I could hear the blood rushing in my ears like a heavy waterfall. The cafe was too bright and too loud. The clinking of spoons against ceramic mugs sounded like hammers hitting stone. I stared at Marcus, really looked at him, and I felt a wave of cold sickness wash over me.

He looked so innocent. He had that boyish charm I used to adore, with a little lock of hair falling over his forehead. Back then, I thought it was cute. Now, I just saw it as a mask. This was the man who had stood on a roof and watched the life go out of my eyes without blinking.

"Clara? Babe, you're scaring me," Marcus said. He laughed, but it was that hollow, nervous laugh he used when he wasn't getting his way. "What do you mean you aren't signing? We've been talking about this startup for months. It's our future. Our house, our kids, everything we ever wanted is in that folder."

Our kids. The lie made my skin crawl. He never wanted a family with me. He just wanted a bank account that didn't talk back.

I looked down at the paper. It was a simple contract. If I signed it, I would move five hundred thousand dollars from my father's trust into a business account Marcus controlled. In my first life, I had been so proud to do it. I thought I was being a supportive partner. I thought I was being a hero.

"I can't do it today, Marcus," I said. I was proud of how steady my voice was, even though my insides felt like they were made of glass.

"Is it the money? Are you worried about the risk?" Marcus leaned over the table, trying to catch my gaze. He reached for my hand again, but I moved it to my lap before he could touch me. "I told you, I've done the research. The tech market is booming. If we don't move now, we lose the office space. I already told the landlord we'd have the deposit by four o'clock."

"That was a mistake," I told him. "You shouldn't make promises with money that isn't yours yet."

Marcus flinched like I had slapped him. The mask slipped for just a second. His eyes went hard and dark, the same way they looked on the roof. It was a tiny flash of the killer he would become, and it made my heart stop for a beat.

"What is wrong with you today?" he snapped. He caught himself and softened his voice quickly, but the damage was done. "I'm sorry. I'm just stressed. This is a big deal for us, Clara. I thought we were a team."

"We are a team," I lied. The words tasted like poison in my mouth. "But I had a meeting with my estate lawyer this morning. There is a random audit on my father's accounts. The bank has flagged some of the larger transfers because they happened so close to his death. Everything is frozen for at least thirty days."

Marcus stared at me. He wasn't looking for signs that I was okay or stressed about my inheritance. He was just calculating how this would hurt his plans.

"Thirty days?" he whispered. "Clara, that's impossible. We'll lose the building. The investors will walk away. Can't you call someone? Use your name?"

"I tried," I said, leaning back in the booth. I felt a strange, cold sense of power. For the first time, I was the one holding the keys to the kingdom. "There is nothing I can do. The law is the law."

Marcus sat back, his face twisted in frustration. He wasn't the man I loved anymore. He was just a small, greedy person who was losing his grip on a golden ticket. He didn't even try to hide his anger this time. He just stared at the folder like he wanted to set it on fire.

"Fine," he spat. "I guess I'll have to call the landlord and tell him my girlfriend can't keep her word."

"Tell him whatever you like," I said.

I stood up and grabbed my purse. My legs felt heavy, but I forced myself to walk away with my head held high. I didn't look back to see the look on his face. I knew what it looked like. I had seen it as I fell from the building.

I stepped out of the cafe and into the warm morning air. My lungs felt like they were finally getting enough oxygen. I was back. I was really back. And I had just taken the first step toward saving my life.

But Marcus was only half the problem.

I walked toward the subway, my mind racing. If I was twenty-one again, that meant Sienna was already in my life. She was probably sitting in my living room right now, pretending to be my best friend while she waited for me to come home and tell her the good news about the money.

The thought of her made my blood boil. I remembered the way she pushed me. I remembered the joy in her eyes when she told me Marcus never loved me.

I checked my phone. It was an old model, the screen was small and the buttons were clunky. I had a message from her.

Hey bestie! How did the meeting go? Are we rich yet? I've got wine chilling!

I felt a shiver of pure disgust. I didn't reply. I couldn't. Not yet.

