Cory stared at his two younger sisters standing before him, his chest tightening with indecision.

Kaylee stood there in silence, waiting for him to say something.

He now held the position of head of Harris Group. He wasn't outright cruel toward Kaylee, yet he wavered far too easily, forever dancing to Joyce's tune.

Now that proof had been laid out, even if he chose not to immediately take her word for it and punish Joyce on the spot, even if he only sent someone to verify her story, Kaylee was prepared to give him one more opportunity.

Joyce was already on edge, yet she kept dabbing at her tears, putting on a helpless front. "Kaylee, it really wasn't me. How could I ever have slipped something into your drink?"

The three of them remained locked in a stalemate.

Just then, a tall figure came down the stairs, stepping in front of Joyce in a swift motion and snatching the phone from Kaylee's hand.

"And you think this is enough to drag Joyce's name through the mud?" Gavin Harris, Kaylee's second brother, gave it a cursory glance before letting out a mocking laugh. "Who knows what kind of shady nonsense you pulled, you clueless bumpkin, to end up getting yourself into trouble, and now you're trying to pin it on Joyce? Keep dreaming! It takes two people to make something like that happen. If you weren't seducing that director, how did he wind up in your room? You're the one with dirt on you, yet you've got the nerve to splash it onto Joyce?"

His eyes were cold and dismissive as he raised his voice. "Get down on your knees and apologize to Joyce right now, and then publicly declare you're quitting the industry and hand everything over to her. Otherwise, don't bother staying in this house!"

Cory pressed his lips together, hesitating for a long while before finally speaking. "Kaylee, apologize to Joyce, and we'll drop this here. No matter what, you shouldn't have lashed out physically."

Joyce immediately seemed emboldened, leaning into Gavin's embrace as she sobbed softly. "Gavin… don't be angry with Kaylee. I'm sure she was simply desperate. I'll be alright…"

Kaylee watched them clinging to each other, her stomach turning with revulsion. Gavin was a well-known racer, aloof and sharp-tongued in public, yet before Joyce, he turned into nothing more than a spineless flatterer, blind to right and wrong.

Kaylee said nothing. She simply rolled her wrist once, and then swung her hand again, striking Joyce across the face.

Gavin's expression snapped in shock as he reached out to seize her. "Are you asking for trouble?"

"I hit her, and I just did it again. What can you do about it?" Kaylee answered by catching his wrist, pivoting smoothly, and flipping him over her shoulder, sending him crashing hard onto the floor. She looked down at him from above. "I have no attachment to this family. I'd rather let everything go to waste than hand it over to that shameless woman. Since you've chosen her as your sister, then we're done here."

She released his arm without another glance, ignoring the crease in Cory's brow as she turned to pack her things and leave the house.

Joyce watched her walk away, a flicker of satisfaction glinting in her eyes.

She had only planned to ruin Kaylee's name. Who would have thought Kaylee would be foolish enough to cut ties with the Harris family herself?

Now, Joyce believed all of Declan's, Cory's, and Gavin's affection would belong to her alone.

But with Kaylee gone, wouldn't getting hold of the inheritance left by Kaylee's grandfather become troublesome?

Putting on a worried expression, she spoke through tears. "Cory, Gavin, is it really alright to let Kaylee walk out like this? She's just a girl…"

Cory gave no reply, a strange irritation stirring inside him.

"Joyce, you're far too soft-hearted. How long do you think she'll last out there? She's only putting on a show to dodge an apology." Gavin let out a cold scoff before turning to the butler. "Cancel every card the family ever gave her. Let's see how long she can keep up that pride when she's got nothing left. When she comes crawling back, she'll have no choice but to apologize properly!"

The butler paused, looking uneasy as he spoke. "The family never issued Miss Kaylee any card."

Gavin and Cory both froze.

Kaylee had been back for more than two years, and not once had they given her a card?

Then how had she been covering her daily expenses all this time? And where had the money come from for all those costly gifts she had given them?

Right then, Kaylee lingered outside the house. The air carried a faint chill, yet a restless thrill surged through her chest.

At last, she had cut herself free from her loathsome so-called "family", and from this point forward, her life belonged solely to her.

Still, before stepping into that new beginning, there was something she needed to take back—the shares her grandfather had left behind.

By the time she had finally united with her family, her grandfather's health had already begun to crumble, and before his final breath, he had entrusted her with twenty percent of the company shares he had owned.

In the life she had lived before, she had clung to the idea of family and handed those shares over to the Harris family to manage. Now, with her mind sharpened and her vision clear, there was no chance she would allow them to profit off her again.

