I barely slept that night.

Every time I closed my eyes, I heard Serena's voice.

"I'm bringing my boyfriend."

Then Margaret's answer.

"Is he finally ready to come home?"

Home.

At three in the morning, I was still sitting in front of my laptop.

The accident report remained open on the screen.

I read it again.

The more I read, the more uncomfortable I became.

When Ethan supposedly died, the car had fallen into a ravine and caught fire.

The report repeatedly described severe damage.

Destroyed vehicle.

Destroyed evidence.

Destroyed remains.

But not once did it mention positive identification.

Not once.

No DNA report.

No autopsy.

No photographs.

Nothing.

How had I never noticed?

Simple.

Because I had trusted them.

I had trusted Ethan's mother when she told me seeing his body would only traumatize me.

I had trusted Chloe when she cried in my arms.

I had trusted every document they put in front of me.

Most of all, I had trusted Ethan.

What an idiot.

A knock interrupted my thoughts.

Three sharp taps.

Then Margaret's voice.

"Vivian."

I immediately closed my laptop.

"Yes?"

"Breakfast."

The word sounded more like a command.

"Coming."

By the time I reached the dining room, Margaret and Chloe were already seated.

Neither looked particularly sad for people who had supposedly lost a son and brother.

Actually, they looked excited.

Chloe was scrolling through her phone.

Margaret was reviewing what appeared to be event plans.

The moment I sat down, Chloe spoke.

"You'll need to start preparing for my birthday."

"Okay."

"I want at least two hundred guests."

I nodded.

"Fine."

"A live band."

"Fine."

"A champagne tower."

"Fine."

She glanced up.

"And don't screw it up."

Margaret sipped her coffee.

"Serena is making a special effort to come."

There it was again.

Serena.

Always Serena.

The beloved unofficial daughter.

The woman who somehow mattered more than anyone else.

"She must be excited," I said carefully.

"Oh, she is."

Chloe grinned.

"Especially because she's finally introducing her boyfriend."

I kept my expression neutral.

"What does he do?"

Margaret immediately frowned.

"Why are you asking so many questions?"

I lowered my gaze.

"No reason."

"Then stop."

Interesting.

Very interesting.

I suddenly wanted to know everything.

The more they refused to answer, the more suspicious they became.

After breakfast, Margaret handed me a stack of papers.

"Catering."

I accepted them.

"Flowers."

More papers.

"Guest accommodations."

Another stack.

Then she added casually,

"Don't bother preparing anything for yourself."

I looked up.

"What?"

"You're not attending."

The room became silent.

Even Chloe looked amused.

I blinked.

"I'm not attending the party?"

"Of course not."

Margaret's tone suggested I was stupid for asking.

"It's a private celebration."

I stared at her.

A private celebration.

Being hosted inside a property technically owned by my family's trust.

Paid for using my money.

Organized by me.

But I wasn't invited.

"Why?"

Chloe laughed.

"Because nobody wants a grieving widow at a birthday party."

Margaret nodded.

"It would ruin the atmosphere."

For a second, anger almost escaped.

Then I saw it.

The nervousness.

The way Margaret avoided eye contact.

The way Chloe immediately looked down at her phone.

They didn't want me there.

Not because I was depressing.

Because someone was coming.

Someone they desperately needed to keep away from me.

Someone whose face I wasn't supposed to see.

My pulse quickened.

I smiled.

"Of course."

Margaret relaxed instantly.

Good.

Let her think I believed her.

That afternoon, I started digging.

The house had dozens of rooms.

Most people assumed rich people had privacy.

The truth was the opposite.

Big houses created opportunities.

Too many places to hide things.

Too many places to make mistakes.

Margaret made one that same evening.

She left her bedroom unlocked.

I waited until both women left for a spa appointment.

Then I went upstairs.

My hands trembled as I entered.

For a moment, guilt hit me.

Then I remembered the snake.

The poisoned vitamins.

The laughter.

The guilt vanished.

I started with the obvious places.

Desk drawers.

Jewelry boxes.

Cabinets.

Nothing.

Then I found a locked drawer.

Interesting.

I searched for the key.

Ten minutes later, I found it hidden inside a Bible.

I almost laughed.

Margaret always did enjoy irony.

The drawer opened.

Inside were documents.

Bank statements.

Receipts.

Travel records.

I began taking photos.

One after another.

Then I froze.

A receipt.

Hotel de Crillon.

Paris.

Luxury suite.

Two guests.

I stared at the names.

Serena Brooks.

And beneath it—

Ethan Blackwood.

My vision blurred.

For several seconds, I couldn't breathe.

I looked again.

The name didn't disappear.

Ethan Blackwood.

Not an alias.

Not initials.

Not a nickname.

His full name.

The receipt was dated three weeks ago.

Three weeks.

While I had been arranging flowers for his grave.

He had been drinking champagne in Paris.

With Serena.

My husband.

My dead husband.

Alive.

The confirmation should have shocked me.

