Chrissy sat on the dusty floorboards of the attic, her fingers buried in Greyson's fur. The dog's steady heartbeat against her palm was the only thing keeping her grounded.
She pulled a battered canvas duffel bag from under her narrow cot.
She didn't have much. She packed three pairs of faded jeans, a few plain t-shirts, and her entire collection of professional baking tools.
She picked up a yellowed, dog-eared French pastry recipe book. As she went to slide it into the bag, the attic door was kicked open.
Bang.
Chrissy didn't flinch. She just kept packing.
Arleen Vega stood in the doorway. She was wearing a silk Chanel nightgown that cost more than Chrissy made in six months at the bakery. Her arms were crossed over her chest.
Arleen looked around the cramped, dimly lit room and clicked her tongue.
"What a pathetic little beggar's nest," Arleen mocked, her voice dripping with venom.
Chrissy ignored her. She zipped up the duffel bag and reached for Greyson's leash.
Arleen's eyes narrowed. She hated being ignored. She stepped into the room in her fluffy slippers and deliberately kicked Greyson's plastic water bowl.
Water splashed across the floorboards, soaking the toe of Chrissy's worn-out sneaker.
Chrissy slowly lifted her head. She stared at Arleen, her jaw tight.
"What?" Arleen sneered. "You've been Mrs. Rush for two hours and you suddenly think you're too good to speak to your own sister?"
Chrissy stood up. She pulled Greyson behind her legs to protect him.
"Move out of my way, Arleen," Chrissy said. "I'm leaving."
Arleen took a step forward, blocking the door. Her eyes were wide with a toxic mix of jealousy and superiority.
"Do you really think you've hit the jackpot?" Arleen laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "Everyone in Los Angeles knows Arch Rush is a violent, twisted cripple."
Arleen leaned in closer. "He's not even a real man anymore. You didn't marry a billionaire. You just signed up to be a glorified, unpaid nurse."
Chrissy didn't back down.
"If it's such a terrible fate," Chrissy shot back, her voice deadly calm, "then why did you cry and beg Dad on your knees to let you back out of the engagement?"
The words hit Arleen perfectly.
Arleen had originally agreed to the arranged marriage because she wanted the Rush family billions. But the moment she heard the rumors that Arch's car accident had left him permanently impotent and prone to violent rages, she had panicked and forced her parents to use Chrissy as the sacrificial lamb.
Arleen's face flushed a dark, ugly red.
"You little midwestern hick!" Arleen shrieked. "How dare you talk to me like that!"
Arleen raised her right hand. Her long, sharp acrylic nails flashed in the dim light as she swung her arm down, aiming a vicious slap directly at Chrissy's face.
In the past, Chrissy would have squeezed her eyes shut and taken the hit to keep the peace.
But not today. She was done.
Chrissy's left hand shot up.
She caught Arleen's wrist mid-air. Chrissy spent eight hours a day kneading heavy dough. Her grip was like iron.
Arleen gasped in pain. "Let go of me, you bitch!"
Arleen thrashed, raising her other hand to grab a fistful of Chrissy's hair.
Chrissy's eyes went cold.
Without a second of hesitation, Chrissy lifted her right foot and kicked Arleen squarely in the shin.
"Ah!" Arleen screamed.
Her legs buckled. She lost her balance and crashed backward, landing hard on the wet floorboards right in the puddle of spilled dog water.
The expensive Chanel silk instantly soaked up the dirty water, clinging to her skin. Arleen sat there, staring at Chrissy with wide, disbelieving eyes.
"You hit me!" Arleen shrieked, her voice echoing down the stairs. "I'm going to tell Dad! I'm going to have you thrown out on the street!"
Chrissy stood over her, looking down with absolute disgust.
"You're confused about how things work now, Arleen," Chrissy said quietly.
"The Vega family isn't doing me a favor by letting me stay here. The Vega family is currently surviving on the fifty million dollars I sold my body for."
Chrissy leaned down slightly. "Push me again, and I will gladly whisper in Mr. Rush's ear tonight. I will ask him to freeze your accounts. Let's see how long you survive without my money."
Arleen's mouth opened and closed like a dying fish. She was completely paralyzed by the threat.
Heavy, frantic footsteps pounded on the wooden stairs outside.
Hank and Sherry had heard the screaming. They were rushing up to the attic.
