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.

The air inside the ballroom was thick with the scent of lilies and the kind of perfume that cost more than a month of my old rent. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, dripping with light that made the diamonds on everyone's necks sparkle like ice. In my first life, I would have been hiding in a corner, hoping Marcus would come find me. Tonight, I stood in the center of the room and let them look.

I saw Alistair Thorne before he saw me. He was standing by a marble pillar, a glass of dark amber liquid in his hand. He wasn't talking to anyone. He didn't need to. He had this gravity about him-people stayed a few feet away, whispering about him, too afraid to actually step into his circle.

He was exactly how the rumors described him. Cold. Dangerous. Like a wolf that had walked into a room full of sheep and was just deciding which one to eat first.

I felt a flutter of fear in my stomach, but I crushed it. I had died once. There was nothing this man could do to me that was worse than the pavement.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats," the auctioneer's voice boomed.

I sat in the third row. Alistair was in the front, his back to me. I watched the back of his head, the way his shoulders stayed perfectly still while everyone else was fidgeting. He was a statue.

The auction started with small things. Gold vases, paintings, a set of pearls. I waited. I knew what was coming. It was the piece Marcus had obsessed over in my first life-the Cursed Emerald. It was a deep, blood-green stone the size of a pigeon's egg, rumored to bring nothing but ruin to whoever owned it.

"And now, Lot forty-two," the auctioneer announced. Two men in white gloves brought out a velvet cushion. "The Midnight Emerald. Starting bid, two million dollars."

The room went quiet. Two million was a lot, even for this crowd.

"Two million," Alistair said. His voice was deep, smooth, and carried a weight that made the hairs on my arms stand up.

"Two point five," a man in the back called out.

"Three million," Alistair said immediately. He didn't even look back.

The room stayed silent. No one wanted to outbid Alistair Thorne. It wasn't just about the money; it was about the fact that if you crossed him, he'd find a way to take everything else you owned the next morning.

The auctioneer raised his hammer. "Three million going once. Three million going twice-"

"Five million."

The entire room gasped. People actually stood up to see who had spoken. I felt every eye in the building land on me. My heart was thumping so hard I thought it would burst out of my chest, but I kept my face as cold as stone. I didn't look at the crowd. I looked at the back of Alistair's head.

For the first time all night, Alistair Thorne moved. He turned his head slowly, looking over his shoulder. His eyes were like dark glass-unreadable and sharp. He looked at me, his gaze lingering on my face, then down at the emerald silk of my dress, then back to my eyes.

He didn't look angry. He looked... curious.

"Six million," he said, his eyes never leaving mine.

"Seven," I replied. My voice didn't shake. I had the money. It was my father's "emergency" fund, the one Marcus didn't even know existed yet.

Alistair tilted his head. A tiny, almost invisible smirk touched the corner of his mouth. "Ten million."

The room was buzzing now. People were whispering my name. Isn't that the Vane girl? Where did she get that kind of money? Is she crazy?

"Ten million going once," the auctioneer said, his voice trembling with excitement. "Ten million going twice..."

I stayed silent. I didn't bid again. Ten million was exactly what I wanted him to pay. I wanted him to see me, to remember me, and to know that I was a player who wasn't afraid of him.

"Sold! To Mr. Thorne for ten million dollars!"

The hammer came down. Alistair kept looking at me for a long beat before he finally turned back around.

The rest of the auction was a blur. My skin felt hot, and the adrenaline was humming through my veins like an electric current. As soon as the event ended and people started moving toward the bar, I made my move. I didn't wait for him to find me. I walked straight toward him.

He was standing by the exit, leaning against the wall, waiting. It was like he knew I was coming.

"That was an expensive game for a girl who doesn't even want the stone," Alistair said. He didn't turn to look at me, but his voice was loud enough for only me to hear.

"I wanted to see if the rumors were true," I said, stepping up beside him. I could smell him now-cedarwood, expensive tobacco, and something cold like rain. "They say you always get what you want, no matter the cost."

He finally looked at me. Close up, he was even more terrifying. There was no warmth in him, just a heavy, dark power. "And what do you want, Clara Vane? Besides making me overpay by seven million dollars?"

"I want a partner," I said. I didn't flinch. "I have information about a merger that's going to happen in three months. A merger that will ruin your shipping empire if it goes through. I can stop it. But I need your protection to do it."

Alistair stepped closer, entering my personal space. He was so tall I had to tilt my head back to look at him. He looked down at me, his eyes searching mine for a lie, for fear, for anything.

"Why should I trust a girl who was, until yesterday, the shadow of a man like Marcus Reed?" he asked. His voice was low, a dangerous growl.

"Because the girl you're talking about died," I whispered. "And the woman standing in front of you is the only person in this room who isn't afraid of you."

Alistair stared at me for a long time. The silence between us was like a taut wire. Then, he reached out. I expected him to grab my arm or push me away, but his hand stopped just an inch from my cheek. He didn't touch me, but I could feel the heat from his skin.

"You're playing a very dangerous game, Clara," he said. "If you lie to me, I won't just ruin you. I'll make sure you disappear."

"I know," I said. "That's why I'm here."

He dropped his hand and stepped back. "My car is outside. You have ten minutes to convince me not to leave you on the curb."

He turned and walked away without checking to see if I was following. I took a deep breath, smoothed my dress, and followed the monster into the night.