A black Maybach screeched to a halt outside the wrought-iron gates of the Luna estate.

Julius Hansen emerged from the car. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored suit that seemed like armor, his face a cold mask of indifference. But his eyes burned with a focused, predatory light. He was a man on a mission.

He strode toward the gates, his bodyguards flanking him. The estate security guards moved to block his path, but Julius's men took a single, synchronized step forward. They said nothing, but their sheer size and the cold, professional stillness in their eyes was a threat more potent than any weapon. The Luna guards hesitated, faltering under the palpable intimidation.

Candice was waiting for him on the manicured lawn. She had seen the car coming. Her hands were ice-cold, but she forced her spine to remain perfectly straight.

Their eyes met through the bars of the gate. The air crackled with a tension that was years in the making-or years in the future.

"Well, Candice," Julius said, his voice laced with mocking amusement. "Are you done with the theatrics? Tearing up contracts, calling reporters. Is this your new strategy to get my attention?"

His face. The face that had haunted her dreams. The face she had once loved and now loathed with every fiber of her being.

"This is my property, Julius," she said, her voice shaking slightly despite her best efforts. "You're not welcome here."

He laughed, a short, sharp sound. "Oh, don't play coy. I know how this works. The more you push me away, the more you think I'll want you. It's a bold move, I'll give you that."

The sheer arrogance of his words, the complete misreading of the situation, was so absurd it was almost breathtaking.

He pulled a new, even thicker contract from his briefcase and slid it through the bars of the gate. It landed on the grass at her feet. "Sign it. And I'll pretend today's little outburst never happened."

Candice looked down at the document. It was her past, her future, her family's ruin, all bound in a neat leather folder.

She looked back up at him, and all the fear was gone, replaced by a profound, bottomless contempt. "You really believe the entire world revolves around you, don't you?"

Julius's smile faltered. He narrowed his eyes. No one spoke to him like that. Especially not her.

He decided to go for the kill. "Let me be perfectly clear. The only woman I care about is Amina Rowe. She is my soulmate. You are a business arrangement. A beautiful, empty shell. Nothing more."

Amina's name. It was a knife, just as he'd intended. He expected tears, rage, jealousy.

Instead, Candice smiled. It was a brittle, chilling thing. "Then I'm happy for you. Now take your soulmate and get the hell out of my sight."

Julius stared at her, genuinely thrown. This wasn't in the script. In his memory, the mere mention of Amina sent Candice into a spiral of insecurity. Her jealousy had been one of his primary torments. This... this was a dismissal.

His mind raced, trying to process the new data. It's a trick, he concluded. A higher level of psychological warfare. She's trying to make me feel guilty by pretending she doesn't care.

"A clever tactic," he snarled, gripping the iron bars. "But it won't work. I see right through you."

Candice had heard enough. She turned her back on him. "Keep a close watch on the gate." she said to her head of security. "If he tries to force his way in, call the police and report him for trespassing."

The security chief hesitated for a second, then nodded and signaled his men.

Julius's bodyguards moved forward, but Candice's team stood their ground. The two groups faced off, a silent, tense standoff.

"You'll regret this, Candice!" Julius yelled at her retreating back. "I will make you crawl. I will make you beg me to sign those papers!"

She didn't look back.

Julius stood there, his face a thundercloud. He had never felt so out of control, so thoroughly wrong-footed by this woman.

He stalked back to his car and slammed the door. He punched the leather seat, a muffled thud of pure frustration.

He pulled out his phone and dialed his lawyer.

"Forget the contracts for now," he commanded, his voice dangerously low. "Initiate Plan B. I want you to start shorting Luna Group stock. Immediately. We're going to war."

Inside the estate, once she was out of his line of sight, Candice leaned against the cool stone of a garden wall and slid to the ground. Her entire body was shaking. The confrontation had taken everything she had.

The study was thick with tension. Silas Luna paced back and forth on the expensive Persian rug, his face etched with anxiety.

"What were you thinking, Candice?" he demanded, his voice tight. "To provoke him like that? You've just thrown gasoline on a fire!"

"He was already holding the match, Dad," she shot back, her voice raw. "Hansen Industries was never going to be our partner. They're predators."

"Business is full of predators!" Silas argued, his voice rising. "You don't spit in their eye, you negotiate! You find a way to survive!"

They were shouting now, the raw fear and pressure of the last twenty-four hours finally boiling over. Candice saw the exhaustion on her father's face, the deep lines of worry that hadn't been there in her first life, not yet. He was a good man, a brilliant inventor, but he was out of his depth in this world of corporate sharks.

She took a deep breath, forcing the anger down. "Give me one week," she said, her voice suddenly calm and steady. "One week, and I will bring you proof that Hansen's hedge fund is actively short-selling our stock. I'll prove it's a coordinated attack."

Silas stopped pacing. He looked at his daughter, at the unwavering conviction in her eyes. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "One week, Candice. That's all I can give you."

She retreated to her room, the weight of that promise settling on her shoulders. She collapsed onto her bed, emotionally and physically drained.

Her phone buzzed, startling her. It was her best friend, Etta Hester.

"You are not going to believe this," Etta's voice chirped, loud and cheerful over the sound of cheering crowds and thundering hooves. "I'm at the charity polo match in the Hamptons, and you need to get out here. Right now."

