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At twenty-two, an MIT scholarship paved my road to becoming an architect, building a future I could almost touch. But life had other plans, suddenly derailed by a devastating call: Maya, my kid sister, was diagnosed with aggressive leukemia. The medical bills were astronomical, an impossible weight on my already broken family. My father, crushed by his own demons, offered a desperate lifeline: a "favor" from the powerful Jonathan Hayes. It wasn't charity; it was a dark bargain. My freedom, my dreams, my very self, traded for Maya's life. I became Scarlett Hayes' personal assistant – her shadow, her keeper, her disposable "toy." For five soul-crushing years, I endured her every capricious whim, her tantrums, and her casual, dehumanizing ownership of my time, my body, my dignity. She never asked; she simply took. And I, trapped, let her. Each forced compliance fueled a festering resentment, a cold, hard knot of self-loathing in my gut. My life, my aspirations, melted like ash, yet I persisted, for Maya. How had I, Liam Walker, destined for blueprints and ambition, become this hollow phantom, a silent fixture in a gilded cage? How had my world twisted into this soulless transaction, my very being reduced to a commodity? The humiliation was suffocating, the injustice a constant scream within me. Was I truly beyond redemption, or could I ever escape this nightmare? Then, the news that shifted my universe: Maya was in remission. The immediate burden lifted, and in that exhale of relief, the years of festering rage, the profound self-disgust, and the silent compliance hardened into an unyielding resolve. I was done being her plaything. Liam Walker was taking his life back, no matter the cost.