She grabbed a heavy, platinum-studded handbag off the shelf. It felt ridiculous in her hands.

She tapped her terminal, activating the valuation scanner. A blue laser swept over the bag.

"Estimated Retail Value: 150,000 credits. Current Market Resale Value: 12,000 credits."

She frowned. A ninety percent drop?

"Host reputation penalty applied," Sev supplied helpfully. "Buyers in the elite secondary market refuse to purchase items associated with Kenzie Banks. The social stigma is considered toxic."

She threw the bag onto the plush carpet. "Great. I'm financially radioactive."

She walked out of the closet and over to the massive floor-to-ceiling windows of the bedroom. She grabbed the heavy velvet curtains and yanked them open.

She expected to see a sprawling, manicured estate. Instead, she saw a graveyard.

The massive swimming pool was drained and cracked. The imported alien grass was dead and brown. There were empty stone pedestals where expensive statues used to sit.

The original Kenzie had sold everything that wasn't nailed down just to maintain the illusion of her wealth in this one room.

She walked back to the vanity mirror. She started opening drawers, looking for anything practical.

Underneath a velvet jewelry tray, she found a stack of thick, physical envelopes. She ripped one open.

It was a final notice from a loan shark syndicate. The interest alone was enough to buy a small warship.

She tossed the paper onto the desk. But beneath the envelopes, her fingers brushed against a sleek, biometric datapad. The screen flickered to life, recognizing her DNA. It was the original Kenzie's private blackmail ledger. She skimmed the encrypted files, her eyes widening. There were surveillance photos of a woman named Adelia—Kayson's fiancée—coordinating illegal spice smuggling drops at the outer spaceports. Even worse, there were detailed notes proving Adelia had planted encrypted military files on Dallin to frame him, terrified he was getting too close to her operation. And Kayson? The great Major? The ledger contained a signed 'loan agreement' where Kayson manipulated Kenzie into lending him the priceless 'Tear of the Stars' handbag so he could gift it to Adelia and pretend he bought it. The sheer toxicity of this woman's obsession was staggering. She had all the proof to clear Dallin, but kept it hidden to blackmail Kayson into spending time with her.

Panic tried to claw its way up her throat, but she forced it down. She didn't have time to panic.

She needed a buyer who didn't care about her name.

She opened the anonymous browsing network on her terminal. She typed in search parameters for black market liquidators.

A few minutes later, she found it. The Dark Zone Virtual Pawn. No questions asked. Instant credit transfers.

She stripped off the silk robe she was wearing. She dug through the back of the closet and found a sleek, black tactical combat suit. It was tight, functional, and completely unlike anything the original Kenzie wore. She pulled her hair back into a tight, high ponytail.

She grabbed a massive black duffel bag and started throwing bags, watches, and necklaces into it. She didn't care if they scratched.

She dragged the heavy bag to the center of the room. She picked up the VR neural-link visor from the nightstand and slipped it over her eyes.

The real world vanished.

Her boots hit a wet, neon-lit pavement. The air smelled like synthetic cigars and ozone. She was standing in a cyberpunk alleyway.

She pushed open the rusted door of the pawnshop. A bell chimed.

Behind a scratched plexiglass counter sat a goblin merchant. He had a mechanical eye that whirred as he looked her up and down. His lip curled in a sneer.

She walked up to the counter and slammed the virtual duffel bag down. It hit the surface with a heavy, satisfying thud.

The goblin unzipped it. He poked at a diamond necklace with a dirty fingernail.

"A hundred thousand," he grunted, not even looking at her. "For the lot."

She leaned forward, planting both hands flat on the counter. She stared right into his mechanical eye.

"Three hundred thousand," she said, her voice flat and hard. "The Birkin alone is worth two. Don't insult me."

He scoffed. "It's hot merchandise, lady. Or you wouldn't be here."

"It's clean," she shot back. "And if you don't want it, the broker across the street will. I hear he pays a premium for vintage Earth-leather."

She reached for the bag, making a show of zipping it up.

The goblin's hand shot out, stopping the zipper. His mechanical eye whirred frantically, calculating the profit margins.

He looked at her face, trying to find a bluff. She gave him nothing. Just cold, dead-eyed patience.

"Two-fifty," he growled.

"Three hundred," she repeated. "Transfer it now, or I walk."

