Shattered Vows The Billionaire's Cruel Contract

When my family went bankrupt and creditors chased me into a corner, the poor boy I once looked down on had become a new darling of the business world.

Anthony Vance looked down at me from above. Layla Sullivan, be my mistress, and I'll pay off your debts.

I didn't hesitate. I signed that humiliating agreement.

After we met again, I was no longer spoiled and willful.

He brought his fiance to humiliate me. I lowered my head and poured their wine.

Even when he doted on her right in front of me, I would only smile faintly, turn, and leave.

I became the obedient plaything he wanted.

But when I finally paid off the debts and was ready to leave, he grabbed my wrist like he'd gone mad. "Who said you could leave?"

"Layla, did you stop loving me a long time ago?"

Rain curtained the deep alleyways of Harborview City, droplets cracking against brick walls.

I curled up in a muddy corner, trembling.

The fresh cigarette burn on my forehead still sizzled, pain drilling into bone. A little "gift" from the debt collectors.

"Miss Sullivan, if you can't pay tonight, next time we burn your face."

They left behind a ground full of filthy insults and my torn clothes.

Harsh headlights swept over, exposing me completely.

I raised a hand to shield my eyesnothing but mud and grime between my fingers.

A black Maybach rolled to a stop, the window lowering halfway.

I used to ride in that car all the time. Before everything fell apart.

The door opened. A gleaming leather shoe stepped into the murky puddle.

My gaze traveled upward: sharply pressed suit pants, a meticulously tailored jacket. Six figures, minimum.

The man held a black umbrella and looked down at me, eyes colder than the November rain.

I froze.

Anthony Vance.

The poor student I once despised for his background. The one my family kicked out.

Now Harborview City's hottest tech mogul.

And I was a fallen heiress drowning in debt.

The creditors who'd been vicious moments ago immediately switched to fawning smiles.

"Mr. Vance! In rain this heavy, why would you personally"

Anthony ignored them. He only stared at me.

He walked over and lifted his foot, pressing it down on the back of my bracing hand.

I didn't pull away. Let him step on it.

It was so cold that his shoe actually felt warm.

He slowly added pressure, grinding down.

My hand bones made a grating sound.

"Layla Sullivan, does it hurt?"

His voice was low, carrying a grim chill.

"Like back then? That snowy day when you people threw me out the front door like trash?"

I clenched my teeth and stayed silent.

It hurt. Of course it hurt.

But I didn't have the right to cry.

The creditors understood immediatelyin front of this new darling, I was nothing but a plaything.

Anthony withdrew his foot and rubbed the sole against the grass in disgust.

"Layla Sullivan, beg me."

I lifted my head. Rainwater ran down my tangled hair into my eyes, stinging.

"Mr. Vance, can you lend me fifty thousand? My younger brother is in the hospital"

"Lend?"

He laughed coldly.

"The Sullivans are gone. What would you pay me back with? This body that's already been used up?"

I didn't speak. My nails dug into my palms.

He bent down, gripped my chin, and forced me to meet his gaze.

"Be my mistress, and I'll pay off your debts."

I didn't hesitate long.

Against my brother's sky-high medical bills, dignity wasn't worth the paper it was printed on.

"Okay."

My voice came out hoarse, scraped raw from somewhere deep in my throat.

Anthony was far from satisfied with my compliance; a flash of cruelty passed through his eyes.

"Get in the car."

The heat inside hit me like a wall, sharp with cedar.

A pink cartoon throw pillow sat on the passenger seatAudrey Swanson's style.

I was soaked through, shrinking back, not daring to sit fully.

Anthony got in. Seeing me like this, his brow furrowed deeper.

"What's with the innocent act?"

He clamped a hand around my waist and yanked me onto his lap.

Mud and dirty water smeared across his expensive suit pants.

I panicked, trying to get up. "Mr. Vance, it's dirty"

"So you know you're dirty too?"

His tone was mocking, and his fingers traced mercilessly across the burn on my forehead.

"Who you are now is only worth this price."

