Four black Range Rovers tore through the streets of Century City. The convoy moved in a tight, aggressive formation, projecting absolute dominance.

They descended into the private underground parking garage of the Aura Entertainment building. Tires screeched as they boxed in the elevator entrance.

Three paparazzi hiding behind a concrete pillar raised their cameras. Before they could press the shutters, two massive bodyguards in black suits slammed into them, shoving the lenses down hard against the pavement.

Eileen stepped out of the center vehicle.

Her four-inch stilettos clicked against the concrete. Flanked by four guards, she walked straight into the VIP elevator. She hit the button for the top floor.

The doors opened to the executive suite.

Eileen pushed open the frosted glass door to Gwen's office. A thick cloud of cigarette smoke hit her face.

Gwen was pacing furiously in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows. Crumpled newspapers and printed screenshots littered the floor. In the corner, huddled on a leather sofa, sat Mindy, the team's junior assistant. She was chewing her fingernails, looking terrified.

Gwen spun around at the sound of the door. She opened her mouth to scream, but the sight of the four towering bodyguards filling the hallway choked the words in her throat.

Eileen waved her hand dismissively. The guards stepped back and pulled the door shut, sealing the room.

Eileen ignored Gwen's glaring eyes. She walked over to the wet bar, picked up a crystal glass, and poured herself some ice water. The cold liquid soothed her dry throat.

Gwen marched over to her desk and slammed a stack of glossy, high-definition photos onto the wood.

"What the hell were you doing?" Gwen hissed. "Look at these!"

Eileen took a sip of water. She walked slowly to the desk and looked down.

The photos showed a woman with a similar build to hers, standing in the shadows of a hotel stairwell, entangled with a tall man. The lighting was terrible. The faces were obscured.

Eileen let out a short, derisive scoff.

She reached out and tapped her index finger hard against the glossy paper, right on the woman's wrist.

"Look at the shape," Eileen said, tapping the photo. "That's the Alhambra clover. I have a documented nickel allergy, and I've always found that specific design incredibly tacky anyway. I haven't worn a metal bracelet in five years. You know this."

Gwen frowned, leaning in to squint at the blurry gold chain.

The detail was slightly blurred, but the distinct four-leaf shape was undeniably there. It was a fatal flaw in the setup.

"Second," Eileen continued, her tone turning surgical. "The Beverly Hills Hotel has military-grade security on the VIP floors. Paparazzi do not accidentally wander into the twelfth-floor fire escape."

Eileen turned her head slowly. Her gaze swept across the room and locked onto the girl shrinking into the sofa.

"There is only one explanation," Eileen said, her voice echoing in the quiet office. "Someone sold my room number and my private itinerary to the press."

Mindy's shoulders jerked violently. The tablet in her lap slipped and clattered onto the floor.

Gwen whipped her head around, staring at the assistant. "Mindy? You've been with us for three years."

Eileen set her water glass down on the desk. She walked toward the sofa. Her stilettos sank into the plush carpet, muffling her steps, making her look like a predator stalking prey.

She stopped right in front of Mindy, looking down at her.

"Where were you between three and four o'clock this afternoon?" Eileen asked. The question was soft, but heavy with pressure.

"I... I went down to the lobby to get coffee," Mindy stammered, her eyes darting everywhere except Eileen's face.

Eileen leaned down, bringing her face level with the assistant's.

"It takes an hour to get a coffee?" Eileen sneered. "And why does the hem of your skirt have a grease stain on it? The kind of grease you only get from brushing against a car bumper in an underground parking garage."

Mindy gasped. Her hands flew down to cover the edge of her skirt in a desperate, guilty reflex.

Gwen realized the truth instantly. She lunged forward, grabbing Mindy by the collar of her blouse. "You sold her out? Who paid you?!"

Tears spilled out of Mindy's eyes. She started shaking her head frantically. "No! I didn't! You have to believe me!"

Eileen stood up straight. She was done playing detective.

She turned to Gwen. "Revoke all her email access. Deactivate her keycards. Cut off her company phone. Tomorrow morning, have the legal department pull her bank records."

At the words 'legal department' and 'bank records', Mindy's legs gave out. She collapsed back onto the sofa, her face turning the color of ash. She began to sob hysterically.

Eileen picked up her water glass and slammed it down on the glass coffee table. The sharp crack made Mindy flinch.

"You're fired," Eileen said coldly. "Get out of my sight."