He ground his teeth. He slammed his hand onto a biometric pad on the counter.

Ding.

Her terminal vibrated. "Deposit received: 300,000 credits."

She didn't smile. She didn't say thank you. She just turned around and walked out the door.

She ripped the VR visor off her face. The bright lights of the closet blinded her for a second.

She quickly routed the funds into an untraceable, encrypted sub-account, bypassing the loan sharks' automatic deduction algorithms. She looked at her terminal. The glaring red overdue warnings flashing on her screen were finally gone. She actually had a positive, usable balance.

She let out a long, shaky breath. She had the money. Now, she needed to keep her husbands alive.

She pulled up the express delivery app on her terminal. She ordered two crates of military-grade premium nutrient fluids. The kind that repaired tissue damage and stabilized energy cores. It cost her a brutal fifty thousand credits, but she didn't hesitate.

She walked out of the bedroom and headed toward the grand staircase.

The mansion was dead quiet, save for the hum of the air filtration system.

Instead of going to the front door, she walked toward the basement stairs. She needed to see exactly how bad the situation was.

The air grew colder and smelled like copper and mildew the further down she went.

At the bottom of the stairs, she peered around the corner.

At the end of the dark corridor was a heavy iron cell. Inside the bars, a massive brown bear was curled into a tight ball.

Buren.

His fur was matted and dull. Huge patches of hair were missing, revealing angry, scabbed skin. He was so thin she could see the outline of his ribs as he took shallow, shaky breaths.

Alfie was kneeling outside the bars. He held the crushed plastic tube she had seen earlier.

He squeezed it. A single, pathetic drop of yellow liquid fell onto Buren's massive nose.

Buren let out a weak, high-pitched whine that sounded entirely too small for a creature his size. He licked the drop off his nose, his eyes closing in desperate relief.

"I know, buddy," Alfie whispered, his voice cracking. "Just hold on. We'll get out of here."

Her chest physically ached. She shifted her weight, intending to walk forward.

Her boot came down on a loose floorboard. It let out a sharp creak.

Alfie spun around instantly. He didn't just look at her; he aimed at her. A razor-sharp blade of pressurized water materialized in his hand, pointed directly at her throat.

Inside the cell, Buren let out a terrified roar. The massive bear scrambled backward, pressing his huge body into the furthest corner of the cage, trembling violently.

She stepped fully into the light. She held her hands up, palms open.

Alfie's eyes darted over her black combat suit. Confusion flickered in his icy eyes, but his hostility didn't waver.

"What do you want?" Alfie spat. "Come to watch him starve? Is it not entertaining enough for you yet?"

She ignored the venom in his voice. She looked past him, straight at the bear. "He's severely dehydrated. His organs are shutting down. If he doesn't get real calories tonight, he's going to die."

Alfie's jaw clenched so hard she heard his teeth grind. "Don't you dare pretend to care. Stay away from him."

She didn't argue. She turned on her heel and walked back up the stairs.

She heard Alfie curse under his breath, probably thinking she was going to fetch a weapon.

She walked straight to the front door of the mansion. She punched the code into the delivery pod embedded in the wall. The metal doors slid open.

Inside sat two heavy, insulated crates.

She grabbed the handles. They were heavy, but the baseline strength of a beast-world female was higher than a human's. She hauled them out and carried them back to the basement stairs.

When she reached the bottom, Alfie was trying to pry the iron bars open with a metal pipe. He was desperate to get Buren out to find water.

She dropped the two crates onto the concrete floor.

Bang.

Alfie jumped, spinning around with the pipe raised.

She kicked the lid off the top crate. Inside, rows of sleek glass vials glowed with a faint, pulsing blue light.

Alfie's eyes widened. He lowered the pipe slightly. He recognized them. Military-grade restoratives.

She reached down, grabbed two vials, and tossed them underhand straight at his chest.

Alfie dropped the pipe and caught them purely on reflex. The moment the glass touched his skin, he held them away from his body like they were radioactive.

"What is this?" he demanded, his eyes narrowing. "Did you lace them with acid? Neurotoxins?"

She rolled her eyes. She bent down and pulled a third vial from the crate.

She popped the metal seal off the top. She tilted her head back and chugged half the bottle.

