White stone pillars, manicured hedges that looked plastic, and a driveway filled with Bentleys and Rolls Royces. The gala was in full swing.

Inside the ballroom, Candi Alvarado held court. She wore a pink tulle dress that cost more than a small house, but it did nothing to hide the cruelty in her eyes. She was surrounded by her entourage, a gaggle of socialites who laughed on cue.

"Can you believe she's back?" Candi said loudly, sipping champagne. "I heard she's living in a motel in Queens. Probably spent all her allowance on burgers."

The group tittered.

In the corner, Bella White shrank against the wall. She was holding a glass of water, trying to be invisible. Her family's pharmaceutical supply company was failing, and Francis was their last hope for a contract.

Candi spotted her. Her eyes lit up.

"Oh look, it's the whale's pilot fish," Candi sneered, leading her group toward Bella.

Bella flinched. "Hello, Candi. Happy birthday."

"Save it," Candi snapped. "Where is she? Did she roll here? Or did she get stuck in the doorway?"

"Kat isn't... she isn't like that anymore," Bella stammered.

"Please," Candi scoffed. She snapped her fingers. A projector screen lowered from the ceiling behind the small stage. "I prepared a little slideshow. A tribute to my dear sister."

A photo appeared on the massive screen. It was Katarina from five years ago, mid-bite into a sandwich, looking swollen and miserable.

The room erupted in laughter.

"Look at that," Candi laughed. "Disgusting. She was a disgrace to the name."

Bella's eyes filled with tears. She stared at the floor, wishing it would open up and swallow her.

BOOM.

The double oak doors at the entrance of the ballroom were thrown open with enough force that they bounced off the walls.

The music died. The laughter choked off.

A silhouette stood in the doorway, backlit by the foyer lights. A long trench coat billowed around the figure.

Click. Click. Click.

The sound of heels on the marble floor echoed in the sudden silence.

The woman reached up and undid the belt of her coat. She shrugged it off, letting the expensive fabric fall to the floor for a servant to catch.

Gasps rippled through the room.

She wore a black dress that defied physics. It clung to every curve, slashed high on the thigh, low on the back. Her skin was luminous, glowing under the chandeliers. Her hair cascaded down her back like a dark river.

She didn't look at the crowd. She walked straight toward the stage.

"Who is that?" a man whispered.

"Is that a celebrity?"

Candi's smile faltered. She squinted. The woman walked with a confidence that Candi had never possessed.

The woman stopped in front of Bella. She reached out a hand, her fingers long and elegant. She gently lifted Bella's chin.

"Chin up, B," the woman said. Her voice was smoky, rich. "Your crown is slipping."

Bella stared. She looked into those eyes-the only thing that hadn't changed.

"Kat?" Bella breathed.

The whisper carried.

"Kat?" Candi shrieked. "That's impossible!"

Katarina turned slowly to face her stepsister. The movement was fluid, lethal. She looked at Candi the way a lion looks at a limping gazelle.

"Hello, Candi," Katarina said. "Happy birthday."

"You... you..." Candi stuttered, pointing a shaking finger. "You're a fake! You had surgery! Liposuction! You're still a pig inside!"

Katarina laughed. It was a cold, sharp sound. She walked over to the projector controls. She hit a button, killing the image of her past self.

"I see you've kept my old photos," Katarina said, walking toward Candi. "Sentimental."

"Get out!" Candi screamed. "Daddy! Get her out!"

Francis Alvarado emerged from the crowd. He stopped dead when he saw Katarina. His eyes didn't show love; they showed calculation. He saw the beauty, the power, the potential market value.

"Katarina," Francis said, spreading his arms. "My daughter."

"Don't," Katarina said, holding up a hand. She didn't stop walking toward Candi.

She bent down and picked up a stack of the printed photos Candi had left on a table.

Auston Mcmahon pushed through the crowd. He stopped next to Francis, his jaw practically on the floor. He stared at Katarina with a hunger that was palpable.

"Kat?" Auston breathed. "My god."

