Elba stood in the shadows of the second-floor balcony. She leaned against a thick Roman column, holding a small plate of cake, watching the crowded ballroom below.

The heavy glass door to the balcony suddenly pushed open.

A man walked in. He held a whiskey glass. His eyes were bloodshot and his gaze was sleazy. It was Zev Kagan.

Zev spotted Elba in the corner. A disgusting smirk spread across his face. He walked straight toward her.

Elba dropped her fork onto the plate. She took a step back, her back hitting the cold stone railing. She glared at him.

Zev stopped inches away. "Well, well. If it isn't the Potter family's discarded trash. Why are you hiding up here all alone?"

He reached out, trying to stroke her cheek.

Elba slapped his hand away hard.

Who is this pig? she thought, her stomach churning with disgust. He looks like a swollen dumpling. Don't touch me!

Down on the first floor, Angelo was pushing through the crowd. Elba's voice exploded in his head.

He whipped his head up toward the second-floor balcony. He shoved past a group of businessmen and sprinted up the grand staircase.

On the balcony, Zev's face turned red with anger. He stepped forward, trapping Elba against the railing.

"Playing hard to get?" Zev sneered. "You're nothing now. Sleep with me tonight, and I'll give you some pocket change."

Elba's heart pounded against her ribs. She stared at his face, her brain digging through her past life's memories.

Suddenly, a newspaper clipping flashed in her mind.

Holy shit! she screamed internally. I remember! This is Zev Kagan! The psycho who beats Kacey until her internal organs rupture!

Angelo was running down the second-floor hallway. When he heard those words, the last thread of his sanity snapped. Pure, unadulterated killing intent flooded his veins.

Zev reached out, his thick fingers grabbing the delicate strap of Elba's gown.

Before he could pull it, a deafening crash shattered the night.

Angelo didn't slow down. He slammed his broad shoulder into the heavy glass door, forcing the metal lock to break with a deafening crack. The door flew open, hitting the stone wall with a massive crash.

He charged through the frame like a demon. He grabbed the back of Zev's collar and yanked him backward with brutal force.

Zev flew back. Before he could process what was happening, Angelo's fist slammed into his face.

The sound of breaking bone echoed on the balcony. Blood sprayed from Zev's nose. He screamed, crashing into a cocktail table and collapsing onto the floor.

Angelo didn't stop. He stepped forward and planted his expensive leather shoe hard onto Zev's chest, pinning him down. He stared down at the bleeding man with eyes completely devoid of mercy.

Elba pressed herself against the railing, her chest heaving.

He's a beast! she thought in shock. Wait, how did he know I was up here?

Angelo took a deep, ragged breath, forcing his heart rate to slow. He looked over at Elba, his eyes scanning her body to make sure she was untouched.

He looked back down at Zev. "Touch her again, and you lose the hand."

Walter and two security guards rushed onto the balcony, crunching over the broken glass. They gasped at the bloody scene.

Angelo pointed at the groaning Zev. He looked at Walter. "This is the man you chose for Kacey? Cancel the engagement. Immediately."

Walter stared at Zev's bloody face. He didn't ask questions. He trusted Angelo completely. He nodded sharply.

Angelo waved a hand. "Throw him out."

The guards dragged Zev away by his arms.

Angelo walked over to Elba. He took off his suit jacket again and wrapped it around her trembling shoulders.

Elba looked up at him. Her eyes grew hot with unshed tears. Her chest felt tight, but this time, it wasn't from fear.

He's a beast... a terrifying beast, she thought softly, her mind still reeling. But... he aimed all that violence at someone else, just for me. My chest is tight, but for the first time, it's not from fear of him. Being protected... it feels... strangely safe.

The anger drained out of Angelo's body the second he heard her soft thought. He reached out, pulling her firmly into his chest.

"I caught you," he whispered into her hair. "Don't run away again."

Angelo kept his arm wrapped tightly around Elba's shoulders as they descended the curved staircase. They walked back into the main ballroom, instantly drawing every eye in the room.

In the center of the crowd stood Georgina. She wore a pure white lace haute couture gown. When she saw Angelo holding Elba, a flash of pure venom crossed her eyes.

She blinked rapidly. The venom vanished, replaced instantly by a pathetic, fragile expression. She walked toward the bottom of the stairs.

As they reached the final step, Georgina raised her voice just enough for the surrounding guests to hear. Her voice trembled with fake tears. "Angelo... you finally made it."

Elba felt a full-body shudder of disgust.

Here we go, Elba thought. The white lotus is starting her performance!

Angelo stopped. His face was a mask of cold stone. He stared at Georgina without saying a word.

Georgina acted as if she didn't notice his freezing glare. She took a step forward and reached out, trying to loop her arm through his free one.

Angelo shifted his weight. He smoothly stepped sideways, leaving her hand hanging awkwardly in the empty air.

Georgina's eyes instantly welled up with real tears of embarrassment. She quickly pivoted to Elba, her voice dropping to a pitiful whisper. "Elba... are you feeling better? I wanted to visit you at the hospital so badly, but..."

She let the sentence hang, looking down at the floor, letting the guests assume Elba had banned her from visiting.

Elba rolled her eyes so hard they hurt.

But my ass! she yelled in her head. Angelo grounded you, you manipulative snake! Stop playing the victim!

A flicker of dark amusement crossed Angelo's eyes. He stayed perfectly still, waiting to see what the liar would do next.

Seeing that neither of them was reacting, Georgina went for the kill. She let out a sudden, sharp gasp. Her ankle buckled inward, and she threw her body weight directly toward Elba.