Instead, I felt strangely calm.

Like some part of me had already known.

Like my heart had accepted the truth before my mind did.

I photographed everything.

Every page.

Every receipt.

Every hotel charge.

Every luxury purchase.

Then I found something even worse.

A jewelry receipt.

Diamond necklace.

Two hundred thousand dollars.

Purchaser:

Ethan Blackwood.

Recipient:

Serena Brooks.

I laughed.

Actually laughed.

A broken little sound.

Because one year ago, Ethan told me we couldn't afford fertility treatment after the miscarriage.

Meanwhile, he was buying diamonds for his mistress.

My phone vibrated.

I jumped.

An unknown number.

For a second I hesitated.

Then I answered.

"Hello?"

Silence.

Then a man's voice.

Deep.

Familiar.

"Vivian?"

My heart stopped.

I knew that voice.

I hadn't heard it in years.

Not since my father's funeral.

"Lucas?"

A pause.

Then he sighed.

"You finally called."

Tears suddenly burned behind my eyes.

Not because I was sad.

Because for the first time in a year, someone sounded worried about me.

Not guilty.

Not demanding.

Not manipulative.

Just worried.

"I need help," I whispered.

Lucas became very quiet.

"What's wrong?"

I looked at the documents spread across Margaret's bed.

The hotel receipts.

The purchases.

The proof.

Then I whispered the words I never imagined saying.

"I think Ethan is alive."

The silence on the other end lasted several seconds.

Finally, Lucas spoke.

His voice had turned cold.

Dangerously cold.

"Don't touch anything."

"What?"

"Take pictures."

"I already did."

"Good."

More silence.

Then—

"I'm coming to get you."

I closed my eyes.

For the first time in a year, I didn't feel alone.

Downstairs, the front door opened.

Margaret and Chloe had returned.

I quickly hid the documents and slipped out of the bedroom.

Neither woman noticed.

Neither realized their secret was already falling apart.

Neither realized I knew.

And neither realized that after one year of being their victim—

I had finally found my first weapon.

Lucas arrived the next morning.

Not in a few days.

Not after checking his schedule.

Not after sending lawyers.

The next morning.

I was standing in the kitchen making coffee when the front door opened.

Margaret immediately stood up.

"What are you doing here?"

A familiar voice answered.

"I came to see Vivian."

My hand froze.

For a second I thought I was imagining things.

Then Lucas Hale walked into the room.

Tall.

Expensive suit.

Cold expression.

Exactly as I remembered.

And yet completely different.

The last time I saw him was at my father's funeral.

A year ago.

Back when I still believed my life couldn't get worse.

Apparently I was wrong.

Margaret crossed her arms.

"This isn't a good time."

Lucas looked at her.

"What happened to her?"

The question caught everyone off guard.

Margaret frowned.

"What?"

Lucas pointed at me.

"What happened to her?"

Silence.

I looked down at my coffee.

Margaret laughed awkwardly.

"She's grieving."

Lucas didn't laugh.

"Grief doesn't explain losing thirty pounds."

The room became quiet.

Very quiet.

Even Chloe looked uncomfortable.

Lucas took another look at me.

His expression darkened.

"When was the last time you saw a doctor?"

I opened my mouth.

Margaret answered first.

"She's fine."

Lucas looked at her.

"I wasn't asking you."

For some reason, that made me want to cry.

Not because he was rude.

Because nobody had asked how I was doing in over a year.

Not really.

Lucas looked back at me.

"Vivian."

I swallowed.

"Maybe six months."

His jaw tightened.

"We're leaving."

Margaret immediately stood.

"Excuse me?"

Lucas didn't even look at her.

"We're leaving."

"No."

Margaret's voice sharpened.

"She's staying here."

Lucas finally turned.

The room suddenly felt colder.

"You don't get a vote."

Margaret's face reddened.

"She's family."

Lucas laughed.

A cold laugh.

"The Montgomery family would disagree."

Chloe slammed her phone onto the table.

"You can't just take her."

Lucas looked at her.

"Watch me."

I almost smiled.

Almost.

________________

Twenty minutes later I was sitting in Lucas's car.

Neither of us spoke.

The city passed outside the window.

Finally Lucas broke the silence.

"You should've called me sooner."

I stared straight ahead.

"I know."

"No."

His voice softened.

"You don't."

I frowned.

"What does that mean?"

Lucas sighed.

"It means your father would've killed me if he saw you living like that."

My chest tightened.

Dad.

Nobody talked about him anymore.

Not after Ethan died.

Not after I became useful to Margaret.

Lucas kept driving.

"Did they always treat you like this?"

I laughed quietly.

"No."

"When did it start?"

I looked out the window.

"The funeral."

His hands tightened on the steering wheel.

"I see."

Neither of us spoke after that.

Because we both knew what it meant.

The moment Ethan died—

I stopped being family.

I became labor.

Money.

A servant.

A resource.

________________

The clinic looked expensive.

Which meant Lucas probably owned it.

