Gisele woke up in a motel room that smelled of stale cigarettes. The earpiece was still in her ear. She had listened to them all night. The planning. The lies. Evander's weak protests that were always silenced by Daneen's manipulation.

If she shows up, Daneen had said around 2 AM, security has orders. Shoot to kill? No, just break her legs so she can't walk the carpet.

No violence, Evander had snapped. Just keep her out.

Gisele sat up. Keep her out.

She checked the gala website. Tickets were sold out. The guest list was locked. Her name was undoubtedly on the blacklist.

She needed a way in. A way that Evander couldn't block.

She opened her wallet. Hidden behind her driver's license was a black metal card. It had no name, just a series of numbers and an embossed symbol of a double-headed eagle.

Five years ago, when Evander had been in a car accident and needed a specialized surgery, she had sought out funding from a high-risk private equity firm. A man there had saved Evander financially when the insurance failed, but he had asked for a favor in return. A favor she had never redeemed.

She dialed the number.

It rang once.

Yes? The voice was calm, professional, yet carried an undertone of immense power.

It's Gisele Mueller.

Silence. Then, the voice returned. "Ms. Mueller. You finally called."

I need a ticket to the Mathews Gala tonight.

That is a fortress, Ms. Mueller. The price has gone up.

I don't care about the price, Gisele said. Get me in. And I need a dress. Something that screams war.

A low chuckle resonated through the phone. 7:00 PM. Alley behind the motel. Look for the Bentley.

Gisele hung up. Her hands were shaking. She had just made a deal with the devil to kill a demon.

At 7:00 PM, the Bentley rolled into the alley. The window slid down. A gloved hand passed out a garment bag and a heavy cream envelope.

Gisele opened the envelope. A VIP invitation. Name: Ms. Vengeance.

She opened the bag. The dress was red. Not just red-it was the color of fresh arterial blood. It was silk, backless, with a slit that went up to her hip.

She put it on. It fit like a second skin. It was armor.

She looked in the mirror. The short hair. The red dress. The cold eyes. Gisele Mueller was dead. This was someone else.

At the gala, the atmosphere was tense. Xavier was sweating, checking his headset. Perimeter secure, Mr. Mathews. No sign of her.

Evander stood at the entrance, adjusting his cufflinks. He looked pale. Daneen was beside him, glowing in a white gown that Gisele had designed for a bride. Stolen.

The Bentley pulled up to the curb. It ignored the valet line and stopped right on the red carpet.

The door opened.

A red stiletto hit the pavement.

The flashbulbs went off like a supernova. A wall of blinding white light.

Gisele stepped out of the car. The silence that followed was louder than the applause had been for Daneen.

She walked. She didn't hurry. Every step was calculated. The red dress flowed around her like liquid fire. Her chin was high, her short hair catching the wind.

Evander saw her first. His jaw went slack. He took a step forward, instinct taking over, before he remembered who he was holding.

Daneen's grip on his arm tightened until her nails dug through his suit jacket. What is she doing here? she hissed. Get rid of her.

Gisele stopped three feet in front of them. The cameras were eating it up. The wife vs. the mistress. The white vs. the red.

Hello, sister, Gisele said. Her voice was calm, amplified by the sudden hush of the crowd.

Gisele, go home, Evander said, his voice straining to be low. You are making a scene.

A scene? Gisele smiled. I'm just here to admire the work.

She turned to the cameras, posing. She raised her left arm to smooth her hair. The movement revealed a diamond bracelet on her wrist. It was intricate, a lattice of gold and gems that looked like a sunburst.

A reporter gasped. That's the Eclipse! The prototype Sunny was rumored to be wearing!

Daneen's eyes went wide. That's mine! she shrieked, forgetting her poise. She stole it!

The cameras swung to Daneen.

Gisele didn't flinch. Stole it? That's a serious accusation. If it's yours, Daneen, surely you know how to open it?

Daneen faltered. Of course I do. It's... a clasp.

Show us, Gisele challenged. She extended her wrist.

Daneen reached out. Her hands were shaking. She fumbled with the bracelet, pulling at it, twisting it. It didn't budge.

It's stuck! Daneen cried. She glued it shut!

Gisele sighed. She pulled her arm back. She pressed a tiny, hidden gemstone on the underside of the setting. Click. The bracelet sprang open, detaching from her wrist. She held it up. Then, she twisted the center stone. The bracelet folded in on itself, transforming into a brooch.

The crowd gasped.

Design is about function, Daneen, Gisele said softly. Not just sparkle.

Daneen's face crumbled. She swayed, her hand going to her forehead. Evander! I... I feel faint. My blood sugar...

She collapsed into Evander's arms. It was a perfect faint. Rehearsed.

Evander caught her, glaring at Gisele with pure venom. Are you happy now? You hurt her.

Gisele looked at the man she had loved. I didn't touch her, Evander. The truth just weighs a lot.

Security! Evander yelled.

Four large men in black suits pushed through the press. They surrounded Gisele.

Evander pointed a shaking finger at her. She stole that jewelry. She is trespassing. Remove her. And search her bag.

Gisele clutched her small clutch. The hard drive wasn't in there-the virus was already planted-but her dignity was.

Evander, stop, Gisele said, her voice wavering for the first time. Don't do this.

You gave me no choice, he said coldly. He turned his back on her to attend to Daneen, who was now peeking through her eyelashes.

The head of security grabbed Gisele's arm. Come with us, Miss.

No. Gisele tried to pull away. I have an invitation.

The guard yanked her. The movement was rough. She stumbled in her heels.

Thief! someone in the crowd shouted.

Jealous ex! shouted another.

The narrative was shifting. Daneen was the victim. Gisele was the crazy aggressor.

Gisele reached into her bag and pulled out a folded piece of paper. It was a notarized copy of the original copyright filing for the Sunny brand, dated three years ago.

Read this! she shouted to the reporters. Look at the date!

Daneen saw the paper. She miraculously recovered from her faint. She lunged.

No! She's crazy! That's a forgery!

Daneen grabbed the paper. She ripped it from Gisele's hand. In the struggle, Daneen's long, manicured nails raked across Gisele's arm, drawing blood.

Ah! Gisele cried out.

Daneen tore the paper in half, then into quarters, throwing the confetti onto the red carpet. She stomped on it with her white heels.

See? Trash! Daneen screamed.

Evander stood there. He watched Daneen assault Gisele. He watched the blood welling on Gisele's arm. He did nothing. He just shielded Daneen from the cameras.

Gisele looked at him. The man who promised to protect her.

You are a coward, she whispered.

The guard grabbed her other arm. He twisted it behind her back. Let's go.

Gisele struggled. The guard was too strong. He dragged her backward.

Suddenly, a shadow fell over them. A man stood up from the front row of the VIP section. He was tall, wearing a black trench coat that seemed to absorb the light. He hadn't moved until now.

Farrell Pennington. The Investor.

He didn't shout. He just walked onto the carpet. The crowd parted for him like the Red Sea. He had an aura of violence that made the security guards hesitate.

He stopped ten feet away. He looked at Gisele, then at the guard holding her.

Let go, he said. His voice was barely a whisper, but it carried.

The guard frowned. Who are you?

Farrell didn't answer. He just took one step forward. The guard released Gisele instantly, as if he had been burned.

Gisele fell to her knees, gasping.