I needed a plan. I had thirty days before Marcus found a way to pressure me again. Thirty days to move my money, hide my assets, and find someone who could help me take them both down. I couldn't do this alone. I was rich, but I didn't have power. Not the kind of power Marcus was afraid of.

I remembered a name I used to hear in the shadows of the high-society parties. A man who didn't play by the rules. A man who made Marcus look like a child playing with toy cars.

Alistair Thorne.

In my first life, I was terrified of him. Everyone was. He was the kind of man who bought companies just to break them apart. He was cold, he was ruthless, and he didn't care about anything but winning.

I looked at the reflection of my young, tired face in a store window. I looked like a girl who was about to lose everything.

"Not this time," I whispered to the glass.

I wasn't going to be the girl who fell. I was going to be the girl who stood her ground. And if I had to make a deal with a monster to do it, then that's exactly what I would do.

The walk back to my apartment felt like a trip through a graveyard. Every street corner reminded me of a memory that turned out to be a lie. I passed the bakery where Marcus used to buy me cupcakes, and the park where he first told me he loved me. Back then, those memories were gold. Now, they were just trash.

I reached the front door of my building. It was a beautiful place with a marble lobby and a doorman who always tipped his hat to me. My dad had worked his whole life to make sure I lived in a place like this. He wanted me to be safe. I felt a sharp pang of guilt in my chest thinking about how I let two snakes crawl right into the heart of his legacy.

I took a deep breath and pushed the key into the lock.

The apartment was bright and airy. The scent of vanilla candles filled the air, and for a second, I almost let myself relax. Then I heard the sound of humming coming from the kitchen.

Sienna walked out, wearing a pair of my expensive yoga leggings and a cropped top. She was holding a glass of chilled white wine in each hand. She looked so pretty, so small, and so perfectly fake.

"There she is!" Sienna chirped, walking toward me with a huge smile. "I heard the door. Well? Tell me everything! Is Marcus the happiest man in the world? Are we officially the board members of a tech empire?"

She tried to hand me a glass of wine. I looked at her hand-the same hand that had pushed me off the roof-and I felt a surge of heat in my face. It took everything I had not to throw the wine right back at her.

"No," I said, walking past her and dropping my bag on the counter. "I didn't sign."

Sienna froze. The glass in her hand wobbled. "Wait, what? Why not? Did Marcus get cold feet? I thought he was so ready for this."

"It wasn't Marcus," I said, turning to face her. I watched her closely, looking for that tiny crack in her mask. "The bank flagged my inheritance. There's a random audit on the estate. Everything is locked down for at least thirty days."

The disappointment that flashed across her face was so quick most people would have missed it. But I wasn't most people anymore. I saw her eyes go cold for a split second before she forced them to look worried.

"Thirty days?" Sienna whispered. She set the wine glasses down on the counter with a loud clink. "But Clara, you know Marcus. He was counting on that money for the deposit. He's going to be so stressed. Can't you just call the bank and tell them who you are?"

"I already told him I wouldn't do that," I said. I leaned against the counter and crossed my arms. "The law is the law, Sienna. Besides, if his business idea is so great, it can survive a few weeks of waiting, right?"

Sienna's mouth thinned into a straight line. She wasn't used to me talking back. In the old life, I was the girl who apologized for everything. I was the girl who let Sienna borrow my jewelry and never asked for it back.

"I just think you're being a little hard on him," Sienna said, her voice turning sweet and manipulative. "He loves you so much, Clara. He's doing all of this for your future. Don't you think you owe him a little more trust?"

"I think I owe myself a little more caution," I replied.

The silence in the room grew heavy. Sienna stared at me like she was seeing a stranger. She wasn't wrong. The girl she knew died on a sidewalk three years from now.

"You're being really weird today," Sienna said, picking up her wine and taking a long sip. "Is it because of that dream you had? You've been acting like you're in a bad mood since you woke up."

