The morning light barely pierced the heavy velvet curtains of the first-floor study.

The butler knocked once on Gina.

He pushed the door open and coldly told her to go downstairs.

Gina walked into the study.

The room smelled of old paper and expensive leather.

Arthur Rollins sat behind a massive red oak desk.

His face was a mask of cold, hard stone.

Gustaf stood near the window.

A thick blue ice pack was strapped tightly around his right wrist.

Whenever he looked at Gina, his eyes darted away, filled with a toxic mix of hatred and fear.

Hailie sat on the leather sofa, her arm linked with Edwina.

Hailie wore a soft pink cashmere sweater.

She leaned her head on Edwina.

Arthur did not say good morning.

He pushed a silver iPad Pro across the smooth surface of the desk.

The metal scraped against the wood.

The iPad stopped at the edge, the screen facing Gina.

Arthur pressed his thick finger against the play button.

A video started playing.

The lighting in the video was dark and flashing with neon colors.

It showed a girl who looked exactly like Gina.

The girl was sitting on the lap of a heavily tattooed man at a filthy underground party.

The girl in the video leaned forward and snorted a line of white powder off a glass table.

The camera zoomed in.

The thick, jagged scar on the girl.

It was identical to the one Gina had.

"If you do not smile and play the perfect bride at the press conference tomorrow."

Arthur.

"I will send this video to the New York Times."

Hailie let out a soft, theatrical sigh.

She covered her mouth with her hand.

"It is so sad what those hospitals do to people. She is completely ruined."

Gina stared at the glowing screen.

Her eyes tracked the pixels.

Her brain, trained in the deepest sectors of the dark web, dissected the footage in milliseconds.

The rendering was sloppy.

She did not tremble.

She did not cry.

She reached out and grabbed the heavy leather chair in front of the desk.

She pulled it back.

The wooden legs screeched against the floorboards.

Gina sat down.

She crossed her legs.

She rested her hands on her lap.

Arthur.

His hands slammed down on the desk.

The coffee cups rattled.

"How dare you sit."

Gina ignored his outburst.

She looked directly into Arthur.

"The ambient lighting on the collarbone in frame 402 does not match the strobe effect of the background."

Her voice was flat and steady.

"The facial mapping glitches around the jawline when the subject turns her head past forty-five degrees."

She tilted her head slightly.

"And the shadow under the nose is cast from a light source that does not exist in that room."

The study went dead silent.

Arthur.

His mouth opened slightly, but no words came out.

He stared at the girl in the faded maid.

He could not comprehend how a heavily medicated mental patient knew the technical flaws of a Deepfake video.

Gina leaned forward.

"But the public does not care about rendering flaws."

She tapped her finger against the edge of the desk.

"They only believe the scandals they want to believe."

She sat back.

"I will attend your press conference. I will be the perfect, obedient Rollins daughter."

Arthur.

"But I will not wear this trash."

Gina pinched the cheap fabric of her sleeve.

"I want a custom haute couture gown from Maison Étoile. The current season."

Hailie let out a sharp, high-pitched laugh.

She jumped up from the sofa.

"Are you insane?"

Hailie pointed at Gina.

"Maison Étoile does not sell to just anyone. A-list Hollywood actresses wait six months for a fitting."

Edwina stood up, her face flushed with anger.

"You greedy little rat. You do not deserve a single thread from that brand."

Gina stood up.

She slowly smoothed out the wrinkles on her faded jacket.

She looked at Arthur.

"If I do not have a Maison Étoile gown by tomorrow morning."

Gina smiled. It was a cold, dead smile.

"I will walk onto that stage wearing this exact hospital uniform."

She placed her hands on the desk and leaned closer to Arthur.

"Imagine the headlines. The Rollins family forces their beggar daughter to marry into the Brooks empire."

Gina lowered her voice.

"How many millions will your stock price drop in the first hour?"

Arthur.

His jaw clenched so tight his teeth ground audibly.

He was a man who worshipped money.

He calculated the cost of the PR disaster in his head.

The numbers terrified him.

He glared at Gina with pure venom.

"Alistair."

Arthur barked at his assistant standing by the door.

"Call the Maison Étoile flagship store in Manhattan. Pay whatever rush fee they want. Get the damn dress."

Hailie stomped her foot.

Her face twisted in ugly jealousy.

Arthur shot her a look so vicious it froze her in place.

She turned around.

Before walking away, Gina intentionally let her hand drag across the massive red oak desk. Her fingers brushed the edge, moving with blinding, practiced speed. In a fraction of a second, perfectly shielded by her own body and the distraction of their anger, she swept Arthur's spare smartphone off the corner and into her sleeve.

She walked toward the heavy oak doors.

She did not look back at the angry, defeated faces of her family.

As she reached the door, the cold smile returned to her lips.