It tasted like synthetic vanilla and chalk. She grimaced, swallowing hard. She turned the bottle upside down, letting the last few drops spill onto the floor to show it was real.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She looked Alfie dead in the eye.

"Feed him," she ordered, her voice leaving no room for argument. "Then get Josue. Ten minutes. Living room. We're having a family meeting."

She didn't wait for his response. She turned and walked back up the stairs.

She sat at the head of the long, polished dining table in the living room. She tapped her fingernails against the wood, the rhythmic sound echoing in the empty space.

Ten minutes passed.

The door leading to the basement opened.

Alfie walked out first, supporting Josue. Josue was limping heavily, his face pale and covered in a sheen of cold sweat. Behind them walked Buren. He had shifted back into his human form—a towering, broad-shouldered man who looked like he could bench-press a truck. But he walked with his shoulders hunched, trying to make himself look as small as possible.

They stopped at the opposite end of the table. They stood there, a united front of hatred and suspicion.

Josue's green eyes locked onto her. The violent energy from his earlier rampage was gone, replaced by a cold, calculating fury.

Buren peeked out from behind Alfie's shoulder. His eyes immediately darted to the handful of nutrient fluid vials she had placed on the table. He swallowed hard.

She pointed to the three empty chairs near them. "Sit down."

Nobody moved.

Alfie let out a harsh, mocking laugh. "What's the catch, Kenzie? Are the chairs rigged with high-voltage shocks? Or did you just coat the cushions in contact poison?"

She pressed her lips together. She stood up.

She walked down the length of the table. When she reached their end, they instinctively tensed.

She grabbed the first chair, pulled it out, and sat down hard. She bounced on the cushion. She stood up, moved to the second chair, and did the same. Then the third.

She looked at Alfie. "Safe enough for you?"

The three men stared at her. Total bewilderment washed over their faces. The original Kenzie would rather die than perform such an undignified, ridiculous act.

She walked back to the head of the table and sat down. She folded her hands in front of her.

"I'm going to make this quick," she said, looking at each of them. "I know I've been a monster. I know I've done things to you that are unforgivable."

Josue slammed his hands onto the table. "Unforgivable?" he roared.

He grabbed the collar of his shirt and ripped it open, buttons popping off and hitting the floor. He exposed his chest and stomach.

The skin was a roadmap of torture. Burn marks. Deep, jagged scars from a thermal whip.

"Does 'unforgivable' cover this?" Josue snarled, his chest heaving. "Does it cover starving us? Does it cover sending my brothers to die?"

She didn't look away. She forced herself to stare at every single scar. Her stomach churned with guilt that wasn't hers, but she owned it now.

"No," she said quietly. "It doesn't."

Josue's mouth clamped shut. He had expected her to scream, to laugh, or to call the guards. Her calm acceptance threw him off.

She tapped her terminal. A holographic document projected into the center of the table.

"I know you want to kill me," she said, her voice steady. "And honestly, I don't blame you. But I want to live. So, here is my offer."

She pointed to the glowing text. "This is a Declaration of Intent to Divorce. In sixty days, when the trial marriage period ends, I will file for a legal separation citing 'Genetic Incompatibility.' You will all be free."

Dead silence filled the room.

Alfie frowned, his eyes scanning the legal jargon. "The law says a female cannot unilaterally break a contract without cause during the trial period. What kind of trap is this?"

"No trap," she said. "I've already signed it with my biometric seal. It's legally binding on my end. For the next sixty days, I will not interfere with you. You can use whatever is left in this house."

Buren slowly raised his hand, like a child in a classroom. "Can we... can we eat the food?"

Her heart cracked a little. She pushed the vials down the table toward him. "Eat as much as you want. I'll buy more."

Josue slammed his hand down over the vials, stopping Buren from taking one. He glared at her.

"Why?" Josue demanded. "What is your angle?"

She met his gaze. "I told you. I want to live. I don't want to wake up in two months with my throat ripped out. This is a ceasefire."

Josue stared at her, searching her face for the lie. He found nothing but brutal honesty.

He looked down at the holographic contract. He didn't sign it. But slowly, deliberately, he lifted his hand off the vials.

It was a silent agreement.

She nodded. "Good. Eat. Rest."

She stood up and walked out of the room, leaving them alone with the food and their confusion.