Chapter 3 3

Isabella POV

The invitation sat on the polished mahogany table like a declaration of war printed on heavy cream cardstock. The embossed crest of the Kane family-a roaring lion entangled in vines-shimmered under the chandelier's light, mocking me.

It was the following morning, and the air in the Frazier sitting room was thick with the scent of stale coffee and desperate ambition.

"It's addressed to the *Frazier Family*," Bethany said, tracing the gold lettering with a manicured fingernail. She looked up, her eyes gleaming with a hunger that made her pretty face look predatory. "That means me. Alexandria finally realizes that we belong in the inner circle."

I sat across from her, sipping tea that tasted like ash. "It means Jaret," I corrected softly, my voice devoid of the venom coursing through my veins. "The Kanes don't invite minor families to their private galas unless they want something. They want an alliance. They want Jaret for Alexandria."

Bethany's smile faltered, replaced by a sneer. "You're just jealous, Isabella. You know you don't belong there. A merchant's daughter among the *Cosa Nostra* royalty? You'd be eaten alive."

"Perhaps," I murmured, lowering my gaze to hide the cold calculation in my eyes. "Or perhaps I just know that cattle don't usually celebrate when they're being taken to market."

"Watch your mouth," Aunt Cathy snapped from her chaise lounge, though she didn't look up from her ledger. "Bethany is right. You should be grateful we even let you stay in this house, considering your... mixed heritage."

I didn't flinch. I had heard these insults a thousand times in my past life. They used to make me cry. Now, they were just noise.

I shifted in my seat, deliberately letting the morning light catch the heavy sapphire resting against my collarbone. *The Heart of the Lake*. The deep blue stone, surrounded by a halo of blinding diamonds, flared with brilliance.

Bethany's eyes snapped to my neck instantly. Her pupils dilated. Greed, pure and unadulterated, washed over her features.

"Is that... the Wilder heirloom?" she asked, her voice dropping to a whisper.

"It is," I said, fingering the cold stone. "I thought I might wear it to dinner tonight. It feels heavy, though."

"It's magnificent," Bethany breathed. She looked from the necklace to the invitation, connecting the dots in her shallow mind. If she wore this to the gala, she wouldn't just be a guest; she would be a queen. She would outshine everyone, even the birthday girl.

"Let me wear it," she demanded, extending her hand. "For the gala. It matches my eyes better than yours."

I hesitated, feigning reluctance. I pulled the silk collar of my dress tighter. "I don't know, Bethany. This necklace is... very recognizable. My mother said it carries a history. It might attract too much attention."

"Attention is the point, you idiot," she spat. "Give it to me. Unless you want me to tell Jaret how ungrateful you've been lately."

I let out a shaky sigh, unclasping the heavy chain from my neck. The metal felt cool against my fingertips as I handed it over. "Fine. But please... be careful. Don't wear it outside the estate until the gala. A piece this famous... it could be dangerous."

It was the perfect bait. By warning her, I had ensured she would wear it with pride. She snatched the necklace, draping it over her own neck and rushing to the mirror, preening like a peacock unaware of the fox in the room.

"My freedom depends on it," I thought, the silent words echoing in the hollow chamber of my chest.

"I have a headache," I announced, standing up. "I'll be in my room."

Neither of them looked at me. They had what they wanted.

I walked out of the sitting room, my heels clicking softly on the marble floor. But I didn't go to the stairs. Instead, I slipped into the shadows of the hallway, pressing my back against the cool wall just outside the heavy oak door.

I waited.

For a moment, there was only the sound of Bethany giggling. Then, Cathy's voice cut through the air, low and sharp.

"Stop playing with the jewelry, Bethany. Focus."

"But look at it, Mama! It's worth a fortune. Why does she get to keep it?"

"She won't keep it for long," Cathy said, her tone dripping with ice. "Once Jaret secures the engagement with Alexandria Kane, the Wilder fortune will be under our control. Isabella's father is too weak to stop us."

"But what about Isabella?" Bethany asked. "Jaret can't marry two women."

I held my breath, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. This was it. The confirmation of my nightmare.

"He doesn't need to marry her," Cathy replied, her voice matter-of-fact, as if discussing the dinner menu. "Jaret will marry the Kane girl for power. But he'll keep Isabella as his mistress. We'll keep her here, hidden away. She's pretty enough to keep him entertained, and her dowry pays for our debts. It's the best of both worlds. We get the crown, and we keep the gold."

A chill that had nothing to do with the drafty hallway settled into my bones.

*mistress.* The word hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.

In my past life, I had been too blind to see it. I had thought Jaret loved me. I had thought my aunt cared. But they were just vultures circling a dying animal, waiting to pick the bones clean.

They didn't just want to kill me; they wanted to erase me. They wanted to turn me into a ghost in my own life, a secret kept in the dark while they basked in the light of my stolen inheritance.

I stepped away from the door, my movements silent and precise. I didn't need to hear anymore. The sadness that had lingered since I woke up was gone, incinerated by the white-hot flames of rage.

They wanted a mistress? I would give them a monster.

I turned toward the stairs, my hand brushing against the velvet wallpaper. The necklace was in Bethany's hands. The trap was set. And now that I knew the depth of their depravity, I wouldn't hesitate to snap the jaws shut.

*Burn them,* the voice in my head whispered. *Burn them all.*