Augustina changed into a cheap, oversized hoodie the hospital nurses had bought from a discount store.

She walked out of the sliding glass doors of Cedars-Sinai. The midnight Los Angeles wind whipped her damp hair across her face.

A black Lincoln Navigator idled by the curb.

The family driver, Gus Kowalski, stood by the hood. He didn't move to open the door for her. He just chewed his gum and looked away.

Augustina didn't wait. She pulled the heavy door open herself and climbed into the very back row, squeezing into the narrowest seat.

Cindy and Kayleigh were already settled in the spacious, reclining captain's chairs in the second row. The heavy scent of Chanel No. 5 suffocated the air inside the cabin.

The SUV pulled smoothly away from the curb and merged onto the interstate heading toward Bel Air.

The interior was dead silent. The only sound was the low hum of the climate control system.

Cindy couldn't handle the quiet. She turned slightly in her seat, her tone dripping with condescension.

"Your behavior in front of those nurses was appalling," Cindy scolded. "Gulping water down like a refugee. You have no concept of high society etiquette."

Kayleigh reached out and gently patted Cindy's hand.

"Don't be too hard on her, Mom," Kayleigh said, her voice sickeningly sweet. "She just doesn't know any better."

Kayleigh paused, making sure Augustina was listening. "By the way, Mom, I need to go to the Ivy League alumni fitting tomorrow morning. The tailor is flying in from Milan."

It was a blatant display of power. A reminder of the elite resources and status Augustina would never touch.

Augustina leaned her head against the cold glass of the window. She didn't even blink.

She watched the streetlights blur past, her mind already calculating how fast she could liquidate whatever assets she could grab and disappear.

Cindy frowned. Augustina's lack of reaction felt like a direct challenge to her authority.

Cindy twisted her body around to glare at the back row.

"Are you listening to me?" Cindy snapped. "Tomorrow morning, you will stand in the living room and formally apologize to Kayleigh in front of the entire family."

Augustina slowly turned her head.

Her dark eyes locked onto Cindy in the dim light of the cabin.

She kept her voice completely flat, devoid of any emotion.

"No."

Cindy gasped. Her hand flew to her chest. She couldn't believe this girl, who usually craved her approval like a starving dog, had just flat-out refused.

Kayleigh's fingernails dug hard into her own palms. A flicker of genuine panic crossed her face.

In the driver's seat, Gus glanced in the rearview mirror. He shook his head in disgust, assuming this was just another pathetic cry for attention.

Before Cindy could scream, the Navigator took a sharp turn. The tires crunched onto the private driveway of the Bel Air estate.

Massive wrought-iron gates swung open, revealing a sprawling, brightly lit European-style mansion.

The SUV stopped in front of a towering fountain. Two rows of servants stood at attention on the front steps, holding umbrellas.

Gus threw the car into park and rushed out. He opened the doors for Cindy and Kayleigh, holding a large umbrella over their heads to shield them from the drizzle.

Augustina pushed open her own door.

She stepped out. Her foot landed squarely in a deep puddle on the stone pavement.

The freezing water instantly soaked through her cheap canvas shoes, chilling her toes to the bone. She didn't even look down.

A butler rushed forward, handing Kayleigh a warm, thick towel. He completely ignored Augustina, leaving her standing in the rain.

Augustina tilted her head back and stared at the massive structure.

This was the cage that had buried her dignity in her past life.

She took a deep breath of the cold air. Her jaw set. She walked up the pristine white marble steps with heavy, deliberate strides.

Augustina walked into the lavishly decorated living room.

Her soaked canvas shoes left a trail of muddy, wet footprints across the priceless Persian rug.

Her eldest brother, Preston, sat on a French tufted sofa. He lowered his copy of the Wall Street Journal, his eyes narrowing in disgust at the mud on the floor.

Felton sat in the oversized leather armchair at the head of the room. He held a crystal glass of whiskey. His face was dark as a thundercloud.

The moment Cindy stepped into the room, she started shrieking.

"Felton! You won't believe the attitude on her in the car!" Cindy pointed a shaking finger at Augustina. "She refused to apologize!"

Kayleigh squeezed her eyes shut, forcing a few tears to spill over her lashes. She shrank back against the wall, playing the terrified victim flawlessly.

Dustin slammed his hands down on a side table and shot up to his feet.

"Get on your knees right now and apologize to Mom!" Dustin roared, his face turning purple.

Augustina didn't look at him. She walked straight past the sofas, heading directly for the crystal wet bar in the center of the room.

She picked up a heavy Baccarat crystal tumbler and filled it to the brim with ice cubes and cold water.

Preston scoffed. "Look at her. No manners at all. She doesn't even answer when spoken to."

Augustina turned around, holding the freezing glass.

She walked slowly toward the sofa where Kayleigh was pretending to cry.

Everyone watched her, assuming she was just thirsty.

Augustina stopped right in front of Kayleigh. Without a single change in her facial expression, she flipped her wrist.

The entire glass of ice water poured directly over Kayleigh's perfectly styled hair.

Kayleigh let out a blood-curdling scream. The freezing water ruined her makeup, sending black mascara running down her cheeks. The ice cubes bounced off her shoulders and scattered across the rug.

Cindy screamed in horror, covering her mouth with both hands.

Felton slammed his whiskey glass down on the coffee table so hard the liquor splashed out.

"You bitch!" Dustin bellowed.

