Henry had thrown that land at me like scraps to a stray dog—pure humiliation.

Now? It was a goldmine worth billions.

Amelia sat frozen on the sofa, her face bloodless. Her manicured nails dug into her palms hard enough to draw blood. She hadn't expected my luck to be this monstrous.

"Henry, Anna knew!" she shrieked. "She refused to divorce just for this land! That bitch played us!"

Tears streamed down her face—a well-rehearsed performance. It worked. Henry's temper exploded.

"I knew she wouldn't leave easily! She dug the pit and waited for me to jump!" He snatched the phone from the table, hands shaking. "I'm going to kill her!"

He dialed. This time, I answered.

"Anna Pruitt! You fraud! That land belongs to the Sanchez family!" His roar nearly blew out my speaker. "Return the deed now! Or I'll make sure you never show your face in Harbor City again!"

I held the phone away from my ear, unbothered. I was sitting in an upscale salon, studying my reflection. The long, heavy locks were gone—replaced by a sharp bob that framed my jaw like a blade.

The timid stand-in was dead.

"Mr. Sanchez, the divorce agreement is signed in black and white," I said coolly. "Property division is final. If your memory's failing due to early-onset dementia, I can burn you a copy—like an offering to the dead."

He was hyperventilating now.

"Anna Pruitt! That's two billion! You think you can swallow that without choking?!"

I laughed softly, smoothing a stray hair into place.

"Mr. Sanchez, thank you for your generosity. Consider it a service fee for your... performance these past three years. Though frankly, your skills in bed were mediocre at best." I paused. "But I'm not short on cash. Consider it a generous tip."

I hung up and blocked his number again.

The woman in the mirror smiled back—radiant and dangerous.

Henry Sanchez, this is only the beginning.

The real show hasn't even started.

With two billion in my account, I moved fast.

Pruitt Capital was born overnight. The name was a declaration of war—I wanted all of Harbor City to know the Pruitt bloodline wasn't extinct.

My first target: the Deep Bay project.

The Sanchez Group was fighting tooth and nail for it. Their lifeline for the fiscal year. Henry had already leveraged half his fortune greasing palms to secure the deal. If he lost this, the Sanchez family's capital chain would snap clean in half.

Night fell, and with it came a lavish gala where Harbor City's elite gathered to preen. Rumor had it Henry was bringing Amelia to announce his victory with Deep Bay.

I couldn't miss the chance to offer my congratulations.

I donned custom haute couture—crimson red, deep-V, completely backless. Around my neck hung a pink diamond worth eighty million, fresh from the auction block.

My outfit alone cost more than Sanchez Group's profits for the last six months.

At the entrance, I spotted them. Sycophants swarmed Henry and Amelia like flies. She wore pure white, playing the innocent saint to perfection. Henry looked haggard, barely holding his composure as he forced smiles for the cameras.

"Henry, surely Deep Bay is yours?" a guest simpered.

"Naturally," another chimed in. "Who in Harbor City dares compete with Mr. Sanchez?"

The bootlicking was deafening. Amelia clung to Henry's arm, gazing up at him adoringly.

"My, isn't this lively?"

I pushed the heavy doors open. My stilettos struck marble—sharp, rhythmic.

The chatter died. Every eye locked onto me.

Whispers rippled through the banquet hall as I made my entrance.

"Who is that? Since when does Harbor City have someone like her?"

"My God, is that Anna Pruitt? The stand-in?"

"Impossible. Her entire aura has changed."

I ignored the noise, gaze fixed ahead as I cut through the crowd.

Henry spotted me instantly. His pupils constricted, stunned amazement curdling into rage.

"Anna Pruitt." He stepped into my path. "What are you doing here? This isn't a place for someone like you." His voice rose. "Security! Since when do we let trash through the front door?"

Amelia was quick to join. She covered her mouth in feigned shock. "Annie? Did you blow through your demolition money already? Here hunting for a new... sponsor?"

Sugary tone. Venomous implication: I was here to sell myself.

Low chuckles rippled through the crowd.

Before I could retort, a strong arm circled my waist, pulling me against a firm chest.

"Ms. Pruitt is my distinguished guest." The deep voice silenced the room. "Do you have an objection, Mr. Sanchez?"

I turned and found myself drowning in eyes as dark as the ocean.

Caleb Delgado.

The apex predator of Harbor City. The man at the very tip of the pyramid. Henry's mortal enemy. And, as I'd learned too late in my past life, the silent benefactor who'd protected me from the shadows until the bitter end.

Henry's face drained of color. In this circle, wealth was power, and no one dared disrespect Caleb Delgado.

"Mr. Delgado," he stammered. "Why... why are you here?"

Caleb didn't spare him a glance. He lowered his head, his cold gaze softening as it settled on me. "Why didn't you wait for me?"

My heart skipped. Good actor, I thought. But I know an opportunity when I see one. If the most powerful man in the city was offering his arm, I wasn't letting go.

I leaned into him, hooking my arm through his as I arched a brow at Henry.

"Mr. Sanchez was just asking why I'm here." A cold smile played on my lips. "Nothing major. I came to notify you that I've signed the Deep Bay project."

The blood left Henry's face completely. His Adam's apple bobbed, but no words came.

"Impossible!" he finally shrieked. "I already discussed that with Aiden Lambert!"

I reached into my handbag and produced a contract copy, waving it before his eyes.

