Europe begging on the streets?"

Jason stood paralyzed, holding the broken mask, as the old comments vanished completely, replaced by a wall of bright red texts.

[HOLY SHIT! Isn't that Lily Vance, the mega-influencer with ten million fans?! Who the hell is forcing her to do a striptease?!]