Chapter 1

The champagne flute felt cold in my hand, a stark contrast to the stuffy heat of the ballroom. Hundreds of Washington D.C.'s elite buzzed around me, their laughter and chatter a dull roar. This was my engagement party to Senator Ethan Prescott, the golden boy, the rising star. In my first life, this night, or one very like it, had been a triumph. Tonight, it was a countdown.

A chill, colder than the champagne, snaked up my spine. It was the memory, sharp and brutal, of my first life. Ethan' s handsome face, twisted with contempt. Isabella "Izzy" Vance, his mistress, smirking as they orchestrated my ruin. The faked scandal, the drugs they must have used, my career shattered, my life ending in a lonely, hushed-up "accident."

They thought I was a pawn. They thought I was weak.

This time, Ava Carter was no one's pawn. This time, I knew their game. My heart, or what passed for it now, was a block of ice. My only goal: dismantle them, their corruption, and rise so high no one could touch me. Second only to one.

The murmur of the crowd shifted, a ripple of surprise spreading from the grand entrance.

I didn't need to turn. I knew.

Isabella Vance glided in, a vision in pale silk that did nothing to hide the pronounced swell of her belly. Her eyes, wide and artfully innocent, scanned the room before landing on Ethan, then me. The cameras, ever-present, flashed like a sudden storm.

"Ethan," Izzy's voice, trembling but carrying, cut through the sudden hush. "Darling."

She drifted closer, a hand protectively on her stomach.

"I'm so sorry, Ava. I truly am. But I can't keep this a secret any longer."

She looked directly at Ethan, her voice breaking beautifully.

"Ethan, it's yours. This baby is yours."

Chaos erupted. Gasps, whispers, the frantic clicking of cameras. Ethan looked poleaxed, his charming smile frozen, then crumbling. His eyes darted to me, a flicker of the old panic I remembered so well. Good.

In my first life, I would have been hysterical, broken. Now, I felt a cold, clear calm. This was the moment. The first move in a very different game.

I placed my champagne flute on a passing waiter's tray. I straightened my shoulders. The noise seemed to dim as I focused.

"Ethan," I said, my voice even, carrying over the din.

He flinched, turning to me, a desperate, pleading look in his eyes.

"Ava, I can explain. This is... this is a misunderstanding."

"Is it?" I asked, my tone devoid of heat, only a chilling finality.

I looked at Izzy, then back at Ethan, then out at the shocked faces, the hungry press.

"Senator Prescott," I announced, my voice ringing with absolute clarity. "Our engagement is over."

A collective gasp. Ethan stared, mouth agape. Izzy' s perfectly crafted victimhood faltered for a split second, a flash of surprise in her eyes before the tears welled up again.

"I wish you both," I said, my gaze sweeping over them, cold and dismissive, "the very best with your... situation."

Then, I turned my back on them, on the life I had already lost once, and walked away from the wreckage, every step measured, every beat of my frozen heart dedicated to what came next. The real game was just beginning.