"My offer was thirty percent higher, paid in full." My voice was crisp. "Aiden Lambert knows which side to choose."

The hall erupted.

Paid in full. Tens of billions in liquid assets.

The crowd's gaze shifted. Mockery vanished, replaced by shock and awe.

Henry stared at the contract, eyes bloodshot. That project was his lifeline—and I'd snatched it without breaking a sweat.

Sensing the shift, Amelia grabbed a glass of red wine from a passing waiter and sashayed toward me.

"Annie is really amazing." Her voice trembled. "Let me toast to your success."

As she reached me, she stumbled—deliberate, calculated. The glass tilted, dark red liquid flying toward my chest.

The same old trick. She'd used it countless times to humiliate me while playing the clumsy innocent.

But I was no longer the Anna Pruitt who stood still and took it.

I sidestepped with practiced ease. As the wine hit the floor, I drove my heel into her knee.

"Ah!"

Amelia shrieked and dropped. Glass shattered. The wine she'd meant for me splashed across her pristine white dress.

She looked like a disaster.

"Oh my, Amy." I looked down with mock concern. "How careless. There's no need to kneel—I really can't accept such a grand gesture of submission."

Henry saw red. He rushed forward, hands raised. "Anna Pruitt! You did that on purpose!"

Before he could touch me, Caleb stepped forward, blocking his path like an immovable wall.

Caleb didn't speak, yet the glacial aura radiating from him forced Henry to freeze mid-stride.

"Mr. Sanchez, keep your woman in line." His voice was a low rumble, heavy as a judge's gavel. "If your hand slips again, I won't hesitate to ensure the Sanchez Group loses its grip on everything."

The threat hung in the air.

Henry grit his teeth, veins bulging as he fought to suppress his rage. Against Caleb Delgado, he didn't dare lash out. He could only direct a venomous glare at me.

"Anna Pruitt, just you wait! Don't think climbing into Caleb Delgado's bed means you can do whatever you want!"

Ignoring him, I plucked a glass of red wine from a passing waiter's tray and stalked toward Amelia.

Henry helped her to her feet, but her eyes remained fixed on me, filled with malice.

Splash!

I upended the glass directly over her head.

Crimson liquid drenched her hair, dripping down her face, ruining her makeup in ugly, dark rivulets.

"Ah! Anna! I'm going to kill you!" Amelia shrieked, clawing at her face.

A cold smile played on my lips as I leaned in close to her ear. "Open your eyes and look closely," I whispered. "The woman you are now isn't even fit to shine my shoes."

Without waiting for a response, I linked my arm through Caleb's. Under the shocked gazes of the city's elite, we turned and walked away.

Behind us, Henry's furious roar and Amelia's wretched wailing faded into background noise.

Outside the banquet hall, the night wind brushed cool against my skin. Caleb removed his suit jacket and draped it over my shoulders.

"Satisfied?" he asked.

I looked up at him. "This is only the beginning. That little stunt was just interest. Nowhere near enough to repay the debt of a life."

After the cocktail party, the hierarchy of Harbor City shifted.

The name Anna Pruitt became a legend whispered on everyone's lips. Conversely, Henry Sanchez became the city's biggest punchline.

The Deep Bay project was ripped from his hands, and Sanchez Group's stock plummeted to the limit the moment markets opened.

I had no intention of letting him catch his breath.

Using pocket change from the two billion, I leased a gigantic LED billboard directly across from the Sanchez Group headquarters.

Twenty-four hours a day, on endless loop, it displayed one image: my divorce certificate with Henry.

I deliberately enlarged the date and added a scrolling ticker at the bottom:

[CONGRATULATIONS TO MISS PRUITT ON HAPPILY BECOMING SINGLE. MAY YOU FOREVER STAY AWAY FROM TRASH AND ENJOY ENDLESS FORTUNE.]

The screen faced the floor-to-ceiling windows of Henry's executive office. He only had to lift his head to see his humiliation broadcast in high definition.

Rumor had it he ordered every curtain drawn and smashed two computers in blind rage.

By noon, I was at my new office, reviewing financial reports.

Bang!

The double doors burst open.

Henry charged in. Security guards trailing behind him were breathless and useless against his rampage.

"Anna! What the hell is your game?"

He stormed up to my desk, slamming both hands on the surface. His eyes were bloodshot, manic.

Unhurried, I closed the file and met his gaze. "Mr. Sanchez. Trespassing in a corporate building? I could have you arrested."

Henry stared at my indifferent expression, and his demeanor shifted. The rage evaporated, replaced by a sickening, wheedling tone.

"Annie, stop the theatrics." He leaned in, voice dropping. "I know you still have me in your heart. You're doing all this just to get my attention."

I stared at him, blinkered.

"As long as you take down that billboard and return the Deep Bay project, I'll consider cutting ties with Amelia."

Bile rose in my throat. The man's narcissism had punched through the ceiling of human logic.

"Henry, do you own a mirror?" My voice stayed flat. "You look like a stray dog that's been kicked out of the house. Just looking at you makes me nauseous."

The insult landed. The familiar violence—the brutality I knew too well—surged back into his eyes.

He rounded the desk, lunging to grab my wrist, trying to force his mouth onto mine.

"What are you pretending to be so high and mighty for? Back when you begged me in bed—"

Smack!

I backhanded him across the face.

I put my entire body weight into it, hitting him so hard my palm went numb.