Chapter 1

In the nightclub, Camille Layton sat at the center of the room, a dazzling star surrounded by eager admirers.

They swirled around her, feeding her endless praise.

"Camille, it's your birthday tonight. The entire tab's on me!" a man said, raising his glass before pulling her close.

"Do you really think I need your pocket change?" Camille smirked, then rolled her eyes.

"You. Get over here!"

She turned and pointed at me sharply.

"Right away."

I moved quickly and crouched beside her.

"Hold out your hands," she ordered.

I complied, stretching my palms out in front of her.

Without warning, a mouthful of phlegm splattered into my hands, followed by a sharp, burning pain.

Camille had crushed the last bit of her cigarette right into my skin.

"You can get lost now."

I clenched my teeth against the sting and frowned. "Okay," I blurted.

My expression remained calm and composed, as if this were nothing out of the ordinary.

The truth was, I had long since grown numb to it all.

In three years, I'd endured far worse than spit on my hand.

At the sink, I scrubbed my hands clean.

When I came back, a flood of jeers and taunts crashed down on me like a storm.

"Hey Camille, your lackey's back!"

"Come closer. Let's see just how pathetic you really are!"

No one at that table showed me even a shred of respect.

I stayed silent and made my way to Camille's side.

"Ms. Layton, it's getting late."

Before I could say more, she snapped, "How dare you try to boss me around, you son of a bitch?"

Our eyes locked, and in a swift motion, she tossed a bank card right at my face.

"Book a room for me. I'm not going home tonight."

"Okay."

I grabbed the card and quickly left.

The hotel was just next door. After I booked the room, Camille called.

"Send me the room number."

"On it."

"Wait for me outside the door. Don't move!"

"Alright."

In all these three years, I had never defied her commands.

Ten minutes later, Camille arrived, arm-in-arm with the same man from the club earlier.

He looked down at me like a hunter eyeing his prey.

"He's surprisingly well-behaved. For someone who waits around for you like that, he's even more obedient than my dog," the man sneered.

Camille threw me a piercing glare.

"He's nothing but a shadow. Once my family lets him go, he won't even be worth a second glance."

With a contemptuous scoff, they walked past me.

They pushed through the door, instantly locking lips in a fiery kiss.

I deliberately looked away, shutting out the image.

Without warning, a handbag flew at me, hitting the back of my head.

"You're staying right by the door tonight. Don't even think about leaving.

"If I find you gone tomorrow, I'm telling my dad!"

A chill ran down my spine. "But—"

Before I could finish, the door slammed shut with a loud thud.

A faint voice echoed, "No buts!"

I stood frozen at the doorway for a long moment before finally letting out a weary sigh.

How could this arrogant woman possibly grasp the weight of my struggles? Every night, I was stuck in the hospital caring for my sister, and by day, I was overwhelmed with running Layton Group.

There was no way I could stand guard outside her door through the night.

Not even her father would entertain such a ridiculous demand.

Camille was merely a figurehead. The real burden of running the company fell on me during the day.

Her father was the one who first signed the contract with me.

For two million dollars, I promised three years of absolute loyalty to Camille.

I had to give myself fully, even if it meant putting my life on the line.

That was the price of the agreement.

Two million dollars for three years of my life.

That money was what saved my sister after the car accident.

But despite everything, she remained in a vegetative state. For three years, she lay confined to a bed, never once opening her eyes.

During those years, the hospital was like a second home to me.

Drained and humiliated, I never uttered a single complaint.

I shook my head, pushing the weight of it all aside.

There was only one month remaining on my contract. I had already devoted three full years of unwavering loyalty.

Camille behaved as though it was her due, but beyond that, there was nothing more owed between us.

After coming downstairs, I dropped Camille's bag at the front desk and drove straight to the hospital.

Chapter 2

"Hey Tory, sorry I'm late today."

I sat by my sister's bedside, gently running my fingers through her hair.