Katarina ignored him. She stood toe-to-toe with Candi. Candi was wearing heels, but Katarina still seemed to tower over her.

"You like these photos so much?" Katarina asked softly.

She raised the stack of photos.

"Eat them."

---

Candi stared at Katarina, her mouth opening and closing like a fish. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," Katarina said. Her voice was calm, which made it terrifying. "You've spent five years feeding on my misery. Now, you can feed on the evidence."

Katarina moved. It was a blur. One hand shot out and gripped Candi's jaw, forcing it open with a strength that shocked the onlookers. With the other hand, she shoved the crumpled ball of photos into Candi's mouth.

"Eat," Katarina hissed.

Candi gagged. She clawed at Katarina's hand, but it was like clawing at iron. Katarina held her there for three agonizing seconds, letting the humiliation sink into Candi's bones.

Then she released her.

Candi fell back, spitting out the wet paper, coughing and retching. Her mascara ran down her face. She looked ruined.

"You maniac!" Elena, Candi's mother, shrieked, rushing forward. "I'm calling the police!"

"Call them," Katarina said, wiping her hand on a napkin she plucked from a passing waiter's tray. "I'd love to show them the forensic accounting of what you've done to my trust fund."

Francis stepped in, grabbing Elena's arm. "Quiet, Elena." He turned to Katarina, a greasy smile plastered on his face. "Katarina, let's not make a scene. We are family. Come to the study."

He gestured to the bodyguards to clear a path.

Katarina threw the napkin on the floor. "Fine."

She walked to the study, her heels clicking a death march. Francis, Elena, Candi (still sobbing), and Auston followed.

Inside the mahogany-paneled study, Francis closed the door.

"You look... healthy," Francis said, sitting behind his desk. "Investable."

"Cut the crap, Francis," Katarina said, leaning against the doorframe. "I want my mother's shares. I want the DreamLeaf patent rights. And I want full access to my trust."

Francis chuckled. He pulled a document from a drawer. "You get nothing. Unless..." He slid the paper across the desk. "You sign this. It reinstates you into the family. It gives you a monthly allowance. And it betroths you to Auston."

Auston stepped forward, adjusting his tie. He looked at Katarina like a prize horse. "It's a good deal, Kat. We were good together. And look at you now. You're finally worthy of the Mcmahon name."

Katarina looked at Auston. She looked at the contract.

She walked over to the desk. She picked up the contract.

"Worthy?" she repeated.

She ripped the paper in half. Then in quarters. She let the confetti rain down on Francis's desk.

"I don't want an allowance," Katarina said. "I want it all. And as for you, Auston... I wouldn't marry you if you were the last man on earth and I was ovulating."

Francis's face turned purple. "You ungrateful brat! You think you can walk in here and dictate terms? You have no power! You are nothing but a discarded vessel!"

He slammed his hand on a button under his desk. Two large security guards entered from a side door.

"Escort her to the basement," Francis ordered. "She stays there until she signs a new copy."

The guards moved toward her. Big men. Slow men.

The first one reached for her arm.

Katarina didn't retreat. She stepped into his space. She grabbed his wrist, twisting her hips to generate torque, and drove her elbow into his solar plexus with a sickening thud. It was a military-grade takedown, executed with the precision of a surgeon.

The man folded like a lawn chair.

The second guard swung a fist. Katarina ducked, sweeping his leg out from under him. As he fell, she didn't just let gravity do the work; she delivered a controlled kick to his temple to ensure he stayed down.

It took five seconds.

Katarina stood over them, not even breathing hard. She adjusted her dress.

The silence in the room was absolute. Auston looked terrified and aroused. Francis stared at her, his eyes narrowing. He looked from the unconscious guards to his daughter's relaxed stance. Where had the fat, wheezing girl learned to fight like a mercenary?

"I see you've been busy," Francis murmured, a new layer of caution in his voice.

"I learned a few things while I was away," Katarina said.

Candi, huddled in a chair, found her voice. It was shrill and venomous.