The car sped through the city, arriving at a hillside villa in the south.

That was where Anthony lived now.

Inside, he pointed straight at the bathroom.

"Go wash yourself clean. Don't dirty my floor."

There were no clean clothes to change into.

I came out wrapped in a bath towel. Anthony was on the sofa, smoking.

He tossed me a silk nightgown.

It wasn't new.

"Put it on."

I unfolded it and caught the scent of perfume.

Mon Paris. Audrey's signature.

I turned my back, untied the towel, and pulled on the nightgown.

When I turned around, Anthony was on a video call.

On the screen, Audrey smiled sweetly. "Anthony, are you asleep? I miss you."

The man who'd looked so cold moments ago now spoke in a voice so gentle it didn't seem like him.

"Not yet. Just finished dealing with a bit of trash. Go to sleep early. I'll pick you up tomorrow."

I stood three yards away, listening to him be tender with another woman.

After he hung up, the gentleness vanished from his face.

He looked at meundisguised desire and disgust intertwined in his eyes.

He stood, crossed the room in a few strides, and shoved me down onto the sofa.

I squeezed my eyes shut, my body tensed like a bowstring.

The violation I expected never came.

A snort of laughter sounded by my ear.

"Smells poor. Makes me lose my appetite."

He let go and pulled out a wet wipe, carefully wiping his hands.

"Get out to the guest room and sleep on the floor. Don't let me see you."

Clutching my collar, I scrambled into the guest room.

The room was big, but I didn't dare touch the bed.

I curled up on the floor, fingers brushing the spot on my left ring finger.

A faint ring-shaped mark still lingered there.

Once, a straw-braided ring had circled that finger.

That poor boy, Anthony, had made it for me in the Sullivan family's back garden, his hands covered in blood.

He said: Layla, someday I'll replace it with a real one.

Now, the ring had long since rotted in the mud.

Me too.

At six in the morning, I fried eggs and toasted bread, cutting off the hard crusts.

Anthony doesn't eat lettuce, and he doesn't eat fried eggs with overcooked yolks.

I remembered his habits more clearly than my own birthday.

Out of habit, I swapped the lettuce for cucumber slices.

At seven, Anthony came downstairs.

Seeing the breakfast on the table, his steps faltered.

I stood by the dining table, hands folded, eyes lowered.

"Mr. Vance, breakfast is ready."

He walked over, his gaze landing on the sandwich.

The next second, he swept the plate straight into the trash.

A crisp clatter.

Anthony looked at me coldly. "Layla, who do you think I am? I stopped eating this cheap taste a long time ago."

I stared at the fried eggs scattered in the trash, and my chest tightened.

Back then, I'd hated how bland cucumbers tasted and made him switch to lettuce.

To please me, he'd forced himself to get used to it.

Now he didn't even want the cucumbers he used to love.

"Sorry. I didn't know your preferences."

I crouched down and started cleaning up the mess.

A shard of porcelain sliced my finger. Blood beaded up.

Anthony didn't even glance at it. He stepped over me and grabbed a bottle of Evian from the fridge.

"There's a banquet tonight. You're coming."

His tone was ice.

"With my current status, it's not appropriate"

"What status?" He cut me off with a sneer. "A prostitute? Or Miss Sullivan?"

I had no answer.

"If you're going to be arm candy, act like it."

He tossed me a black gift box.

"Put this on. Don't embarrass me."

That afternoon, a stylist came to do my hair and makeup.

When I opened the box, I found a red, skintight spaghetti-strap dress.

There was barely any fabric. The entire back was bare, the slit climbing all the way to my upper thigh.

This was something a nightclub dancer would wearnot a gown for a business banquet.

But I had no right to refuse.

After putting it on, I stood before the mirror and lowered my eyes. The woman staring back looked no different from an antique on an auction block.

Eight o'clock that night. Harborview City's largest banquet hall.

I walked in on Anthony's arm.

Instantly, countless gazes landed on me.

"Isn't that Miss Sullivan?"