Though I'd hired a caregiver, they didn't stay through the night.

"Looks like I'll have to start coming by earlier from now on. Your sores have flared up again."

After cleaning Tory with a damp towel, I curled up on the caregiver's bed and soon fell asleep.

Following my routine, I arrived at the office early the next morning.

I had already arranged all of the day's meetings the night before.

Though Camille had inherited her father's title as chairwoman, she had never once stepped foot inside the company.

On paper, I was just her secretary. In practice, the authority I exercised was nearly equal to hers.

Even so, I always remembered my place. I kept a low profile and treated everyone with respect.

At the end of the day, I was merely a contract employee.

As the meeting commenced, I switched my phone to silent.

But halfway through, it began to vibrate relentlessly.

I glanced at the others and quickly apologized, "Excuse me, I need to take this call."

Stepping out of the conference room, I answered the phone.

A furious shout hit my ears like a slap.

"Max! Where the hell did you go? Didn't I tell you to wait right outside the door?"

"Ms. Layton, I'm at the office. I had an early meeting this morning."

After a brief pause, Camille snapped, "Then who the hell is supposed to drive me? Do you want me to take a taxi?"

A subtle tremor stirred inside my ear, followed by a faint ringing.

"I'm sorry. I'll come pick you up."

As I ended the call, a bitter laugh escaped me.

The man Camille just slept with didn't even offer her a ride home.

Perhaps making me suffer was the only way she could stay in control.

In the underground garage, I started the car and pulled away from the office building.

With my contract coming to an end, I knew it was time to start plotting my own escape.

…

It wasn't long before I arrived at the hotel where Camille was staying.

She stormed down the stairs, and anger was blazing in her eyes.

Before I could even react, two sharp slaps struck my face.

Camille certainly didn't hold back. My skin burned as red finger marks appeared on my face.

"You bastard! I told you to wait outside. How dare you leave?"

I pressed my hand to my cheek, swallowing the words I wanted to say.

"Get going!" Camille snapped before climbing into the passenger seat.

Her arms were tightly crossed, and her face was flushed with frustration.

I rubbed my cheek and started the engine.

The car surged forward, heading toward the Layton residence.

The estate was grand, guarded by two imposing stone lions at the entrance.

The butler greeted us as we pulled into the garage.

As soon as Camille stepped inside, she began to voice her complaints.

An elderly man in plain clothes listened intently. His piercing eyes never left me.

"Alright, my sweetheart, I understand now," he said.

"Dad, why do you have to keep him glued to me?" Camille complained in front of Benson Layton, exaggerating everything that happened between us yesterday.

She didn't dare mention her reckless night with some stranger. Instead, she only said I had left her after she'd been drinking.

"You don't understand!" Benson's voice turned cold as soon as my name was mentioned. "Having Max by your side is the right thing to do."

"By my side? Please, he's just mooching off our family!" Camille snapped back.

Though Benson doted on Camille, his expression darkened at her words.

"Don't say that. If it weren't for what happened three years ago, do you really think I'd have him following you around like this?"

Catching Benson's steely glare, Camille knew the argument was over.

She spun on her heel, her ponytail flicking through the air. A glimmer of disdain flashed in her gaze.

"Don't think that winning my father's favor will stop me from despising you.

"You're nothing but a pathetic parasite!"

Chapter 3

After Camille's outburst, she turned on her heel and stormed off.

Silence filled the room, leaving just Benson and me.

His expression softened as he looked my way.

"Max, come here."

He took a seat on the couch, motioning for me to join him.

As I passed, his gaze lingered on the swelling on my cheek.

After a pause, he let out a sigh.

"If that misunderstanding hadn't happened three years ago… maybe things would be different now."

My expression remained stoic as I shook my head. "It doesn't matter. Misunderstanding or not, I would've signed that contract regardless.

"I still would've given everything for your family."

Benson looked at me again. There was a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. "You did it for your sister.