She knew something they did not.

She was the absolute, sole owner of Maison Étoile.

As she walked down the carpeted hallway, she slipped her hand into her pocket.

Her fingers wrapped around the spare smartphone she had just stolen from the corner of Arthur.

Without looking at the screen, her thumb rapidly tapped out a heavily encrypted text message.

The heavy doors of the study remained closed.

Alistair, Arthur.

He paced back and forth across the thick rug in the living room.

He held his phone tight against his ear.

Sweat dripped down his forehead.

He nodded rapidly, muttering frantic agreements into the receiver.

He hung up the phone.

He wiped his forehead with a silk handkerchief and walked into the living room.

Arthur, Edwina, and Hailie looked up at him.

Alistair cleared his throat.

His voice shook slightly.

"They agreed."

Alistair looked at Arthur in disbelief.

"Maison Étoile agreed to the rush order. And they waived the emergency fee."

Arthur.

His thick eyebrows shot up toward his hairline.

He leaned back in his leather chair.

That brand was notorious for its extreme arrogance.

They never bent their rules for anyone, not even billionaires.

Edwina clapped her hands together.

She stood up, her face glowing with sudden pride.

"You see?"

Edwina looked at Arthur.

"It is the Rollins name. They know our status in New York. They respect us."

Hailie touched her collarbone.

She bit her lower lip, forcing a shy, sweet smile onto her face.

"Actually, Mother."

Hailie lowered her voice to make it sound modest.

"I played a cello solo at the Lincoln Center last week."

She smoothed the skirt of her Chanel dress.

"The head designer of Maison Étoile liked my photos on Instagram. I think they are doing this for me."

Edwina gasped in delight.

She rushed over and grabbed Hailie.

"Of course. My beautiful, talented girl."

Edwina kissed Hailie.

"When the dress arrives, you must try it on first. We need to take pictures for your social media."

Hailie lifted her chin.

Her chest swelled with vanity.

She imagined Gina standing in the corner, watching her wear the most expensive dress in the world.

At exactly three o'clock, the heavy iron gates of the Rollins estate swung open.

Three massive, black Mercedes-Benz Sprinter vans drove up the private driveway.

The tires crunched loudly against the gravel.

The maids and butlers stopped washing the windows and sweeping the steps.

They stared at the vehicles.

The side doors of the vans slid open simultaneously.

Six assistants stepped out.

They wore immaculate black tailored suits and spotless white cotton gloves.

The last person to step out of the lead van was Adrianne Vega.

She was the Director of North American Operations for Maison Étoile.

She wore a sharp, dark navy smoking suit.

Her black stilettos clicked sharply against the pavement.

Two assistants carefully rolled out a massive, heavy-duty clothing rack.

A thick, black velvet dust cover completely hid the garment hanging on it.

Arthur led his family out onto the grand portico.

He stretched his lips into a wide, fake, corporate smile.

He walked down the steps and extended his right hand toward Adrianne.

Adrianne stopped walking.

She slowly took off her dark sunglasses.

Her eyes swept over Arthur.

She looked at his extended hand.

She did not raise her own.

Arthur.

He awkwardly pulled his hand back and shoved it into his trouser pocket.

He let out a loud, forced laugh.

"Artists. Always so temperamental."

Hailie pushed past her father.

She stepped right in front of Adrianne.

She plastered her sweetest, most innocent smile on her face.

"Ms. Vega, it is such an honor."

Hailie clasped her hands under her chin.

"I am a huge fan of your work. Thank you so much for coming for me."

Adrianne looked down at Hailie.

A microscopic twitch of absolute disgust pulled at the corner of Adrianne.

Adrianne gave a single, robotic nod.

"We require your largest, best-lit fitting room. Immediately."

Adrianne.

Edwina snapped her fingers at the head butler.

"Take them to Hailie."

The assistants pushed the heavy rack up the grand staircase.

They rolled it into the massive, mirror-lined closet on the second floor.

Four tailoring assistants immediately began adjusting the overhead spotlights.

Hailie bounced on her toes.

She followed the rack into the center of the room.

She reached out her hand.

Her fingers moved to grab the heavy brass zipper of the black velvet cover.

An assistant stepped directly into Hailie.

The assistant raised a white-gloved hand, physically blocking Hailie.

"Do not touch the fabric."

The assistant.

"This piece features extremely fragile French embroidery. Only the client may handle it."

Hailie.

The blood rushed to her cheeks, turning them a splotchy, angry red.

She forced a tight smile.

"I am the client. I am here to try it on."

Hailie turned to Adrianne.

Her voice grew sharp and commanding.

"Take it out. Now."

Adrianne opened a thick, gold-embossed leather binder.

She did not look at Hailie.

She looked past the angry girl.

Her eyes locked onto the dark shadows at the far end of the hallway outside the closet.

