"However," Logan continued, pausing to weigh his words, "I found that your mother died early, and your father's whereabouts are unknown."

He adjusted his cufflinks, avoiding my gaze. "Kate, stay at the Simmons estate for now. Use this time to hand over your duties to Peter. If our partners hear the core business is controlled by an outsider, they might terminate our agreements."

A dry laugh bubbled in my throat.

Years ago, the Simmons Group was a negligible small business in the capital. It wasn't "old money."

It was *me*.

I recruited the talent. I made the bold investments. I drank myself sick at social events to secure clients. I built this empire with my bare hands.

And they actually believed their "foundation" was the cause of their success.

I had known I was a fake heiress for a long time. The swap was my father's idea—a transaction. But according to his timeline, I wasn't supposed to leave yet. The Simmons family hadn't reached the peak from which they were destined to fall.

But if they were in such a hurry to kick me out?

Fine.

I wouldn't fight it.

I looked at the three of them fawning over Summer. It wasn't worth the ulcer.

"No need," I said, my voice steady. "Give me one week to hand over the work. Then I'll leave."

Logan blinked, stunned by my lack of resistance.

Summer seized the moment. "Sister," she sobbed, "if you don't want to see me, I can go! Even if you aren't blood-related, Mom and Dad still love you. Why do you have to say such cruel things to stab Mom in the heart?"

Katherine's face turned a mottled red. "Kate Simmons! I didn't expect you to be so ungrateful. We raised a dog for twenty years, and now it bites!"

She pointed a shaking finger at the door. "Since you're so tough, pack your things and get out! From this moment on, you are *nothing* to the Simmons family!"

At her command, the nanny began hauling my belongings out of my room.

Logan looked at his wife's hysterical state and frowned, but calculation won over sentiment. "Mrs. Snow, move Kate's things to the storage room," he ordered. "Kate, you can stay there until you find a place. We don't want neighbors gossiping that we threw you on the street."

Summer suddenly stood up, swaying theatrically. "I didn't mean to take Sister's room..."

She collapsed.

"Summer!" Peter lunged forward, catching her. He screamed for the family doctor. "What are you saying? That was *always* your room! We're just returning it to its rightful owner!"

I ignored the chaos. Walked into the storage room. Locked the door.

In the early days of my business trips, I had slept in leaking basements to save company money. A storage room was a luxury suite by comparison.

I thought Summer would be satisfied now that she had stripped me of my status and family affection.

I was wrong.

I messaged Mr. Gilbert, informing him that I was severing ties with the Simmons family and that our liaison protocols might change.

Moments later, my phone rang. Jonathan, my assistant.

"Ms. Simmons, you need to get here. Something's happened at the company—"

The line went dead.

Jonathan had been by my side for a decade. He never panicked.

Adrenaline surged through me, dulling the pain in my stomach. I grabbed my coat and sprinted for a taxi.

My CEO access card was dead.

"Ms. Simmons! You're finally here!"

Employees in the main lobby spotted me and immediately cleared a path to the service elevator. The tension in the air was thick enough to choke on.

The doors slid open on the top floor.

Chaos.

Half the core team was gone. Desks were being cleared. People carried boxes toward the exits with shell-shocked expressions, like refugees fleeing a war zone.

And in the center of the storm sat Summer Simmons.

She lounged in a chair, sipping coffee while an assistant fanned her. "Hurry up and get lost!" she barked. "You bunch of trash have been leeching off this company for years. Do you have any idea how much money you're wasting?"

She gestured wildly at the senior staff. "And you old fossils! You're over forty and still clinging to your chairs? This isn't a nursing home! Security, block the elevators! Make them take the stairs!"

My blood ran cold.

Walter Chavez—a man whose strategic mind had saved this company twice—was being shoved toward the stairwell. His bad leg buckled. He tumbled down the steps, a box of files crashing onto him.

"Walter!"

I rushed forward, shoving aside the debris.

"Hey!" A new security guard—one I didn't recognize—spat on the floor. "Trying to pull a scam? Don't you know who I am? I'm the captain of the security team!"

I checked Walter. Abrasions, but conscious. I stood up, fury vibrating through my chest.

"Who the hell are you? Since when do thugs run security here?"

The guard raised his baton, ready to strike, but paused when he saw my face. Recognition flickered in his eyes—not respect. Malice. He signaled his buddies. They grabbed my arms, dragging me toward Summer.

Summer set down her coffee, cruel delight dancing in her eyes. "Well, well. If it isn't the cuckoo who stole the nest."

She looked me up and down. "You pitiful little worm. Now that I'm back, you can join this group of cripples and get the hell out."

Gone was the fragile victim from the villa. This was pure, unadulterated entitlement.

I turned my head. Jonathan stood nearby, a bright red handprint searing his cheek.

I wrenched against the guards' grip. "Do you have *any* idea what you're doing? You're gutting this company!" I shouted. "Let me go and rehire these people immediately!"

Summer scoffed. "You? Command *me*?" She jerked her chin toward the stairs. "That old geezer—is he your lover?"

She made a gagging noise. "So *that's* why you refused the marriage alliance. You have a thing for geriatrics? God, Sister, your tastes are disgusting."

Before I could retort, the elevator doors pinged.

A group of men in sharp suits strode in.

"Which one of you is Ms. Simmons?" the lead man asked.