"But Camille… She's been a handful since she was little. Three years ago, she almost got into serious trouble, and it even caused me to misjudge you—"

"That's all behind us," I cut in firmly. "There's only a month left on the contract.

"After that, I'll be free."

Benson was silent for a moment.

"Whatever you choose, I'm willing to offer you some support. Consider it as a form of compensation," he said.

"But I hope…" His voice trailed off.

I tilted my head. "Hope for what?"

"I hope that in this last month, you won't follow Camille blindly. Maybe teach her a lesson or two.

"Give her some time to adjust, and don't end things too abruptly."

I met Benson's gaze silently, unable to understand his affection for Camille.

"I'll see the contract through to the end," I said. "You don't have to worry, Mr. Layton."

With that, I turned and walked away.

Three years ago, Camille got drunk at a college graduation party.

She collapsed by the roadside and was nearly taken advantage of.

Camille and I went to the same university. By chance, I spotted a group of blond-haired men closing in on her.

I didn't look away. Instead, I helped her up and took her to a nearby hotel.

After tracking her location, Benson arrived shortly after.

When he saw me, he immediately jumped to conclusions, convinced I had exploited her.

He almost had me arrested.

It was only because I was the university's top honor student and scholarship recipient that the professors stepped in on my behalf.

Their intervention finally made Benson pause and review the surveillance footage.

Only then did the truth emerge.

That incident marked the beginning of the complicated relationship between me and the Layton family.

While I was being detained, my sister panicked and got into a car accident.

After Benson learned the full story, his attitude toward me shifted.

He drew up a contract to keep me by Camille's side, making sure I was always there to watch over her.

And truthfully, my credentials made me more than qualified to help her.

As her father, Benson understood better than anyone the real reason Camille got into Blackthorne University.

As I lit a cigarette in the driver's seat, memories from the past flickered through my mind.

The garage was swallowed by shadows, and the sharp burn of the cigarette smoke filled my lungs.

No one could have guessed the hardships I had endured over these last three years.

My former classmates labeled me the Layton family's lapdog, a slave to money, and Camille's sycophant.

The friends I once trusted drifted away, seeing only how submissive I was to Camille and assuming I'd lost all pride.

When these rumors reached my relatives back home, they scoffed. After ten years of relentless study, they said I'd become nothing more than a servant to the wealthy.

They passed judgment without hesitation, embarrassed to claim me as one of their own.

But only I knew the weight of my sister's daily hospital bills.

Graduating from Blackthorne University meant nothing. If I'd taken a normal job, I wouldn't have had the means to keep her from slowly slipping away right in front of me.

The Layton family was to blame for what happened to her.

And yet, they were also the ones who gave me the resources to save her.

I despised the Laytons. I despised Camille.

But no matter how much I tried, I couldn't truly hate them. It was a tangled, conflicted feeling.

Because of them, I had everything I had now—skills, resources, connections, and the power to run this vast empire alone.

I had no regrets about using these three years to give my sister a fighting chance.

The cigarette's ember flared, nearly burning my fingers.

Snapping back to reality, I crushed it beneath my palm.

It was time to bring all of this to an end.

Chapter 4

It was the last month of my contract. While continuing to oversee operations at Layton Group, I quietly managed the handover behind the scenes.

Benson had advised me to let Camille go through some growing pains and give her the time she needed to adjust to leadership.

But that was never my responsibility.

My duty was to ensure a seamless transition. Whether Camille could bear the weight afterward was no longer my concern.

Besides handling the handover, I was laying the groundwork for my next move.

Layton Group's foreign trade network and resources were already in place.

By maintaining control of the shipping resources, I could secure financing and establish my own foreign trade company.

Investment wouldn't be limited to just the Layton family.

With a business model that's more profitable and efficient than the rest, I'd easily attract a wide range of investors.

"Mr. Wexler, here are last month's approval documents. Ms. Layton has rejected a request from our biggest partner, Summit Building Supplies," the head of the foreign trade department reported.