He charged at Augustina like an enraged bull, pulling his fist back to strike her face.

Augustina's eyes hardened. Her body reacted with the pure, violent instinct she had honed in the slums of The Warrens.

She swiftly pivoted her hips and sidestepped to the left.

Dustin swung at empty air. His momentum carried him forward, and he stumbled, slamming his chest hard against the marble bar. He gasped, the wind knocked out of him, collapsing to the floor in a heap of humiliated rage rather than agony.

Preston jumped up, ready to intervene, but he froze in his tracks.

Augustina had casually picked up a silver letter opener from the bar. She flipped it between her fingers.

The sharp, pointed blade caught the light of the crystal chandelier, gleaming with a cold, lethal threat.

The room fell into a dead, heavy silence. The only sounds were Kayleigh's sobbing and Dustin's pained gasps.

Augustina looked down at them from her position by the bar.

"Don't pretend you care about me," Augustina said, her voice slicing through the room like ice. "I know the maids put moldy food in my room. I know you only brought me back to maintain your pathetic philanthropist image for the board."

Felton's face turned a dangerous shade of red. He realized, in that exact moment, that this girl was completely out of his control.

He stood up, his chest heaving.

"If you want to act like a wild animal," Felton threatened, his voice shaking with rage, "I will cut off your trust fund. I will throw you out on the street tonight."

The corner of Augustina's mouth twitched upward into a mocking smile.

She slammed the silver letter opener down.

Thwack.

The blade sank deep into the expensive mahogany coffee table, vibrating from the force.

Cindy flinched violently, pressing herself into the sofa cushions.

Augustina stared dead into Felton's eyes.

"Exactly what I want," she said, emphasizing every syllable.

She leaned forward. "Draft the papers. I want to sever all legal ties. I don't want to carry the Hogan name for another second."

Felton narrowed his eyes. He stared at her defiant face. Slowly, a dark, malicious smirk spread across his lips.

Felton turned on his heel and walked toward the grand staircase. He jerked his head, signaling Augustina to follow.

Augustina pulled the letter opener from the wood and tossed it aside. She followed him up to the second-floor mahogany study.

The heavy oak doors clicked shut behind them, instantly cutting off the chaotic noise from the living room below.

Felton walked over to his humidor. He pulled out a Cuban cigar and clipped the end, but he didn't light it.

He turned around and looked at Augustina. His eyes scanned her cheap, wet hoodie like he was appraising a piece of damaged livestock.

"The Hogan pharmaceutical company is facing bankruptcy," Felton stated bluntly, dropping the facade of a caring father. "The supply chain is broken. We need a hundred million dollars in capital to complete a merger."

He tossed the cigar onto his desk.

"The investor is the master of Blackwood Manor. The condition for the cash injection is a marriage. He wants a daughter from the Hogan family."

Felton walked closer, his tone dripping with cruelty. "The man was caught in a fire. He's disfigured. He's confined to a wheelchair. Rumor has it his temper is so violent he tortures his staff. He is a monster."

Felton sneered. "I am absolutely not sending Kayleigh into that hellhole. She is meant for better things."

He leaned his hands on the desk. "You want out? Fine. You take Kayleigh's place. You marry him, and I will sign the severance papers."

Augustina stood perfectly still.

When she heard the name Blackwood Manor, her heart slammed violently against her ribs.

Charles Moses.

The man who had kissed her dead forehead. The tyrant who had buried her murderers alive.

She dug her fingernails into her palms to stop her hands from shaking. She forced her face to remain completely blank.

She pretended to hesitate, narrowing her eyes. "I want more."

"I want a public statement in the Times," Augustina demanded. "Declaring that we have severed all adoptive and biological ties. And I want the original, untampered copy of the DNA report Felton Hogan used to identify me. And the fifty dollars cash I had in my pocket when your men dragged me out of The Warrens."

Felton let out a sharp, mocking laugh. He thought she was making a desperate, pathetic attempt to salvage her pride.

"Done," he said.

Felton picked up the phone on his desk and dialed his private lawyer. He ordered the documents drafted immediately.

Thirty minutes later, a sweating lawyer rushed into the study, clutching a leather briefcase. He pulled out the freshly printed contracts.

Augustina picked up a heavy Montblanc pen. She read every single line of the liability waiver and the severance agreement.

Satisfied, she pressed the nib to the paper and signed her name with aggressive, sharp strokes.

Felton signed his portion. He opened a drawer, pulled out a thick manila folder containing the falsified DNA documents along with a crisp fifty-dollar bill, and tossed them onto the desk like garbage.

Augustina snatched the file and the money. She squeezed the paper in her fist. The sharp edges of the folder dug into her palm, the slight pain grounding her in reality.

"If this merger fails because you piss off that monster," Felton warned, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper, "you will die a very ugly death."

Augustina folded her copy of the contract and shoved it into her hoodie pocket. She turned and walked out without another word.

She went straight to her cramped attic room. She pulled a battered black duffel bag from under the narrow bed.

She didn't pack a single item bought by the Hogan family. She only threw in a few worn-out shirts and jeans she had bought herself.

Ten minutes later, she walked down the grand staircase, the duffel bag slung over her shoulder.

Cindy and Kayleigh stood in the foyer. They watched her leave, their faces twisted into identical, triumphant smiles.

Augustina pushed open the heavy front doors. She stepped out into the freezing Los Angeles rain, not looking back once.