Chapter 1: The Delivery That Led to My Boyfriend's Party

Lori

I never imagined that the final delivery of my evening would take me to my boyfriend's victory celebration. Even less did I imagine that when someone opened the takeout bag, they'd find not just the food, but also a twelve-inch black dildo.

And there I stood in the center of the crowd, wearing my black Nobu uniform, clutching the ring I'd planned to give my boyfriend.

Two hours earlier, I genuinely believed tonight would mark the beginning of a better chapter in my life.

Austin's hockey team had won their first game of the season. That afternoon, he'd texted me about a victory party at Malibu Estates that evening, asking me to come over after work. He'd even mentioned having a surprise for me.

I'd stared at that message for a long time. In our two years together, he rarely used the word "surprise." Especially since starting college, he'd grown increasingly reluctant to make our relationship public. But tonight felt different—he'd won his game, he was in a good mood, and he'd actually invited me to his party.

I'd requested to leave work early from my manager, Emily.

She looked up at me with a teasing tone. "Going to your boyfriend's victory party?"

I touched my nose sheepishly. Instead of continuing her playful ribbing, the manager pulled out an order slip and handed it over.

"I was going to have someone else handle this, but the address happens to be in Malibu Estates," she said. "Number nineteen—not far from where you're headed. The customer is a regular who just called to rush the order, and they tipped five hundred dollars."

She paused, then added: "Of course, if you're in a hurry, I can get someone else to take it."

Five hundred dollars.

The refusal I'd been about to voice stuck in my throat. Since leaving the Morris household, the first lesson I'd learned was never to turn down money.

The manager then placed a separately sealed small paper bag beside the food bag, looking somewhat uncomfortable.

"There's an additional request—everything has to be delivered together to the door."

I opened the bag and glanced inside. A twelve-inch black realistic dildo stared back at me.

It did strike me as absurd in that moment. But what wasn't absurd in Malibu? Rich people would have someone deliver a specific brand of mineral water at 3 AM, so why not have personal items picked up along with their dinner order?

The manager noticed my hesitation. "If you're uncomfortable, I'll get someone else."

"No need." I stuffed the paper bag deep into the food bag. "It's just a delivery."

I even felt like fate was finally throwing me a bone. Austin had given me the party address as 24 Malibu Estates, while this order was for number nineteen—just a few houses apart.

Carrying the bag, I walked out the back door of Nobu into the evening breeze that carried the mixed scents of ocean air and car exhaust. My phone buzzed—a message from Austin.

You're coming, right?

I looked down at those words and couldn't help smiling.

Of course.

He replied quickly:

Hurry. I'm waiting for you.

Just five words, but they felt like candy in my mouth. Two years ago, when everyone else was reassessing my worth, Austin had said something similar. That was right after the Morris family had found their real daughter.

Catherine Morris.

And I, the girl who'd been switched at birth, went from being Miss Morris in everyone's eyes to a thief who'd stolen nineteen years of someone else's life overnight. Everyone expected me to end up on the streets.

Only Austin had stood firmly beside me.

"Lori, whether you're the Morris family's biological daughter or not, I choose you."

My car wound up the Malibu mountain road, the villa lights scattered across the hills like broken diamonds. I'd lived in places like this before—with security gates, iron fences, and perfectly manicured lawns. I was equally familiar with the naturally scrutinizing looks from people there toward outsiders. But tonight I just wanted to finish this delivery quickly and see Austin.

The driveway at 19 Malibu Estates was packed with sports cars. Music and laughter spilled from the house, lively as if there was a party going on. I stood at the door, double-checking the order to make sure I had the right place. I smoothed my wind-tousled hair and straightened the collar of my Nobu uniform before ringing the doorbell.

The door opened quickly.

I put on my professional smile. "Hello, Nobu delivery—"

The words caught in my throat.

The person who'd answered wore a white slip dress, her long hair beautifully curled, a diamond necklace sparkling with fire under the entryway light. She froze when she saw me too, but her surprise quickly transformed into a mocking smile.

Catherine Morris. The real Miss Morris. Also the person in this world who most wanted to see me humiliated.

My fingers tightened bit by bit, the bag handle digging into my palm. Only one question filled my mind: Why her? This was clearly number nineteen, and Austin had given me twenty-four. But the laughter from inside, the music, the familiar jerseys, and those silhouettes quickly provided my answer.

"Lori?" Catherine slowly pronounced my name, her voice sickeningly sweet. "My God, I thought I was seeing things. Are you really delivering takeout now?"