First things first, she needed somewhere to stay.

She slipped her phone from her pocket, thumb gliding over the screen before selecting the contact of her friend—Karl Hopkins, a well-known producer.

The call connected almost instantly. "Hey, sweetheart, what's going on?" he asked.

Kaylee didn't bother with small talk. "I need a place to stay. Can you sort out somewhere quiet for me?"

Karl answered without hesitation, "You can crash at my brother's empty villa. Just so happens, I've got a little favor to ask…" He cleared his throat lightly. "Next month's show is a big one, and I need you to come up with something breathtaking for me."

The corner of Kaylee's lips twitched.

If she had known there'd be strings attached, she might have just checked into a hotel instead.

Karl had been the same man who dragged her into acting for films before.

Truth be told, in this lifetime, Kaylee could have walked away from the entertainment world altogether, but remembering how Joyce had snatched away the roles meant for her in the past, she had no intention of stepping back just yet.

After a moment of quiet thought, she agreed. "Fine, I'll design something for you, but I've got an audition this afternoon. If it works out, I'll be tied up filming, so you'll have to wait," she said.

"That's fine, you're worth waiting for," Karl said before giving her an address. "He won't be staying there for a while, so make yourself comfortable. I'll leave the key with property management."

Kaylee flagged down a cab, stowed her luggage, and headed straight for the audition venue.

The film she was trying out for, "Finale," was the very project Joyce had later used to secure the Best Actress award. The director had actually personally invited Kaylee to audition for the role, and if things hadn't fallen apart in her previous life, that role should have been hers.

This time around, she would not let anyone snatch it away.

The taxi pulled up quickly, and the moment Kaylee stepped out, she saw a crowd already gathered outside.

She had arrived rather late, nearly at the tail end of the auditions.

To her surprise, inside the room, not only were the director, Evan Moss, and the producer present, but Declan was seated among the panel of judges as well.

Her hands curled into tight fists at once, a chill settling deep within her gaze.

The instant Declan noticed her, his expression darkened. "What are you doing here?" he demanded.

Before she could respond, he went on, irritation sharpening his tone. "Who told you I'd be here? Kaylee, can you quit hovering around me? I'm working. Why are you making a scene?"

Evan stiffened slightly, clearly caught off guard by the fact that the two of them knew each other.

The Harris family had kept Kaylee's status under wraps, so hardly anyone knew she was engaged to Declan.

Kaylee steeled herself, burying the loathing in her gaze, shot him an icy look, and said, "Mr. Edwards, we're not exactly acquainted. Don't get ahead of yourself. I'm here on business as well."

She turned, dipped her head toward the director, and said, "Good day, Mr. Moss. May we begin?"

Evan jolted back, gathering himself. "Certainly. Choose a scene and let's get started."

Declan stared, utterly taken aback.

His uncle had funded the production, which was how he'd landed a seat on the audition panel, yet he hadn't followed the casting and never imagined Kaylee would be called in.

On top of that, he knew Joyce had her sights set on this film, and Kaylee ought to have given the opportunity to her.

Still, Kaylee's abilities couldn't possibly measure up to Joyce's; this was likely nothing more than a formality.

Kaylee didn't spare Declan so much as a glance as she picked up the script.

In her former life, she had committed the script to memory long before auditions were held and revisited this film countless times after the release even though she didn't get the role.

"Finale" was a wartime story in which the heroine, Alexandra Gill, a celebrated opera singer as well as a patriot with unyielding resolve, moved through hostile territory while relaying intelligence to her side and providing funds and supplies. Along the way, she developed feelings for the male lead, Sam Davies, an army officer. In the end, Sam fell on the battlefield, and the enemy arrived at the theater to revel in their victory. Upon the stage, she delivered one last performance before locking the theater from within and setting both herself and the enemy ablaze.

"Mr. Moss, I'll take the closing scene." She shut the script. "I'm prepared. Shall we start?"

Evan hadn't anticipated her decision, considering it was the most demanding scene. The actresses before her had steered clear of it because of the difficulty of performing without props during the audition and the lack of young performers trained in classical opera-style singing.

Noticing the resolve in her eyes, he didn't press further and gave a small nod. "We'll begin."

Kaylee held her place at the very center of the stage and drew in a long, steady breath. When her gaze lifted again, everything about her had shifted. A raw, aching emptiness settled over her eyes.

She threw herself into the improv, taking command of the wide, vacant audition hall.