The adrenaline crash hit Eileen the moment she stepped out of the Aura Entertainment building.

She rubbed her throbbing temples as the bodyguards escorted her back into the black Range Rover. The heavy doors slammed shut, sealing her in the quiet, climate-controlled cabin.

The convoy sped through the midnight streets of Los Angeles. Neon lights bled across the tinted windows. Eileen leaned her head against the leather headrest and closed her eyes.

This body was weak. The original owner's extreme dieting and lack of exercise meant that a few hours of high-stress confrontation had completely drained her physical reserves. Her stomach twisted with a dull ache, and her muscles felt like lead.

The cars glided silently through the gates of the Vinson estate.

Eileen thanked the guard who opened her door. She slipped her stilettos off, holding them in one hand, and walked barefoot across the thick carpets of the mansion.

She moved quietly down the dim hallway. As she passed Carlisle's study, she noticed a thin sliver of warm light spilling from under the heavy oak door. She didn't stop.

She reached her bedroom at the end of the hall. She stepped inside and immediately threw the deadbolt, locking the door with a solid click.

She dropped her expensive handbag onto the floor. She walked straight to the massive floor-to-ceiling windows and yanked the heavy blackout curtains shut.

The room plunged into absolute darkness. The silence was absolute.

Eileen walked to the center of the room and sat down cross-legged on the Persian rug. She rested her hands on her knees, palms facing up. She took a deep breath, forcing her heart rate to slow.

She closed her eyes and focused all her mental energy on a single point right between her eyebrows.

This was the secret she had carried from her original world. She needed to know if it had crossed over with her soul.

As her concentration deepened, a tiny spark of heat ignited behind her forehead. The heat rapidly expanded, turning into a powerful, magnetic pull that enveloped her entire body.

A violent sensation of weightlessness hit her. It felt like falling backward off a cliff in the dark.

The sensation lasted for half a second. Then, her body hit solid ground.

Eileen snapped her eyes open.

She was no longer in the dark, stuffy bedroom. She was standing under a sky that had no sun, yet radiated a soft, perfect, ambient light. The air was incredibly pure, thick with the smell of rich, wet soil and growing things.

She looked down. She was standing on a patch of jet-black soil, about the size of half a football field. The edges of the dirt were swallowed by a dense, impenetrable wall of gray fog.

In the exact center of the black soil sat a circular well made of ancient, moss-covered stones.

Water bubbled up from the center of the well, the water level slowly rising as a single drop formed at the lip of the stone every few seconds with a crisp, musical trickling sound.

Eileen let out a breathless laugh. She sprinted toward the well, her bare feet sinking slightly into the soft earth.

She dropped to her knees beside the stones. The water inside was crystal clear, emitting a very faint, pulsing blue glow.

She cupped her hands and plunged them into the freezing water. She brought her hands to her mouth and drank greedily.

The water was icy and sweet. The moment it hit her stomach, it exploded into a wave of intense, soothing heat.

The heat rushed through her veins like liquid fire. The dull ache in her stomach vanished instantly. The heavy fatigue in her muscles dissolved. The lingering toxins from the original owner's hangover and poor diet were flushed out of her system in seconds.

Eileen looked down at her hands. The pale, sickly skin was rapidly taking on a healthy, vibrant pink flush. Her fingernails looked stronger.

She stood up, her body buzzing with limitless energy.

She paced around the well, her mind racing. This pocket dimension was tied to her soul. The spring water was a biological miracle. It repaired cellular damage at an impossible rate.

If this water could fix her ruined body in seconds, what could it do to Carlisle's legs?

The doctors had declared his spinal nerve damage permanent. But they didn't have magic water.

Curing the most powerful media mogul in the country wasn't just about paying him back for his protection. It was about creating an unbreakable bond. If she gave him his legs back, he would give her the world.

She knelt back down and studied the flow of the water. The well only produced a slow trickle. It would take a full day to gather a small glass. She would have to dose him slowly, secretly.

Her plan was set.

Eileen closed her eyes and focused on the heat between her brows.

The weightlessness returned. When she opened her eyes, she was sitting on the Persian rug in her dark bedroom.

She felt incredible. She stood up and walked into the master bathroom. She flipped on the harsh vanity lights and looked in the mirror.

Her skin was glowing. Her eyes were bright and sharp.

She smiled at her reflection. "Watch your back, Hollywood."

Morning sunlight flooded the master bedroom. Eileen woke up feeling completely refreshed, a stark contrast to the agony of the previous day.

