Chapter 1

The music was too loud.

The scent of a thousand lilies, heavy and sweet, filled the grand ballroom.

My 21st birthday gala.

Again.

My eyes snapped open. I was in my private suite, not the cold, damp alley where they left me to die.

This was the day. The day it all started to unravel.

Last time, Chloe wore my dress.

It was a gown specially commissioned, a fortune in silk and diamonds. My dress.

She floated into the gala in it, my cousin Chloe Vance, the poor relation I' d taken under my wing.

Everyone stared at her. Whispered about her.

I was furious. A spoiled brat, they called me later, when I screamed at her in front of everyone.

That "cruelty," as they termed it, was the seed.

It grew.

After Father, Senator William Thompson, fell ill, a sudden, mysterious illness, Marcus, my older brother, took over.

Ethan Hayes, my charming fiancé, helped him.

They said the Thompson empire needed saving. They made an "alliance" with Apex Global, Viktor Rostova' s predatory company.

It was a trap for me.

They ruined me. Stripped me of everything.

Betrayal. Cold, hard betrayal.

Chloe' s revenge, they said, for that one night, for a stolen dress and a public humiliation.

My breath hitched. The memory was a raw wound.

But this time, I knew.

This time would be different.

I stood up, my legs steady. Calm.

The first thing: my true dress.

The Thompson heirloom gown. Stored in the family vault, not the closet where Chloe would look.

I' d already arranged for it to be brought here, to my suite, hours ago in this new timeline.

It lay on the chaise lounge, shimmering under the soft lights, a river of antique lace and pearls. Historically significant. Untouchable.

A knock on the adjoining door. Chloe' s room.

"Ava? Are you almost ready?" Chloe' s voice, sweet as poisoned honey.

I smiled. "Almost, Chloe."

I knew her plan. She wouldn't find the heirloom.

But she' d try for something else.

I walked to my main closet. My other gowns. One, a vibrant sapphire blue, a recent gift from Father, was missing.

Predictable.

I dressed slowly, carefully, in the heirloom gown. It fit like a second skin, a whisper of power from generations of Thompson women.

Downstairs, the ballroom buzzed.

Chloe was already there, of course.

Performing. She had a decent voice, and she was making the most of it, standing near the orchestra.

She wore my sapphire blue dress. It was striking, yes. She looked good.

But it wasn't the Thompson heirloom.

I waited for her song to end.

Then, I made my entrance.

The music faltered for a beat. Conversations died.

The heirloom gown did its work. It was breathtaking. It spoke of history, of legacy, of undisputed right.

I outshone her. Completely.

I walked towards Chloe, my steps measured.

She paled when she saw me, then saw my gown. Her eyes, for a fleeting second, showed pure, ugly envy.

"Chloe, dear," I said, my voice cool and clear, carrying in the sudden hush. "That' s a lovely blue. It looks almost like the one Father gave me."

Her face tightened. "Ava, I..."

"But you know," I continued, "it' s rather presumptuous to wear another woman' s gown to her own birthday gala. Especially one you took without asking."

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

Chloe' s eyes welled up. "Ava, how can you say that? I wouldn' t! This is... this is just a similar style." She clutched the blue fabric. "You' re being cruel."

Ethan Hayes, my fiancé, rushed to her side.

"Ava, that' s enough!" he said, his handsome face tight with disapproval. He put a protective arm around Chloe.

"She wouldn' t steal from you. You' re being petty. This is your birthday, try to be gracious."

He looked at me like I was dirt.

The same way he looked at me in the before-time, when he signed away my shares.

My hand moved.

Crack.

The sound of my palm connecting with Ethan' s cheek was sharp.

He stared at me, stunned. A red mark bloomed on his skin.

"Don' t you dare," I said, my voice like ice, "tell me how to behave in my own home. And remember your place, Ethan. You are here because of me."