"I'm not in a bad mood. I'm just tired," I said, though my heart was racing. I had to get her out of my space. Being near her felt like being near a ticking bomb. "In fact, I think I need some space. I told Marcus I had a headache, and I think I need to just be alone for a few days to figure out this bank stuff."

Sienna blinked. "A few days? But we were supposed to go to that gallery opening tomorrow night! And I was going to stay over so we could finish that mood board for the office."

"I'm canceling the gallery," I said. "And I think it's better if you stay at your own place for a while. I need to focus."

Sienna's face twisted. She wasn't just disappointed now; she was angry. She had been living off my generosity for a year, treating my guest room like her own private suite.

"Fine," she spat, her voice losing all of its sweetness. "If you want to be alone and miserable, go ahead. But don't come crying to me when Marcus gets upset that you're treating him like a stranger."

She grabbed her purse from the sofa and marched toward the door. She didn't even say goodbye. She slammed the door so hard the pictures on the wall rattled.

I sank onto a kitchen stool, my hands shaking. I had done it. I had said no to Marcus and I had kicked Sienna out. The two people who had destroyed me were finally on the outside looking in.

But I knew this was just the beginning. Marcus wouldn't give up on five hundred thousand dollars that easily. He would try to guilt me. He would try to make me feel small. And Sienna would be right there, whispering in his ear, helping him find a way to break me.

I looked at the wine glasses on the counter. Two glasses for a celebration that would never happen.

I picked them both up and poured the wine down the sink. I watched the pale liquid swirl down the drain, and I felt a strange sense of peace. I wasn't a victim anymore. I was a player in a game they didn't even know we were playing.

I went to my bedroom and pulled out an old notebook. I sat on the edge of the bed and started writing. I wrote down everything I remembered. The dates of the mergers, the names of the investors Marcus had cheated, the secret deals Sienna had made behind my back.

I had thirty days.

By the time the bank "audit" was over, I wouldn't just be protecting my money. I would be building a trap so big they would never see it coming.

And I knew exactly who the first person I needed to call was.

I looked at my phone and typed in the name I had searched for earlier. Alistair Thorne. I knew he was going to be at a high-end jewelry auction on Friday. It was an event for the richest people in the country. Marcus had tried to get us an invitation in the first life, but he wasn't important enough.

But I was a Vane. And my name still meant something.

I was going to that auction. And I was going to meet the only man who could help me turn my rage into a weapon.

The next three days were a lesson in how to watch a man drown without jumping in to save him.

I stayed in my apartment, keeping the lights low and the door locked. Marcus called me thirty-two times. He sent texts that went from sweet and worried to angry and demanding, then back to sweet again. In my first life, I would have been crying by the third call, apologizing for making him wait. Now, I just watched my phone light up on the kitchen counter like a dying star.

On Friday morning, I finally picked up.

"Clara! God, finally!" Marcus sounded like he hadn't slept. His voice was jagged. "I've been coming by your place, but the doorman won't let me up. What is going on? We need to talk about the bank. I found a guy who can help us skip the audit."

I leaned back against my headboard, filing my nails. I felt a cold, dark thrill at the desperation in his voice. "I told you, Marcus. I'm stressed. The lawyers told me not to talk to anyone about the finances until it's cleared."

"I'm not 'anyone,' Clara! I'm your boyfriend!" he shouted. I heard something shatter in the background on his end-probably a glass. "Listen, I need you to meet me at the park. Now. Just for ten minutes."

"Fine," I said softly. "The fountain. In an hour."

I didn't dress like the girl he knew. Usually, I wore soft pinks and pastels, things that made me look young and easy to handle. Today, I put on a sharp, black tailored coat and dark sunglasses. I looked like a woman going to a funeral. His.

I got to the park early and sat on a bench hidden behind some thick hedges. I wanted to see him before he saw me. I wanted to see the man behind the mask.

Marcus arrived five minutes later. He didn't see me. He was pacing back and forth by the fountain, his face twisted into a scowl that made him look ten years older. He was biting his nails, his eyes darting around like a cornered animal.

