“For three years, Brandt kept me locked away as an obedient, unpaid stand-in for his socialite girlfriend. When she returned, he dragged me to an underground poker room to throw me to Manhattan' s most violent shadow banker as a disposable peace offering. They forced me into a cheap rag, made me kneel on shattered crystal, and shoved industrial pliers into my mouth to rip out my tongue. The ruthless billionaire just sat there, sipping bourbon, coldly watching me bleed. He didn't recognize me at all. He didn't know I was the girl who took third-degree burns to save him from a burning building eight years ago. He thought I was just another cheap replica sent to mock his dead savior. Until I saw the dented pink iPod resting on his velvet tray. Ignoring the glass tearing into my knees, I looked straight into the eyes of the monster who was about to cut my face off. "You always were bad at math, Stray." The moment I pulled down my collar to reveal the jagged scar, the king of Wall Street dropped to his knees and wept.”