"Etta, I can't," Candice mumbled into her pillow. "I'm not exactly in a party mood."

"This isn't about the party," Etta's voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "I have some gossip about the Hansens. Big gossip. You'll want to hear this in person."

The name was a jolt of electricity. Any information, any intel on Julius's next move, was critical.

"I'm on my way," Candice said, already swinging her legs off the bed.

An hour later, she was stepping onto the pristine green lawns of the Hamptons Polo Club. The sun was bright, the champagne was flowing, and the air was filled with the easy laughter of the ultra-rich.

Candice slid on a pair of oversized sunglasses, feeling a dozen pairs of eyes on her. The news of her confrontation with Julius must already be making the rounds.

Etta, a vibrant splash of color in a floral dress, ran over and threw her arms around her. "You look like hell, but in a chic, powerful way," she declared, pulling back to assess her. "I heard you kicked Julius to the curb. Is it true?"

Candice managed a weak smile. "Where's this information you have for me?"

Etta grinned. "Patience, my dear. First, champagne." She led Candice toward the VIP tent.

From the sidelines, Candice saw a familiar figure in white riding breeches, preparing to mount a sleek, brown stallion. Preston Hester.

He caught her eye and a broad, handsome smile lit up his face. He tipped his riding helmet to her in a gesture of greeting.

Candice's stomach tightened. She gave a curt nod and quickly looked away.

"Oh, stop it," Etta teased, nudging her. "My brother has been asking about you nonstop since your accident. Just give the guy a chance."

"He's not my type," Candice said firmly. "And I'm not looking for anything right now."

"His type is 'rich and breathing,' and you're both," Etta quipped, but she saw the hard set of Candice's jaw and dropped it.

The starting whistle blew, and the match began. Horses thundered across the field, mallets cracking against the ball. Preston was a skilled rider, moving with a fluid grace that drew cheers from the crowd.

Etta leaned in close, her voice a low murmur against the noise. "Okay, here's the scoop. Julius Hansen was supposed to play today. He cancelled at the last minute. My dad's source on his security team said he's been locked in his trading room since this morning, screaming at his analysts."

Candice's blood ran cold.

It had already begun. The financial assault was underway. And she was running out of time.

Etta pressed a flute of champagne into Candice's hand. "So, spill. Are you and the Ice King of Wall Street really over?"

Candice took a sip, the bubbles fizzing on her tongue. "We were never 'on,' Etta. It was a business deal. And now, the deal is off. Permanently."

Etta's perfectly sculpted eyebrows shot up. "Seriously? But the whole city has a betting pool on your wedding date."

"Let them lose their money," Candice said, setting the glass down. "My life isn't a wager."

Etta leaned in again, her eyes sparkling with fresh gossip. "Is it because of that 'soulmate' of his? Amina Rowe?"

The name made Candice's hand clench. The image of Amina's smug face was seared into her memory.

Seeing her friend's reaction, Etta rushed to comfort her. "Oh, honey, don't worry about her. She's just some political advisor. The Hansens would never let a social-climbing nobody like that into the family."

Candice let out a bitter, silent laugh. If only you knew.

"Where did you hear about her?" Candice asked, forcing a casual tone. She needed to know how far along their timeline was.

"My father mentioned her," Etta said, waving a dismissive hand. "She's working for some senator, apparently. Been seen at a few galas with Julius. Probably just using him for his connections."

The pieces were clicking into place. It was all happening again, just as she remembered.

The horn sounded, signaling the end of the first half of the match. Preston trotted his horse over to the sidelines, his face flushed and beaded with sweat. He dismounted, his eyes immediately finding Candice.

He strode toward them, his riding boots sinking slightly into the soft turf. "Candice. I'm glad you could make it." He handed her a spare polo mallet. "Care to take a swing?"

Before she could refuse, Etta was pushing her forward. "Go on! It's fun!"

Trapped, Candice took the mallet and walked stiffly to the practice area. Preston came up behind her, placing his hands over hers on the shaft of the mallet to guide her swing.

"Keep your arms straight," he murmured, his voice close to her ear. His body was pressed against her back, warm and solid.

The proximity was suffocating. It felt like a cage closing around her. The memory of his possessiveness, his anger when she couldn't return his feelings, made her skin crawl.

She wrenched herself away from him. "Don't touch me."

The movement was so abrupt she stumbled, nearly losing her balance.

Preston looked stunned, his hands frozen in mid-air. "I was just trying to help."

"I don't need your help," she snapped, her voice colder than she intended.

The hurt in his eyes was plain to see. He looked from her to his sister, embarrassed and confused. Etta rushed over, shooting Candice a look. "What is wrong with you?" she whispered, pulling her friend away.

Candice watched Preston walk away, his shoulders slumped. A pang of guilt hit her, but she pushed it down. It was better this way. A clean break. No misunderstandings.

She needed some air. "I'm just going to get some water," she told Etta, and walked away from the crowds, toward the relative quiet of the stables.

The smell of hay and horses was calming. She leaned against a white fence, finally able to breathe.

She was standing near a magnificent black stallion, tethered to a post. As she watched, a stable hand accidentally dropped a metal bucket nearby. The loud clang startled the horse.

It reared up, its eyes wide with panic, front hooves flailing in the air. It let out a terrified whinny and, in its frenzy, its powerful body swung around, directly toward her.