Adrianne raised her voice.

Her tone shifted from icy professionalism to absolute, unwavering respect.

"Could someone please tell me."

Adrianne.

"Which one of you is Miss Gina Rollins?"

The air inside the massive closet instantly turned to ice.

Hailie froze.

Her hand was still suspended in the air.

The sweet, demanding smile on her face cracked, leaving her mouth hanging open in a grotesque shape.

Edwina shoved past the tailoring assistants.

Her heels dug into the thick carpet.

She marched right up to Adrianne.

"You have made a mistake."

Edwina yelled, her voice echoing off the mirrored walls.

"You have the wrong name."

Adrianne slowly turned the heavy leather binder around.

She held it up so the overhead spotlights hit the page.

Written in flawless, gold-leaf calligraphy across the top of the order form were two words.

Gina Rollins.

"This gown was flown in from Paris three hours ago."

Adrianne.

"It was hand-altered overnight based on the exact measurements we received. It belongs exclusively to Miss Gina."

Hailie felt a physical blow to her chest.

The humiliation burned her throat.

Tears of pure, acidic jealousy welled up in her eyes.

She bit her lip so hard she tasted copper.

She spun around and ran out of the closet, her sobs echoing down the hall.

Edwina.

She glared at the doorway.

Gina stood in the hall, wearing her faded, ill-fitting clothes.

Edwina shot Gina a look of pure murder before chasing after Hailie.

Gina slowly walked into the closet.

The moment she crossed the threshold, Adrianne snapped her fingers.

The four tailoring assistants immediately stepped out into the hallway.

They pulled the heavy double doors shut behind them.

The heavy click of the lock sealed the room.

Adrianne.

Her icy, arrogant posture softened imperceptibly. She stepped forward and crouched slightly, pretending to adjust the hem of Gina's faded pants. She leaned in close, her body acting as a perfect shield from any hidden cameras. Her eyes were red. Her voice was a rapid, hushed whisper that shook with suppressed emotion. "Boss."

Gina reached down.

She gripped Adrianne.

Her eyes lost their dead, vacant stare.

They sharpened into the calculating, lethal gaze of a predator.

"Report."

Gina.

Adrianne stood up.

She grabbed a measuring tape and draped it around Gina.

She began to physically measure Gina, maintaining the cover of a fitting just in case the room was bugged.

She leaned in close.

Her voice was a rapid, hushed whisper.

"The marriage is a fraud."

Adrianne pulled the tape tight across Gina.

"Kerr Brooks is not a tech prodigy looking for a wife. He was in a massive car crash in Silicon Valley two weeks ago."

Adrianne moved to measure Gina.

"He suffered catastrophic trauma. He is in a deep, unresponsive coma. A vegetative state."

Gina did not flinch.

Her breathing remained perfectly steady.

"The Brooks family is hiding it to stop their stock from crashing."

Adrianne.

"They need a wedding to distract the media. Arthur Rollins needs the Brooks cash injection to save his failing company."

Adrianne knelt to measure the hemline.

"Arthur sold you to a dead man because he didn't want Hailie to be a widow."

Gina looked at her own reflection in the three-way mirror.

Her pale face looked like carved marble.

A low, dark chuckle vibrated in her chest.

She reached out and grabbed the brass zipper of the velvet cover.

She pulled it down.

The dress was a masterpiece.

It was midnight blue, the color of a starless sky.

Thousands of microscopic black diamonds were hand-stitched into the bodice.

Gina ran her fingertips over the cold, hard stones.

There was no sadness in her eyes.

Only the thrilling, violent spark of absolute war.

"If they want me to marry a corpse."

Gina whispered to the mirror.

"I will use his empire to bury them all alive."

"Do you want me to mobilize the dark web operatives?"

Adrianne asked, her hands shaking with anger.

"We can destroy the press conference tomorrow."

"No."

Gina dropped her hand from the dress.

"Let them play their game. Track the Brooks family money. Find out where every cent is going."

Fifteen minutes later, the heavy closet doors swung open.

Gina stepped out into the hallway.

The midnight blue gown clung to her body like a second skin.

The black diamonds caught the light, flashing like shattered glass.

She no longer slouched.

Her spine was perfectly straight.

She radiated the suffocating, terrifying aura of a queen stepping onto a battlefield.

Gustaf was walking up the stairs, holding a mug of hot coffee.

He looked up.

He saw Gina.

His jaw went slack.

His fingers lost their grip.

The ceramic mug hit the carpet.

Hot coffee splashed across his expensive shoes.

Gina did not look at him.

She lifted the heavy silk skirt.

She walked down the stairs, her heels clicking in a slow, deadly rhythm.

She looked down into the foyer.

Edwina was still hugging a crying Hailie.

Gina.

"The game begins now."