Chapter 4 4

The Alvarado estate on Long Island was a monument to new money trying to look old.

White stone pillars, manicured hedges that looked plastic, and a driveway filled with Bentleys and Rolls Royces. The gala was in full swing.

Inside the ballroom, Candi Alvarado held court. She wore a pink tulle dress that cost more than a small house, but it did nothing to hide the cruelty in her eyes. She was surrounded by her entourage, a gaggle of socialites who laughed on cue.

"Can you believe she's back?" Candi said loudly, sipping champagne. "I heard she's living in a motel in Queens. Probably spent all her allowance on burgers."

The group tittered.

In the corner, Bella White shrank against the wall. She was holding a glass of water, trying to be invisible. Her family's pharmaceutical supply company was failing, and Francis was their last hope for a contract.

Candi spotted her. Her eyes lit up.

"Oh look, it's the whale's pilot fish," Candi sneered, leading her group toward Bella.

Bella flinched. "Hello, Candi. Happy birthday."

"Save it," Candi snapped. "Where is she? Did she roll here? Or did she get stuck in the doorway?"

"Kat isn't... she isn't like that anymore," Bella stammered.

"Please," Candi scoffed. She snapped her fingers. A projector screen lowered from the ceiling behind the small stage. "I prepared a little slideshow. A tribute to my dear sister."

A photo appeared on the massive screen. It was Katarina from five years ago, mid-bite into a sandwich, looking swollen and miserable.

The room erupted in laughter.

"Look at that," Candi laughed. "Disgusting. She was a disgrace to the name."

Bella's eyes filled with tears. She stared at the floor, wishing it would open up and swallow her.

BOOM.

The double oak doors at the entrance of the ballroom were thrown open with enough force that they bounced off the walls.

The music died. The laughter choked off.

A silhouette stood in the doorway, backlit by the foyer lights. A long trench coat billowed around the figure.

Click. Click. Click.

The sound of heels on the marble floor echoed in the sudden silence.

The woman reached up and undid the belt of her coat. She shrugged it off, letting the expensive fabric fall to the floor for a servant to catch.

Gasps rippled through the room.

She wore a black dress that defied physics. It clung to every curve, slashed high on the thigh, low on the back. Her skin was luminous, glowing under the chandeliers. Her hair cascaded down her back like a dark river.

She didn't look at the crowd. She walked straight toward the stage.

"Who is that?" a man whispered.

"Is that a celebrity?"

Candi's smile faltered. She squinted. The woman walked with a confidence that Candi had never possessed.

The woman stopped in front of Bella. She reached out a hand, her fingers long and elegant. She gently lifted Bella's chin.

"Chin up, B," the woman said. Her voice was smoky, rich. "Your crown is slipping."

Bella stared. She looked into those eyes-the only thing that hadn't changed.

"Kat?" Bella breathed.

The whisper carried.

"Kat?" Candi shrieked. "That's impossible!"

Katarina turned slowly to face her stepsister. The movement was fluid, lethal. She looked at Candi the way a lion looks at a limping gazelle.

"Hello, Candi," Katarina said. "Happy birthday."

"You... you..." Candi stuttered, pointing a shaking finger. "You're a fake! You had surgery! Liposuction! You're still a pig inside!"

Katarina laughed. It was a cold, sharp sound. She walked over to the projector controls. She hit a button, killing the image of her past self.

"I see you've kept my old photos," Katarina said, walking toward Candi. "Sentimental."

"Get out!" Candi screamed. "Daddy! Get her out!"

Francis Alvarado emerged from the crowd. He stopped dead when he saw Katarina. His eyes didn't show love; they showed calculation. He saw the beauty, the power, the potential market value.

"Katarina," Francis said, spreading his arms. "My daughter."

"Don't," Katarina said, holding up a hand. She didn't stop walking toward Candi.

She bent down and picked up a stack of the printed photos Candi had left on a table.

Auston Mcmahon pushed through the crowd. He stopped next to Francis, his jaw practically on the floor. He stared at Katarina with a hunger that was palpable.

"Kat?" Auston breathed. "My god."

Katarina ignored him. She stood toe-to-toe with Candi. Candi was wearing heels, but Katarina still seemed to tower over her.

"You like these photos so much?" Katarina asked softly.

She raised the stack of photos.

"Eat them."