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.

I didn't hesitate. My finger found the silent alarm beneath the desk.

"I've already called the police," I said, voice ice-cold. "I'm reporting you for sexual harassment."

Before he could react, I added, "And don't bother trying to destroy the footage. The surveillance uploads directly to the cloud. You can't deny a thing."

Henry froze. The shock on his face was deeply satisfying—he hadn't expected me to be this ruthless.

Then his phone shattered the silence.

Amelia.

Even from where I stood, I could hear the hysterical wailing on the other end.

"Henry! The baby... our child is gone!"

"It's all because of Anna! She made me so angry that I... sob..."

Henry's expression shifted from shock to murderous rage. He glared at me, eyes burning with terrifying intensity.

"Anna Pruitt! If anything happens to Amelia or my child, I will make you pay with your life!"

He shoved me aside hard enough to send me stumbling and stormed out like a madman.

I steadied myself, rubbing my reddened wrist, and let out a cold sneer.

A child?

If Amelia Harding could get pregnant, pigs would fly.

I knew from my past life that her early years had been chaotic—too many back-alley abortions. She'd lost the ability to conceive years ago. This so-called "child" was nothing more than a leash to keep Henry obedient.

Perfect. The evidence had just delivered itself to my doorstep.

I gathered my things and drove straight to the hospital.

Before I even entered the ward, I could hear Amelia's shrill voice through the door.

"The doctor said it was a boy! He was already forming!"

"It's all Anna Pruitt's fault! She deliberately sent me that video to stress me out. My heart couldn't take it, and then..."

Henry sounded heartbroken, holding her close and swearing he would kill me.

I kicked the door open, a thick stack of documents in hand.

"Impressive performance." I stepped into the room. "If I didn't know better, I'd think I'd walked onto a soap opera set."

Amelia screamed, burrowing deeper into Henry's arms. "Murderer! You still have the nerve to show your face?"

Henry grabbed a glass from the bedside table, knuckles white.

I didn't flinch. Instead, I flung the documents directly into his face.

"Open your damn eyes and look."

The papers fluttered down around him.

"That's Amelia's booking record at the Haoting Hotel from last month," I said, voice cutting through the tension. "Note the companion—an unidentified male."

I pointed to another sheet. "And this is the transaction record for a fake pregnancy certificate bought on the black market."

I smirked at Amelia, whose face had gone deathly pale. "A miscarriage? The only thing she lost was a clump of air."

Henry snatched the documents, hands trembling.

The evidence was irrefutable. Timestamps, photos, transfer records—everything crystal clear. The man in the photo with Amelia looked like some cheap, third-rate model.

The silence became suffocating.

Amelia's crying stopped abruptly. She looked as if she'd seen a ghost.

"No, Henry! She photoshopped them! She's framing me!" Her voice wavered with panic.

Henry might have been a fool, but he wasn't blind.

The pedestal he'd placed Amelia on crumbled. His "white moonlight" shattered into dust. He turned to look at her with a gaze so cold it was as if he were looking at a stranger.

"You weren't pregnant?"

Dangerously quiet.

"You were looking for other men behind my back?"

"Henry, listen to me—"

"Shut up!"

They tore into each other like rabid dogs. I had no interest in watching this farce. I turned and walked out.

Just as I exited the hospital, a sleek black Maybach pulled up to the curb, blocking my path.

The rear window rolled down, revealing a face striking enough to bring the world to its knees.

Caleb Delgado.

His dark eyes locked onto mine.

"Get in. I'm taking you somewhere."

The car glided through the city toward the suburbs, eventually stopping before an old, familiar building.

The orphanage.

Confusion gnawed at me. This was where I'd grown up. Why were we here?

Caleb led me to the director's office. Director Morrison, older and frailer than I remembered, stood to greet us. With trembling hands, he pulled a yellowed ledger from a locked drawer and opened it to a faded page.

"Anna," the old man said softly. "You always believed the person sponsoring you was the young master of the Sanchez family."

He looked up at me, eyes filled with gentle truth.

"But it wasn't."

"The person who sent you money every month, who paid for your college tuition, who secretly covered your medical bills when you were sick..."

He glanced at Caleb.

"...has always been Mr. Delgado."

In my past life, I sold my soul to Henry Sanchez over a debt. He'd waved a remittance slip in my face, claiming he'd funded my education when I had nothing.

But standing there now, the truth hit like a sledgehammer. That slip wasn't his. Had he stolen credit from Caleb Delgado, or was this just another con?

I turned to Caleb.

He stood framed by the setting sun, immovable. His posture was rigid, his gaze holding carefully leashed affection.

"Why?" My voice cracked. "Why hide this from me?"

He reached out, hovering for a moment before tucking a stray lock behind my ear. "The Sanchez family was untouchable back then. I was afraid I'd drag you down." His eyes dimmed. "By the time I had the power to protect you... you were already gone."

Already gone.

Already in love with a thief. Already a shadow for a man who never existed.

Tears blurred my vision. In this life, I hadn't just loved the wrong person—I'd repaid the wrong debt. My entire tragedy was built on one grotesque lie.

I clenched my fists until nails bit flesh. Years of buried hatred erupted. Henry wouldn't just pay. He would bleed. Principal and interest—everything he owed me, everything he stole from Caleb.