Chapter 6 6

The front door slammed shut, signaling Cordero's departure. The vibration seemed to shake the house.

Elaina sat alone in the vast dining room. The spilled coffee on the tablecloth was spreading, a dark, ugly stain.

She stood up and walked to the window where Amanda had fled. She saw Amanda's car peeling out of the driveway, gravel spraying.

Elaina knew this wasn't over. Amanda was a cockroach; she would survive this. She would spin a story-stress, a misunderstanding, a prescription mix-up. She had the Boone family wrapped around her finger.

Elaina needed leverage. And she needed resources.

She went upstairs to the master bedroom and opened the safe in the closet. She knew the combination-Cordero hadn't changed it from the default factory setting yet. 0-0-0-0. He didn't care enough to secure anything from her because he thought she was too stupid to steal.

Inside, there was cash, watches, and documents. She ignored the cash. Taking it would make her a thief in his eyes.

She reached for a small velvet box in the back. It contained a diamond necklace. It wasn't a Boone heirloom. It was the one gift her biological mother had left her before disappearing. It was the only thing of value Elaina actually owned.

In her last life, Amanda had convinced her to trade it for a fake Hermes bag to "fit in."

Elaina pocketed the necklace.

She called an Uber. She didn't use the family driver. She needed to be invisible.

An hour later, she was in a pawn shop in the Diamond District. The man behind the counter, a guy with thick glasses and thicker fingers, sneered at her jeans and ponytail.

"Thirty thousand," he grunted, barely looking at the stone. "Market is down."

Elaina leaned forward. Her eyes were hard. "This is a vintage Cartier setting from 1985. The center stone is a 2.5-carat cushion cut, VVS1 clarity, color E. The setting alone is worth fifty thousand at scrap value. The stone is worth at least two hundred."

The man paused. He looked up, adjusting his glasses. He looked at her properly.

"I'll give you one hundred and fifty thousand," he said, his tone changing.

"One hundred and eighty. Cash. Or I walk to the guy next door who knows I know what I'm talking about."

The man grunted again, but he opened the register.

Elaina walked out with a thick envelope of cash. It wasn't a fortune, but it was freedom. As she was about to leave, something in a dusty display case caught her eye. It was an old, black fountain pen with a worn gold nib. Frowning, she leaned closer. The faint, tarnished inscription was almost unreadable, but she recognized the elegant script: 'To Arthur, Love Mary, 1965'. Grandpa Boone's name was Arthur. His late wife was Mary. She remembered his stories about a lost pen, a treasured gift. She turned back to the counter, her heart pounding. "How much for the pen?" she asked, keeping her voice steady. After a brief haggle, she bought it with a small fraction of her new funds, a priceless weapon secured for a pittance.

She went to a bookstore. She bought several contemporary German business journals and a book on Hamburg's corporate etiquette. She knew Cordero's company was merging with a Hamburg firm next month. In her last life, the deal failed because of a cultural misunderstanding.

She sat in a coffee shop, counting her money.

Her phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number.

An image loaded. It was a photo of Cordero and Amanda, taken from a distance. They were standing close together. It looked intimate.

He needs comfort after living with a psycho, the caption read.

Elaina zoomed in. She recognized the background. It was the parking lot of Cordero's office building. Amanda had ambushed him. And looking closely at Cordero's body language... his arms were crossed. He was leaning away.

Elaina deleted the message.

"Nice try," she whispered.

She needed to prepare for the Gala. It was in three days. Mrs. Boone's 60th birthday. It was the event of the season.

In her past life, she had worn a red dress that was too tight and too short. Amanda had told her it was "sexy." Everyone had laughed.

This time, she was going to war. And she needed armor.

She remembered something. Amanda was planning to gift Mrs. Boone a "handmade" gown. She claimed she had sewn it herself for months.

Elaina smiled. A cold, predatory smile.

She knew exactly where that dress really came from.