I frowned. "She denied their request?

"But it didn't sound unreasonable. Do you know what her reasons were?"

I took the file and skimmed through the details.

Summit Building Supplies had proposed switching to the Pacific Crest route to speed up their supply cycle.

This change would also boost their monthly shipping capacity.

Opening the Pacific Crest route was already part of Layton Group's expansion plan.

More shipments meant more business. There was no downside for the company.

So why had Camille rejected them?

Her reasoning left me completely baffled.

"Mr. Wexler, how should I respond to the team at Summit Building Supplies?"

I paused, tempted to call Camille for an explanation.

But with less than a month left on my contract, I figured it was best to follow her lead.

After all, the authority lay with her as chairwoman.

"Just respond with the explanation outlined in the document," I said, handing the file back with a nod.

The department head looked taken aback. "If we go that route, we risk losing Summit Building Supplies. Several companies already use the Pacific Crest route. It would be easy for them to jump ship."

I nodded again. "We'll follow Ms. Layton's decision."

"Understood."

The department head didn't say another word and quietly walked away.

Though disappointed, he had to accept that this was Camille's ultimate decision.

…

I remained at the office late into the evening.

The transition was messy, but managing disorder was part of the job.

During a short break, I finally had a moment to make some instant noodles.

I had barely taken a few bites when my phone rang.

"Max, you've got ten minutes to get here."

Camille's impatient voice crackled through the speaker.

I frowned. "Are you drinking again?"

"Mind your own damn business! Can't you understand simple words?

"You've got nine minutes now."

The line went dead before I could say anything else.

Seconds later, my screen flashed with a location ping.

I let out a sigh and dumped the noodles into the trash.

The GPS led me downtown, right to a karaoke lounge.

Of all places… it just had to be here once more.

Camille spent nearly every day wrapped in a fog of indulgence and recklessness. Her drinking had nearly brought catastrophe three years ago.

But she never seemed to learn. Perhaps that was the kind of entitlement that came with being a pampered heiress.

15 minutes later, I hurried in, out of breath.

When I pushed open the door to the lavish private room, I was surprised to see over a dozen familiar faces gathered inside.

All of them were former college classmates.

A few had even been in my major.

Was this some kind of reunion?

Before I could fully register what was happening, the teasing started.

"Look at how obedient Max is. He comes running as soon as Camille snaps her fingers!"

"Haha! Isn't he the legendary top student from our year?"

"What are you talking about? He wasn't just a brainiac. He was also the heartthrob of our entire major. You wouldn't believe how many people had crushes on him back then."

"Hey Max, come sit over here!" someone called, waving me over.

It was Kenneth McReid, the class representative for our major back then.

Kenneth could be a bit arrogant, but he always treated me with respect since I consistently earned a scholarship each semester.

"And what makes him think he deserves a seat?" Camille snapped impatiently. "Stand over here."

After a brief pause, I steadied myself and nodded.

"Yes, Ms. Layton."

In the private room, I stood silently by Camille's side, feeling like nothing more than a mere attendant.

"Step back. You're blocking the way," Camille said curtly.

"Alright," I replied with a nod.

No one else dared to utter a word.

Their eyes reflected a mix of emotions—some reluctant to speak, while others gleamed with a playful, mischievous spark.

"What was that old saying again?" someone asked.

Kenneth finally spoke up. "They say the hardest workers usually end up in the most ordinary jobs. Ms. Layton managing Max is a textbook example."

Chapter 5

Kenneth spoke with a hint of flattery, but Camille just rolled her eyes.

"Me managing Max? I wouldn't even consider hiring him.

"He's nothing but a pathetic leech."

Her words made the whole room gasp.

Maybe none of them had truly realized how little standing I really had in the Layton family.

Kenneth looked me up and down. "Yeah, he's a total parasite. Judging by how much he clings to your family, I'm guessing he's got a thing for you."

As soon as he said it, the room exploded into chaos.