He surveyed the chaotic scene, his brow furrowing in distaste. "Mr. Gilbert stated he will only cooperate with Miss Simmons. Wherever Miss Simmons goes, this contract follows."

Summer didn't recognize the man, but she heard the magic word.

*Gilbert.*

The richest family in the capital. The marriage alliance her parents coveted. She had overheard her father on the phone yesterday—Mr. Gilbert had personally set up a meeting after hearing the Simmons name.

It had to be because of her.

He was interested.

Summer waved her hand frantically. "That's me! I'm Miss Simmons!"

Paul Walker, Mr. Gilbert's executive assistant, studied her. He hadn't expected the office to look like a war zone, but his orders were specific: deliver the offer to the woman running the show.

He walked over and handed the draft contract to Summer.

"Miss Simmons," Paul said, his tone professional. "If there is still room to salvage the situation, you are welcome at the Gilbert Group."

He adjusted his glasses. "The compensation will match or exceed your current package. If you are willing, you can start immediately as a Vice President. Mr. Gilbert believes that even if you parachute in, your capabilities will silence any doubters."

Summer clutched the document, her eyes widening in triumph.

She completely missed the fact that the offer was for a business executive.

Not a socialite bride.

Summer Simmons drank in the praise like champagne, her ego swelling with every honeyed word. In her mind, Mr. Gilbert was already on his knees, desperate to claim her for the Gilbert dynasty.

I went cold.

The day I'd cut ties with the Simmons family, I hadn't just contacted the Gilbert Group. I'd notified every major partner of my departure.

Their response had been unanimous: *We follow you, Ms. Simmons. Wherever you go.*

Headhunters had descended like vultures—double salaries, triple, corner offices with skyline views. I'd turned them all down. My sights were set on one target.

Colin Gilbert.

I'd approached him directly. Told him I wanted in on his empire.

He'd agreed without hesitation. Said he'd send an assistant to handle the transition.

This man must be him.

I thrashed against the bodyguards, desperate to speak—but before a single syllable left my lips, Summer's palm cracked across my face.

The force sent me sprawling. My skull bounced off the marble. A metallic flood filled my mouth as blood welled from my split lip. The world spun in ink-black swirls, my brain struggling to reboot.

Paul Walker took a deliberate step back, nose wrinkling.

He clearly hadn't expected the woman Mr. Gilbert valued so highly to be this unhinged. This *brutal.*

Summer sneered down at me. "Useless parasite. It's bad enough you drag the whole family down—now you're trying to seduce Mr. Gilbert's people?"

Paul's gaze slid toward me. Contempt hardened his features.

Summer noticed the shift immediately. Her eyes welled with tears on command. Her posture crumpled into something fragile and pitiful.

"Assistant Walker, I'm so sorry you had to witness that." A delicate sniffle. "I've made a complete fool of myself."

She dabbed at her cheek. "I'm just so *angry.* This woman... she relied on my parents' sponsorship to latch onto our family like a leech. Used her poverty to manipulate their pity. Stole the love and care that should have been *mine.*"

Paul's jaw tightened.

Mr. Gilbert had mentioned that Miss Simmons had suffered greatly—the reason for her sudden resignation.

*So this woman is the cause.*

He helped Summer back into her chair.

The black spots in my vision finally receded. That was the first thing I saw.

"You will regret this." My voice came out shredded, barely human.

I ignored Summer's smirk and locked onto the assistant. "Assistant Walker. I don't know what instructions Mr. Gilbert gave you—but I suggest you ask one simple question."

A beat.

"What is Miss Simmons's *full name*?"

Paul paused. The request struck him as odd.

He didn't know Miss Simmons's first name—only that the Simmons family had publicly acknowledged one son and one daughter. Mr. Gilbert's long-time partner had always been the eldest Miss Simmons.

He stepped aside and pulled out his phone.

Seeing that I still had fight left, Summer grabbed a cup of scalding coffee from the desk.

And threw it over my hand.

I *screamed.*

Liquid fire blistered my skin. Before I could make another sound, a hand clamped over my mouth from behind, muffling my cries into desperate, animal whimpers.

"You won't stop until you're completely broken, will you?" Summer hissed against my ear. "Fine. Don't blame me for what happens next."

She pulled out her phone. Initiated a video call.

The image on the screen turned my blood to ice.

Duoduo.

My three-legged calico kitten. The only keepsake I had left from my biological father.

I hadn't dared bring him to the Simmons estate. I'd rented a small apartment, hired a pet sitter—thought he would be *safe.*

I never imagined she would hunt him down.

"Duoduo!" I screamed at the screen.

Hearing my voice, the kitten thrashed violently. His claws raked the handler's arm. The man yelped—and flung the small body to the ground.

A shrill meow of pain ripped through the speaker.

"Summer!" My throat tore. "*What do you want?!*"

She tilted the phone toward me, a cruel smile curling her lips.

"You tell me. Should I smash this beast's legs... or roast him alive?"

Paul returned.

"Miss Simmons, Mr. Gilbert says he will handle everything that occurred today. He hopes this incident won't affect your mood."

Summer beamed. Her delusion cemented into fact: *Mr. Gilbert has fallen in love with me at first sight.*

She looked at the screen.

And issued a command that stopped my heart.

"Burn it."

I watched in horror as Duoduo was kicked into a room. The door slammed shut behind him.