“I woke up to the deafening roar of heavy metal, holding a leather patch that read "Property of Harrington." Calhoun, the Vice President of the motorcycle club, sneered and ordered me to sew it on. He wanted to claim me tonight, forcing my family's massive transport fleet under his club's banner. Behind him hid Bernadette, his mistress, biting her lip like a frightened doe. Calhoun wrapped his arm around her, demanding I show some grace and share my title, my bed, and my wealth with her. In my last life, I foolishly gave them everything. I thought my devotion would earn his love. Instead, he drained my eighty-five-million-dollar empire dry. When I was no longer useful, they locked me in a dark concrete basement. While the club drank and laughed upstairs, they used a rusty scalpel to carve my unborn child out of me, leaving me to bleed out in a shallow grave. I didn't understand why my loyalty was repaid with such brutal betrayal. Why did they tear my innocent baby away? Why did my unconditional support only buy me a horrifying death? But the cold metal of my silver skull ring anchored me. I wasn't in that grave. I was twenty-two again, right at the start of the claiming ceremony. This time, I dropped their sacred patch into the spilled whiskey and ground the golden eagle into the dirt with my steel-toed boot. "I'm just putting garbage where it belongs."”