Her arms unfurled with unhurried, measured elegance, as though she were wrapped in layers of rich velvet, gliding through a lone, final waltz among the charred remnants of war. Each step landed with quiet precision, her face set in such fierce concentration it bordered on devotion.

From the dim edges of the auditorium, the director and producers watched in silence, leaning forward without realizing it.

Halfway through, her body snapped with a violent jolt, like a phantom bullet had ripped straight through her spine. She faltered, all color draining from her face as a stifled, uneven breath tore free. When she spoke again, the clarity in her voice had splintered into something thin and fragile.

The director's pulse surged into his throat. The room disappeared for him entirely. He wasn't watching a performer anymore. He was looking at Alexandra herself—fatally wounded after her last act of sabotage, her life slipping away before his eyes.

Her breaths turned faint, her voice dimming like a flame struggling against the wind. The agony in her gaze slowly softened, giving way to a quiet, almost eerie triumph.

When the moment reached its end, all strength abandoned her. She crumpled onto the chilled stage, that final glimmer of victory easing into the still hush of a story come to rest—a deep, marrow-level relief. When her eyelids finally sank shut in calm silence, the entire room froze.

It took a while before the director pulled himself back. "Incredible!" he shouted, his voice charged with excitement. "I knew it! You are Alexandra!"

The producers and casting team broke into applause, yet Declan stayed where he was, his hands knotted tight in his lap.

"No," he snapped, his tone cutting clean through the celebration. "Choosing the lead from a single scene is downright irresponsible! We still have plenty of candidates left to see. There's definitely someone better."

The director looked at him as though he'd lost all sense.

Irresponsible? Someone better?

If Declan hadn't been connected to the lead investor, security would've dragged him out already.

A sharp, icy laugh slipped from Kaylee. She understood Declan's game perfectly—he was stalling for Joyce.

Her lip curled as she exposed him without effort. "If you're that intent on backing your favorite, then bring her in for a comparison read. There's no need to sit there… embarrassing yourself like this."

Declan's face darkened into a blotchy, furious red. He could only watch as Kaylee dipped into a polite bow toward the director and moved for the exit. Jaw clenched, he rushed out after her.

"Kaylee, stop right there!" He charged down the corridor, his hand snapping shut around her wrist like iron. "You're not taking this role! You're handing it over to Joyce!"

Kaylee lowered her gaze to his grip until he released her, a cold, derisive laugh rising in her chest. "Oh? The two of you look awfully close. It's obvious you don't respect me at all as your fiancee. So let's not drag this out—call the engagement off right now."

Declan went rigid, a raw, unfiltered disbelief sweeping across his features.

Kaylee was dumping him? This was the same woman who once clung to every word he uttered, the one who seemed to breathe for his approval?!

He hurried to make sense of it, persuading himself it was nothing more than a petty, jealous outburst.

He deliberately gentled his tone, slipping into a carefully measured, condescending calm. "Are you seriously going to toss aside our wedding over a film? Kaylee, I'm asking you to let this go—for the sake of what we're building together."

He arranged his expression into that well-practiced look of a concerned fiance. "You're meant to be my wife. An acting career doesn't suit you, not when it means putting yourself on display for everyone to see."

Kaylee's mouth twisted, revulsion plain in the curve of it. "It's the twenty-first century, Declan, and you're still trying to sell me that 'dutiful housewife' nonsense? I hate to disappoint you, but my life's ambition isn't to sit pretty as your little trophy wife. I've already severed things with the Harris family. You might as well marry Joyce make her your doll—she doesn't stand a chance in this line of work anyway. Besides..."

She offered him a cutting, sardonic smile. "Trash finds its match. May you stay stuck together till the very end."

Declan's eyes narrowed, his pupils shrinking.

Had Kaylee completely lost her grip on reality?

Watching her turn away from him, something inside him fractured. He surged forward, his face contorting into something harsh and almost savage as he grabbed her arm once more.

"You really think the director holds all the power here?" he snapped. "Let me spell it out for you—the film's main backer is my uncle! One word from me, and you're shut out of the entire industry!"

Kaylee looked at him, visibly startled.

How could the biggest investor behind this project be Declan's uncle? She clearly remembered that—

Taking her reaction as fear, Declan let out a smug, victorious scoff. "Now be sensible. Go tell the director you'll quit and give the role to Joyce; then you come back and marry me. You'll live the rest of your days in luxury. I'll hand you everything you could ever want—so don't act ungrateful."

His words had scarcely settled when a low, ice-cold voice drifted through the hallway. "So... this is how you've chosen to manage the casting I placed in your hands?"