"Do you own this place?"

"Part of it."

Of course.

I rolled my eyes.

Lucas smirked.

"There she is."

"What?"

"You rolled your eyes."

"I do that."

"You used to do it every time your father and I gave you advice."

Despite everything, I laughed.

A real laugh.

The first one in months.

Lucas stared at me for a second.

Then looked away.

Strangely uncomfortable.

________________

Three hours later the doctor entered.

He didn't look happy.

Lucas immediately stood.

"What is it?"

The doctor opened a file.

"Mrs. Blackwood."

I suddenly didn't like the sound of that.

"We found several abnormalities."

Lucas folded his arms.

"What kind?"

The doctor hesitated.

Then answered.

"There are traces of long-term exposure to harmful substances."

The room became silent.

I blinked.

"I'm sorry?"

The doctor repeated himself.

Slower.

Carefully.

"As far as we can tell, someone has been administering small amounts over an extended period."

My brain stopped working.

Lucas spoke first.

"Poison."

The doctor nodded.

"Essentially."

No one moved.

No one spoke.

Finally I laughed.

A strange little laugh.

Because suddenly everything made sense.

The exhaustion.

The headaches.

The dizziness.

The memory problems.

Margaret's vitamins.

Margaret's tea.

Margaret's supplements.

"Oh."

The word came out tiny.

Very tiny.

Lucas sat down beside me.

"Vivian."

I stared at the floor.

"Oh."

The doctor continued talking.

I didn't hear most of it.

Until one sentence.

"Based on the levels, this has likely been happening for around eleven months."

Eleven months.

Almost exactly since Ethan died.

Or pretended to die.

Lucas went completely silent.

Which somehow scared me more than yelling.

Because I remembered my father once saying:

"When Lucas gets quiet, somebody's about to have a very bad day."

________________

That evening I sat in Lucas's office.

A blanket over my shoulders.

A cup of tea in my hands.

His assistant had brought both.

Without being asked.

Apparently everyone here treated me better than my own family.

Lucas stood by the window talking on the phone.

"No."

Pause.

"I want every financial record."

Pause.

"Every account."

Pause.

"No exceptions."

Another pause.

Then:

"Find Ethan Blackwood."

He ended the call.

I looked up.

"You're really doing this."

Lucas stared at me.

"Of course I am."

"Why?"

The question slipped out before I could stop it.

For a second he looked surprised.

Then offended.

Actually offended.

"Why?"

I nodded.

"Yeah."

Lucas laughed.

Not happily.

More like he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Vivian."

"What?"

"Your father would've come for me personally if I ignored that message."

I smiled despite myself.

That sounded like Dad.

Lucas walked over.

Then sat across from me.

"You know what the last thing he asked me was?"

My smile disappeared.

"No."

Lucas looked down at his coffee.

Then quietly answered.

"He asked me to look after you."

Something inside my chest cracked.

Just a little.

Not enough to break.

Just enough to hurt.

Lucas looked back at me.

"And I should've done a better job."

For a moment neither of us spoke.

Then my phone buzzed.

Unknown number.

I frowned.

Lucas frowned too.

I answered.

"Hello?"

For a moment, there was only silence.

Then a woman's laugh.

Soft.

Familiar.

My entire body stiffened.

"Vivian."

I immediately recognized the voice.

Serena.

My grip tightened around the phone.

Across the room, Lucas noticed my expression.

His smile disappeared.

"What happened?" he asked quietly.

I ignored him.

"Serena."

She laughed again.

"I'm glad you still recognize me."

"What do you want?"

"That's a rude way to greet an old friend."

Friend.

The word almost made me sick.

I stood from my chair and walked toward the window.

"I asked what you want."

Another laugh.

Then:

"I just wanted to thank you."

I frowned.

"For what?"

"Oh, come on."

Her voice turned sweeter.

Mockingly sweet.

"You've been taking such good care of Margaret and Chloe."

My stomach dropped.

Serena continued.

"You've done so much for Ethan's family."

Silence.

Then she added softly,

"He always said you were reliable."

The room suddenly felt colder.

Lucas was watching me now.

Carefully.

Trying to understand what was happening.

I forced myself to stay calm.

"What are you really calling about?"

For the first time, Serena stopped pretending.

Her voice lowered.

Dangerous.

Satisfied.

"I hope you're not planning to attend Chloe's birthday party."

My pulse quickened.

"Why?"

A pause.

Then:

"Because some surprises are better left undiscovered."

The line went silent for a second.

Just long enough.

Just long enough for me to hear a man's laugh in the background.

Deep.

Familiar.

My heart stopped.

No.

Not possible.

Then Serena laughed.

"See you soon, Vivian."

The call disconnected.

I stared at the phone.

My hands trembling.

Across the room, Lucas stood.

"What happened?"

I slowly lowered the phone.

Then whispered,

"I heard Ethan's laugh."

The expression on Lucas's face instantly turned cold.

Dangerously cold.

And somehow—

the game had just changed.