Then, his phone rang. He snapped it open.

"I know, I know!" he yelled into the phone. "The girl is being difficult! I don't know what happened, she just snapped. Just tell the landlord we'll have the money by Monday. I'll fix it. I always fix it."

He paused, listening. His face went red. "Don't you dare talk to me like that, Sienna! You're the one who said this would be easy. You said she was a pushover. Well, your 'pushover' is locking me out!"

I sat frozen, the cold air hitting my face. Even though I knew they were working together, hearing him say it-hearing him call me a pushover to her-felt like a slap. My heart hurt for the girl I used to be. She had loved him so much, and he had looked at her like a chore.

Marcus hung up and kicked a trash can, a loud metallic bang echoing through the quiet park. He looked ugly. Not in his face, but in his soul.

I stood up and walked out from behind the bushes. "Marcus?"

He spun around, and in a second, the mask was back. His face smoothed out, his eyes went soft, and he rushed toward me. "Clara! Babe, I was so worried."

He tried to grab my hands, but I kept them buried deep in my coat pockets. "I heard you yelling, Marcus. Who were you talking to?"

He didn't even flinch. "Just a contractor for the office. They're being pushy. You know how it is. But forget that-did you talk to the bank? Is there any way to get a bridge loan?"

I watched him. I watched the way his eyes searched mine for a sign of weakness. He didn't care that I looked pale. He didn't care that I was clearly upset. He just wanted to know where his money was.

"No loan," I said. "And the audit might actually take longer than a month. They found some inconsistencies in how you handled the last gift I gave you."

That was a lie, but it hit him like a bullet. Marcus stepped back, his mouth hanging open. "What? That's... that's impossible. I handled that perfectly."

"Did you?" I asked, stepping closer. I let a little bit of my coldness show. "Because the bank thinks it looks a lot like money laundering, Marcus. They're asking a lot of questions about where that fifty thousand went."

"I... I can explain that," he stuttered. He was sweating now, despite the cold. "Clara, you have to tell them it was a mistake. If they dig into my past, it could ruin the startup before it even starts!"

"I'll see what I can do," I said, my voice empty. "But for now, I think we need a break. I can't be seen with you while they're investigating my accounts. It looks bad for the estate."

"A break?" Marcus grabbed my arm, his grip tight and painful. "You can't be serious. Now? When I need you most?"

"You're hurting me, Marcus," I said, looking down at his hand.

He let go immediately, his eyes wide with fear-not fear for me, but fear that he had pushed too far. "I'm sorry. I'm just... I'm spiraling, Clara. Please. Don't leave me like this."

"I have to go," I said. I turned and walked away, feeling his eyes burning into my back.

I didn't go home. I took a taxi to the other side of the city, to a small, private boutique that only opened for people with a certain last name. I had an appointment.

Tonight was the Thorne Auction.

I spent three hours getting ready. I chose a dress the color of a dark forest-deep, shimmering emerald silk that clung to my body like a second skin. I did my makeup sharp, my lips a deep red, my eyes dark and smoky. I didn't look like a girl anymore.

When I looked in the mirror, I saw the woman who was going to win.

I arrived at the auction house just as the sun was setting. The building was a palace of glass and steel, guarded by men in black suits with earpieces. I handed my invitation to the man at the door. He looked at the name and bowed slightly.

"Welcome, Miss Vane."

I stepped inside. The room was filled with the smell of expensive perfume and old money. And there, standing in the center of the room, surrounded by a circle of people who looked terrified to speak to him, was Alistair Thorne.

He was taller than I remembered. His hair was black as coal, and his suit was so sharp it looked like it could cut. He wasn't talking. He was just listening, his eyes scanning the room like a hawk looking for its next meal.

He looked up and his eyes met mine.

For a second, the whole room went silent. He didn't smile. He didn't nod. He just looked at me with an intensity that made my breath catch in my throat. He knew I didn't belong here. And he knew I was there for him.

I picked up a glass of champagne from a passing tray and took a sip. The game was about to get very dangerous.