"What Miss Sullivan? The Sullivans went under ages ago. I heard she'll do anything to pay off debts."

"Tsk. Dressed like thatshe's probably being kept by Mr. Vance, huh? She used to act like she was better than everyone."

Anthony acted like he heard nothing, guiding me through the crowd.

Those trust-fund kids who used to swarm around menow they looked at me with something between mockery and hunger.

A potbellied man named Jesse Lambert walked over, wineglass in hand.

"Mr. Vance, you've got good taste. This one looks familiarkiller body."

His eyes crawled over my chest.

Instinctively, I shrank behind Anthony.

But he stepped aside, leaving me fully exposed to Lambert's gaze.

He sipped his champagne, a lazy smile playing on his lips.

"It is pretty killer. If Mr. Lambert's interested, I'll have her pour you drinks sometime."

I looked up at him.

No protection in his eyes. Only cold satisfaction.

"Then it's a deal!" Lambert reached out, fingers aimed at my waist.

I forced myself to dodge, swallowing back nausea.

"Oh, she's got some fire." Lambert's expression soured.

"That's what makes the training fun, isn't it, Layla Sullivan?"

Anthony turned to me. His voice was softthe kind of softness that made your skin crawl.

I lowered my head.

"Yes. Mr. Vance is right."

Just then, Audrey glided in wearing a white custom couture gown, a designer bag hooked over her arm.

The moment she spotted Anthony, a sweet smile bloomed across her face.

"Anthony! Traffic was a nightmareI'm so late."

He left me behind and strode toward her, his arm sliding naturally around her waist.

Audrey seemed to notice me only then, covering her mouth in exaggerated surprise.

"Oh! Isn't that Layla? Long time no seewhy are you dressed like this..."

A flash of vicious satisfaction flickered in her eyes, but her face stayed painted with concern.

"Have things been rough? You've gotten so thin you barely look like yourself."

She stepped closer. The hand holding her red wine trembled.

The wine splashed straight onto my chest.

I raised my hand to block her, and the back of my hand grazed her wrist.

"Ah!"

Audrey cried out as the glass shattered across the floor.

She clutched her wrist, eyes glistening, and looked at Anthony. "Anthony, I just wanted to say hello to Layla. She still blames me for taking you away."

The room went silent.

Anthony strode over, checked Audrey's wrist, then turned to me. "Layla, are you looking to die?"

The injusticethe bone-deep coldmade my whole body shake. "I didn't push her. She spilled it on herself."

"Why would Audrey spill red wine on herself?" He sneered. "Apologize to her."

No trust in his eyes. Only disgust.

Audrey tugged his sleeve, her voice soft. "Anthony, forget it. Layla didn't mean to. So many people are watching"

His gaze on me turned colder. "Don't make me say it twice."

Whatever backbone I once hadwhatever self-respecthad long since crumbled to dust in front of this man.

I bent toward Audrey. "I'm sorry, Ms. Swanson. I wasn't careful."

Anthony wasn't satisfied that I gave in so quickly.

He pointed at the row of liquor on the table. "Since it was 'not careful,' drink these to make up for it. Finish them, and we'll let this go."

Five or six bottles of hard liquor.

I looked up at him. "Mr. Vance, I have a serious stomach condition. If I drink that, I'll have internal bleeding."

"That's your problem."

He wrapped his arm around Audrey and walked away without looking back.

Everyone watched.

With trembling hands, I picked up the first glass.

The liquid slid down my throat, and burning pain flared through my stomach.

One glass. Two. Three

By the fifth, my stomach spasmed.

I covered my mouth and rushed to the restroom.

I threw up until the world spun. By the end, it was nothing but bright red blood.

I wiped the blood from my mouth and stared at the ghost in the mirror.

Outside, men's laughter drifted in. "Seeing her so pathetic, begging like thatdamn, that felt good."

I stayed in the stall for a long time, until my phone buzzed nonstop.

The hospital.

"Miss Sullivan, your brother developed sudden complications and needs emergency surgery. Please pay $50,000 immediately, or the procedure can't proceed."