"That makes sense. Otherwise, why else would our former campus heartthrob stoop this low?"

"If you ask me, he's just another poor kid hoping to strike it rich by marrying into money."

"Haha, 'marrying into money.' Now, that's the perfect way to put it!"

The room exploded with laughter, all eyes dripping with contempt as they stared at me.

It was like tearing me down gave them some sick sense of satisfaction.

I was used to these looks by now, but being sized up like this by my old classmates still made me uneasy.

"Ms. Layton, if there's nothing else, I'll wait for you outside," I said, bowing my head slightly. My voice was humble and deferential.

"Who said you're off the hook?" Camille snapped, shooting me a sharp glare. "Get your ass over here and drink up!"

Three glasses of potent liquor rested on the table.

They were imported spirits, known for their high alcohol content.

Even after all these years with Camille, I had never touched a drop of alcohol.

My tolerance was weak, but this time, Camille was relentless in forcing me to drink.

"Ms. Layton, you know my stomach can't handle this," I said, struggling to maintain my composure.

Laughter erupted around the room once more.

"Haha! Of course, he's got stomach issues. It's his go-to excuse."

"Yeah, having a weak stomach makes it way too easy to freeload, doesn't it?"

Out of nowhere, a familiar face stepped forward. It was Quentin Winslet, my old classmate from Blackthorne University.

We never got along back then.

Now that he was seeing me like this, he was clearly enjoying the moment.

"Since our campus prince here loves being a sugar baby, why not make it interesting?

"I'll pay ten grand for every shot he downs!"

With that, Quentin casually pulled a thick stack of bills from his wallet.

Under each glass of liquor lay ten thousand dollars.

The room erupted in applause. Everyone was dazzled by Quentin's flashy display of wealth.

"Drink up, Max," he said, his eyes fixed on me.

Kenneth's lips curled up in a cruel smile.

Camille's relentless gaze cut through me, her message unmistakable.

"I'll give you three seconds."

Her voice was cold and dripping with menace.

"Okay, I'll drink."

Without hesitation, I lifted the glass and emptied it in one swift gulp.

Tonight was a carefully planned night of disgrace, all thanks to Camille.

I felt completely broken, crushed beneath the weight of humiliation.

The liquor scorched my mouth, threatening to swallow me whole.

By the time I downed all three drinks, my stomach was twisting in agony. It was like a fire roaring out of control inside me.

"Well, well, not bad at all," Kenneth sneered. "That's three glasses of pure, undiluted liquor."

Quentin's eyes gleamed with excitement. "Camille, I have to admit, your lackey is unexpectedly obedient.

"Here, reward him with the money!"

My head was pounding when a thick wad of cash suddenly slapped against my cheek.

The impact hit like a punch, sending me crashing to the floor.

"Get up."

Camille's voice rang out. It was cold and commanding.

"Okay."

I clutched my face, but the dizziness only grew stronger.

The floor beneath me seemed to ripple and shift. It felt as if I were walking on clouds.

"Excuse me… I need to use the restroom."

I dragged myself up and stumbled toward the door, barely keeping my balance.

I shoved it open, feeling like I was finally breaking free.

But Camille's stern voice stopped me cold. "Who said you're allowed to leave?"

I didn't answer. If I stayed even a moment longer, I knew I'd throw up right there in front of everyone.

The burning in my stomach grew unbearable. I stumbled toward the restroom, desperately clinging to consciousness.

Finally, I reached the sink and bent over.

I dry heaved violently, but nothing came up.

Dizzy and disoriented, my knees gave out, and I crumpled to the floor.

The lights above melted into a gray, hazy halo as my vision slipped away.

"Max?"

A startled female voice pierced through the haze.

I didn't recognize it, but in the chaos, it was oddly comforting.

Just before everything went black, I saw a delicate, beautiful face leaning close.

It seemed familiar… but I couldn't quite place her.

"Max!"

Her arms closed around me, and her voice trembled with panic.