"You're just a thug!" Candi screamed. "A thug with a bastard child! Where is it? Did it die? Or did you throw it away like trash?"

Katarina froze. The air in the room dropped ten degrees.

She turned her head slowly toward Candi. Her eyes were black pits.

"What did you say?"

"I said," Candi sneered, emboldened by her own stupidity, "where is the little bastard?"

Katarina moved. She crossed the room in a blink. She grabbed Candi by the throat and pinned her against the bookshelf. Books tumbled down, hitting Candi on the head.

"Mention my child again," Katarina whispered, her face inches from Candi's, "and I will dismantle you. Bone by bone."

---

"Kat!" Bella's voice came from the hallway door, panicked. "Stop! You'll kill her!"

Katarina blinked. The red haze in her vision cleared slightly. She looked at Candi's bulging eyes. She wasn't worth the prison time.

She released her grip.

Candi slid down the bookshelf, gasping for air, clutching her throat.

Francis grabbed his heavy wooden cane and raised it. "You animal!" He swung it at Katarina's head.

Katarina didn't flinch. She caught the cane mid-swing with one hand. The impact stung her palm, but she didn't show it.

She looked her father in the eye. "You used to hit me with this when I was twelve. When I was too slow. Too fat."

She gripped the wood with both hands and snapped it over her knee.

CRACK.

She threw the pieces at his feet.

"I'm not twelve anymore, Francis."

She turned and walked out of the study. Auston scrambled out of her way, pressing himself against the wall.

Katarina marched through the ballroom. The crowd parted like the Red Sea. No one spoke. They just stared at the goddess of war passing through.

She walked out the front door, down the steps. The cool night air hit her flushed skin. Her hands were shaking. Not from fear, but from the adrenaline crash.

A black SUV pulled up. Solo.

She got in. "Drive."

Inside the car, she leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes. "Did you get the data?"

"While you were putting on a show, I hacked their local server," Solo said from the front seat. "We have the ledger. Francis has been embezzling from the trust for years."

"Good," Katarina whispered. "Burn him."

They drove back to the city in silence.

When they reached the St. Regis, Katarina felt heavy. Her bones ached. She just wanted to hold Kaylee.

She entered the elevator. Just as the doors were closing, a hand stopped them.

Dimitri Shaffer stepped in.

Katarina groaned internally. Of all the people. Of all the times.

The doors closed, sealing them in the small, mirrored box.

Dimitri stood with his hands in his pockets, looking straight ahead. He smelled of cedar and expensive scotch.

"I hear you had an eventful evening," Dimitri said. His voice was low, vibrating in the small space.

"News travels fast," Katarina muttered, leaning against the rail. She was too tired to fight.

"Assault. Property damage. Threats." Dimitri turned his head to look at her. His eyes swept over her disheveled hair, the redness on her neck where adrenaline had flushed her skin. "You are a chaotic woman, Ms. Acosta."

"And you are a judgmental prick, Mr. Shaffer," she shot back.

Dimitri stepped closer. He invaded her personal space. He loomed over her.

"I don't care what you do to your family," he said. "But I meant what I said last night. Stay away from my son. I saw you in the hallway. I know what you are."

"What am I?" Katarina challenged, looking up at him.

"A gold digger," Dimitri said coldly. "A woman who uses her body and her drama to trap men. I won't let you use my son as a pawn to get to me."

Katarina felt a laugh bubble up in her chest. It was hysterical.

"Get to you?" She poked him in the chest with a manicured finger. "Shaffer, you have nothing I want. Your money? I have my own. Your power? I'm building mine. Your personality? It sucks."

Dimitri looked down at her finger on his chest. He looked surprised. Most women trembled when he got this close. Katarina looked bored.

"And as for your son," she added, her voice softening involuntarily. "He deserves better than a father who thinks everyone is out to get him."

The elevator dinged. Penthouse floor.

Katarina pushed past him. "Goodnight, neighbor."

She walked down the hall.

Dimitri stood in the elevator for a moment before stepping out. He touched his chest where she had poked him. It burned.

---