Fifty thousand.

To the old me, that was just the price of a handbag.

To the current me, it was a life.

I rushed out. Anthony was at the jewelry counter, helping Audrey pick out a diamond ring.

I ran over and grabbed his sleeve. "Mr. Vance, pleasegive me $50,000. Right now. My brother is being resuscitated!"

Anthony frowned and shook off my hand. "What are you doing, making a scene in a place like this?"

Audrey covered her mouth and laughed. "Layla, even if you're begging for money, pick the right moment. Anthony's choosing my engagement ring."

"Anthony, that's a human life! That's William! He used to call you brother!"

Anthony's hand paused.

Then his eyes turned even darker. "He's a Sullivan. What does that have to do with me? It'd be better if everyone in that family died off."

He turned back to the rings. "The contract says payment per session. You made me very unhappy tonight. This oneno money."

"What do I have to do? I'll do anything."

Anthony turned, his gaze dropping to my knees. "I want you to kneel down and tie my shoelaces."

His leather shoes were spotless. The laces, perfectly tied.

He was humiliating me.

But William was still on the operating table.

I didn't hesitate. I dropped to my knees with a dull thud. The marble sent pain shooting through my legs. Around me, sharp inhales and muffled snickers filled the air.

With trembling hands, I untied his laces and retied them into a neat bow.

"It's done, Mr. Vance."

I looked up.

Anthony stared down at me, something unreadable flickering in his eyes.

Then he kicked my hand away.

"What a pity. I'm in an even worse mood now."

He wrapped an arm around Audrey and strode off without a backward glance.

Leaving me there on the floor.

I burst out of the banquet hall like a madwoman, sprinting through the downpour toward the hospital.

Before I even reached the entrance, I slammed into a solid chest at the corner.

"Careful."

Strong hands steadied me.

I looked up. A composed face behind gold-rimmed glassesrefined, almost scholarly. But I didn't have time to study him. I shoved against his grip.

"Move! I need to save someone!"

He didn't let go. Instead, he handed me a payment slip.

"I already covered William Sullivan's surgery fee. You can pay it back slowly."

I froze. My mind went blank.

"Who are you?"

"Scott Delgado. The lawyer who handled the Sullivan Group bankruptcy. Currently representing your creditors."

He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the rain from my face.

"Miss Sullivan, even as a debtor, there's no need to degrade yourself for trash like him."

I kept vigil at the hospital all night. By morning, William was out of danger.

When I returned to the villa the next day, it was already noon. I was still wearing the suit jacket Scott had lent me, carrying the faint scent of mint and tobacco.

The moment I pushed open the door, the atmosphere hit me like a wall.

Anthony sat on the sofa. Cigarette butts littered the floor around his feet.

When he saw the men's jacket on my shoulders, he exploded.

He charged over, ripped the jacket off me, and hurled it to the ground, tearing at the fabric.

"Layla Sullivan, you're really something! You roll out of my bed and find yourself a new sugar daddy just like that?"

His eyes were bloodshot, his voice unhinged.

"Who is he? That Scott Delgado? When did you two start?"

He grabbed the scissors from the table and slashed the expensive jacket to shreds.

"I didn't! He saved William!"

I lunged forward, trying to salvage itit wasn't even mine to ruin.

Anthony slammed me down onto the coffee tableright onto the shards from the glass he'd smashed yesterday.

Glass bit into my back. I gasped at the searing pain.

"Saved William?" He laughed, cold and cruel. "I think you're just addicted to selling yourself. For that half-dead bastard, you'd spread your legs for any man, wouldn't you?"

Smack!

I slapped him with everything I had.

Anthony's head snapped to the side. A bright red handprint bloomed across his cheek.

Slowly, he turned back. His tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek, his gaze lethal.

"Layla Sullivan. You dare hit me?"

I was panting, tears burning in my eyes.

"You can insult me all you want, Anthony. But don't you dare insult William. And don't you dare insult someone who actually helped me."

This was the first time I'd fought back since we reunited.

That slap shattered the last pretense of civility between us.