Here it comes! The classic fake fall! Elba's mind raced. In the script I saw during my coma, this is where I instinctively push her, she falls, and I become the vicious bully in front of everyone. I absolutely cannot touch her!

Elba threw her hands up in the air, palms facing out, and jumped backward a full yard.

Georgina hadn't expected Elba to move so fast. With nothing to catch her, her center of gravity completely failed. She plummeted toward the hard marble floor.

In that split second, Angelo didn't reach out to catch his "sister." Instead, he grabbed Elba's waist and pulled her another step back, completely clearing the drop zone.

Smack.

Georgina hit the marble floor hard. Her champagne glass shattered, splashing sticky yellow liquid all over her pristine white lace dress.

The ballroom went dead silent. The music seemed to stop. Everyone stared in absolute shock. Angelo Potter had just watched his sister fall and actively moved away.

Georgina pushed herself up onto her elbows. Her knees throbbed with real pain. She looked up at Angelo, tears streaming down her face. "Brother... why didn't you..."

Angelo looked down at her. His voice was cold enough to freeze blood. "If you can't even stand on your own two feet, don't come out and embarrass the Potter family."

The words hit Georgina like a physical slap across the face. Her carefully crafted image of elegance shattered into pieces.

Elba bit her lip so hard she tasted copper, desperately trying not to laugh out loud.

Yes! she cheered internally. Her face is literally green right now!

Angelo heard her laughter in his mind. The ice in his eyes melted slightly.

He reached down and grabbed Elba's hand, lacing his fingers through hers. He turned his body to face the crowd of staring socialites and businessmen.

His voice boomed through the silent room. "Elba is, and always will be, the eldest daughter of the Potter family. She is the only sister I protect. Anyone who disrespects her, makes an enemy of me."

The crowd gasped. The social hierarchy of New York just flipped upside down.

Georgina sat on the floor, digging her manicured nails so hard into her palms that they bled. She ground her teeth together in pure hatred.

Angelo didn't spare her a second glance. He pulled Elba forward, walking out of the ballroom under the terrified, respectful gaze of the entire city.

Georgina sat humiliated on the cold marble floor. The whispers of the guests felt like needles piercing her skin.

She knew she couldn't throw a tantrum. She had to maintain the victim persona. She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing more tears to fall, and placed her hands on the floor, pretending she was too weak to stand.

A pale, long-fingered hand appeared in her line of sight, holding a crisp white handkerchief.

Georgina looked up. A young man with slightly curly, shoulder-length hair and melancholic eyes was looking down at her with deep sympathy.

It was Arturo Veil. The rising indie film director known for his dark, psychological movies about broken people.

Georgina recognized him instantly. A sharp, calculating light flashed behind her tears.

She reached out with a trembling hand, took the handkerchief, and let him gently pull her to her feet. "Thank you, Mr. Veil," she whispered, her voice breaking perfectly.

Arturo looked at her stained white dress and her red, tear-filled eyes. His artistic savior complex flared to life.

"In this fake circle, the kindest people are always the ones who get hurt," Arturo said softly.

Georgina offered a bitter, tragic smile and looked down. "It's fine. As long as my sister's anger is appeased, my suffering doesn't matter."

Arturo felt a surge of disgust toward Elba, the arrogant heiress, and a strong protective urge toward Georgina. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a matte black business card.

"If you ever want to escape this toxic environment," Arturo said, "I have a role in my next film that is perfect for you. Call me."

Georgina gripped the card like a lifeline. She bowed her head in thanks, but inside, she was screaming with triumph. Hollywood resources secured.

Outside, the black Maybach glided smoothly through the neon-lit streets of Manhattan.

In the backseat, Elba had kicked off her high heels. She curled her legs up onto the leather seat, completely abandoning her posture.

Angelo sat beside her. He watched her relaxed form, a faint, genuine smile touching his lips.

Elba stared out the window at the passing lights.

He was so cool back there! she thought, still riding the high. That line about not being able to stand up? Absolute perfection!

Angelo's ears grew slightly warm. He brought a fist to his mouth and coughed softly to hide his reaction.

Elba turned her head. She looked at his sharp jawline. A sudden wave of anxiety hit her stomach.

But... he defended me so publicly, she worried internally. That's going to piss off the corporate syndicate backing Georgina.

Angelo's eyes narrowed instantly. Corporate syndicate?

Tomorrow morning, that old fox Dax Mencher is going to launch his attack, Elba continued in her mind. Angelo's trust fund hasn't been activated yet. How is he going to fight back without that capital?

Angelo's heart pounded. Dax Mencher. The Potter Group's biggest rival. He was attacking tomorrow?

Angelo immediately reached into the seat pocket and pulled out his encrypted tablet. He opened the corporate calendar and the live stock market feeds, his eyes scanning the data rapidly.

Elba watched him suddenly start working. She assumed she was distracting him. She quietly slid further into her corner and closed her eyes.

Whatever, she sighed in her mind. I'll just take it one day at a time. If the company goes bankrupt, I'll just go wash dishes at a diner to support him.

Angelo's finger froze over the glass screen.

Wash dishes to support him.

A strange, intense heat bloomed in the center of his chest. He turned his head. Elba was already half-asleep, her breathing evening out.

He picked up his suit jacket from the seat and draped it gently over her body.

He looked back at the tablet, his jaw setting into a hard line. No one is touching the Potter Group. And you will never wash a single dish.

The Maybach descended into the underground garage. The war was starting at dawn.