She showered quickly and dressed in a crisp, white silk loungewear set. It was elegant but comfortable, projecting a relaxed authority.

She walked down the sweeping spiral staircase, holding a cup of black coffee. As she reached the foyer, she noticed the tense posture of the security guards stationed by the front door.

Mr. Ainsworth stepped forward, his face pinched in disapproval.

"Madam," the butler said, bowing slightly. "The former assistant, Mindy, is at the front gates. She is causing a scene. She refuses to leave until she speaks with you."

Eileen took a slow sip of her coffee. The bitter liquid washed over her tongue.

She lowered the cup and smiled coldly. "Let her in. Bring her to the front lawn."

The heavy iron gates groaned as they opened just enough to let a person through. Two massive security guards dragged Mindy onto the manicured grass.

Mindy looked terrible. Her hair was a tangled mess, her clothes were wrinkled, and her face was streaked with black mascara.

The moment she saw Eileen standing on the marble steps, Mindy broke free from the guards and threw herself onto the grass. Her knees hit the ground hard.

"Eileen! Please!" Mindy screamed, her voice cracking. "You can't fire me! I need this job! My mother is in the hospital, I need the insurance money!"

A few gardeners trimming the hedges nearby paused their work. They exchanged uncomfortable glances, pity softening their eyes.

Eileen stood on the top step, looking down at the sobbing girl. Her face was carved from marble. Not a single muscle twitched in sympathy.

She reached into the pocket of her silk trousers and pulled out her phone. She swiped the screen, opening an encrypted email sent by the Aura IT department at 3:00 AM.

Eileen didn't raise her voice, but the absolute coldness of her tone cut through Mindy's crying.

"Yesterday, at 3:15 PM, your personal bank account received an anonymous wire transfer of twenty thousand dollars."

Mindy's sobbing choked off instantly. Her eyes widened in sheer terror. She scrambled for an excuse. "That... that was a loan! From my uncle!"

Eileen let out a short, harsh laugh. She read the next line on the screen.

"At 3:20 PM, your phone connected to the public Wi-Fi network in the lobby of the Beverly Hills Hotel."

Eileen walked down two steps, closing the distance. Her presence was suffocating.

"At 3:25 PM, you sent an encrypted message containing a photo of my room number to an unregistered burner phone."

Eileen flipped her phone around and shoved the screen toward Mindy's face. The bright display showed the exact IP logs and data transfer records.

The irrefutable proof hit Mindy like a physical blow. The color drained completely from her face. Her jaw slacked, and she slumped forward, her hands pressing into the grass as if she couldn't support her own weight.

"You tried to destroy my life for twenty thousand dollars," Eileen said, her voice dripping with venom. "And now you want to play the victim?"

Eileen turned her head, sweeping her gaze over the gardeners and the security staff. She raised her voice, making sure every word echoed across the lawn.

"In this house, betrayal is a terminal disease."

The staff members who had felt pity a moment ago immediately looked down at their feet. The new Madam was terrifying.

Eileen looked at the head of security. "Throw her out. Tell the press camped outside that if any agency in this town hires her, they are declaring war on Aura Entertainment."

It was a total industry blacklist.

Mindy let out a bloodcurdling shriek. She lunged forward, trying to grab Eileen's ankles, but the guards snatched her by the arms and dragged her backward across the grass.

The heavy iron gates slammed shut, cutting off Mindy's wails.

The lawn was silent again.

Eileen took a deep breath of the morning air, smelling the cut grass. She brushed her hands together, a physical gesture of discarding trash.

Suddenly, the hair on the back of her neck stood up. She felt the distinct weight of someone watching her.

She tilted her head back and looked up at the second-floor balcony.

Carlisle was sitting in his wheelchair, half-hidden in the shadows of the overhang. He held a porcelain teacup in his hand. He was looking down at her, having witnessed the entire execution.

Eileen didn't look away. She held his gaze across the distance. The morning sun hit her face, making her skin glow.

Carlisle's hand moved. Very slowly, he raised his teacup an inch in the air. It was a microscopic gesture of acknowledgment.

Eileen blinked in surprise. Then, a massive, genuine smile broke across her face. She raised her hand and gave him a cheeky, exaggerated wink.

Carlisle's Adam's apple bobbed hard. He gripped the wheels of his chair and violently spun it around, fleeing into the shadows of his bedroom.

Eileen laughed out loud, the sound ringing across the lawn as she turned to go back inside.