He laughed suddenlya sound that sent ice down my spine.

"Fine. Very fine. Since you've got so much backbone, let's see just how hard those bones really are."

Anthony's revenge came fast.

That night, he took me to a private gathering.

Unlike the formal business banquets, this crowd ran wilder. The games were dirtier.

A grand piano dominated the center of the hall, and beside it sat a violin that probably cost more than most people's cars.

Audrey perched at the piano bench, all doe eyes and dimples.

"Layla, I heard you used to be concertmaster. Since everyone's here tonightwhy don't we play a duet?"

Anthony lounged in the seat of honor, swirling his wine, his gaze lazy and mocking.

"Play. If you're any good, I'll let last night's slap slide."

Not a request. An order.

I stared at that instrument, and my hands wouldn't stop shaking.

These hands had hauled bricks, scrubbed dishes, weathered chilblains until the skin cracked. My joints were stiff now. I couldn't coax out that weeping, aching melody anymore.

But I had no choice.

I lifted the violin and tucked it under my chin.

The moment bow met string, a raw, grating screech tore through the room.

Snickers rippled through the crowd.

Audrey's piano kicked in right afterbut she sabotaged the tempo on purpose, rushing then dragging, rushing then dragging.

My sound collapsed into chaos.

Before the piece ended, Audrey froze mid-phrase, her hand flying to her throat.

"My necklace! That was the engagement necklace Anthony gave meit's worth thirty million!"

The room exploded.

"It was just there!"

"How does something like that just vanish?"

Audrey's gaze slid to my open violin case.

"Layla, could it be"

She didn't have to finish. Two bodyguards were already on me, ripping the case from my hands, shaking it out.

A diamond necklace tumbled from the hidden lining.

Caught red-handed.

Every face in the room wore the same look: of course.

"It wasn't me!"

I could've had a hundred mouths and it wouldn't have mattered.

"I never even touched it!"

Anthony rose and walked toward me, slow and deliberate.

He picked up the necklace, studied it, then looked at me.

That lookcold, flat, utterly done.

"Layla, when did you sink this low? If you needed money, you could've asked. Stealing?"

"I didn't!" The scream ripped out of me. "She planted it! The case was sitting there the whole timeI never moved!"

Audrey cowered behind Anthony, tears streaming prettily down her cheeks.

"Layla, if you liked it that much, I would've given it to you. Why steal? If word gets out, Anthony's reputation"

Anthony's eyes slid shut. Patience gone.

"Sticky fingers. No use keeping you."

He flicked his wrist. Two guards seized my arms, one on each side, and slammed my hands flat against the table.

Anthony grabbed a wine bottle by the neck.

"If these hands can't make musicif all they know how to do is stealthen let's get rid of them."

My eyes went wide, locked on the bottle rising above me.

"Anthony! You can't do this! I was the one who sold my violin to help fund your startupdid you forget?!"

"Shut up!"

His roar shook the room. "Even now you're lying! You were the one who chased money, took it, and ran off with some other man!"

That. That was why he hated me.

That lie from years agoit had festered in him like poison.

I was out of options.

Explanations were useless. Tears were useless. Whatever we'd once had was the biggest joke of all.

Crack.

The bottle came down.

White-hot pain exploded through my left hand. I heard bone shatter.

I didn't scream. Didn't cry.

When pain hits a certain point, it just goes numb.

Blood and wine spread across the white tablecloth in a dark, creeping stain.

Anthony stared at that pool of red. His hand trembled. The bottle slipped from his grip and shattered on the floor.

He didn't expect me not to dodge.

I reached into my pocket with my uninjured right hand and pulled out a check.

Scott's advance from this morning. Fifty thousand dollars.

I slammed it onto the tableblood smearing across the paper, my handprint staining the numbers red.

I met Anthony's eyes. Mine were hollow.

"Mr. Vance."

"This hand pays for your necklace."

"This check covers the rest."

I turned and walked out, dragging my ruined hand behind me. Each step left a drop of blood on the floor.

"We're even."