Irena sat in the heavy leather chair. The study smelled of old paper, leather, and the faint scent of Evertt's sharp cologne. The room was designed to intimidate. Dark wood panels covered the walls. The desk between them was massive. While waiting for him to look up, her sharp eyes caught the edge of a financial newspaper spread out near a stack of files. The bold headline screamed about the Barton Group's unstable stock following rumors of a rift in the family.

Evertt sat behind the desk. He held a gold fountain pen between his long fingers. He spun it slowly. His dark eyes analyzed her face, looking for weakness.

Irena looked right back at him. She did not lower her chin. She did not look away.

Evertt stopped spinning the pen. He picked up a thick stack of papers from the corner of his desk. He threw the file across the smooth wood. It slid and stopped right in front of Irena.

"The terms of the prenuptial agreement remain exactly the same," Evertt said. His voice was flat. "Two years. When the time is up, we divorce. You leave."

He leaned forward. He placed his elbows on the desk. "Do not think last night changes anything. If you end up pregnant from that little stunt, you will not use a child to blackmail the Barton family. I will take the kid, and you will never see it."

Irena reached out and opened the file. The paper felt thick and expensive under her fingertips. She scanned the pages quickly. She saw the strict non-disclosure clauses. She saw the paragraphs stating she would give up all claims to Barton assets.

She let out a short, quiet laugh. She closed the file and pushed it back toward the center of the desk. "I completely agree to the two-year timeline. I want the divorce just as much as you do."

Evertt's eyebrows pulled together. A flash of surprise crossed his face. He had expected tears. He had expected her to beg for a real marriage.

"However," Irena continued, her voice steady. "I want to change the financial settlement."

Evertt's face hardened instantly. The surprise vanished, replaced by deep disgust. "There it is," he sneered. "The real reason you are sitting there. You finally show your true colors. You are just a gold digger."

Irena did not react to the insult. Her heart rate did not increase. "Call it what you want. But let us look at the facts. The Barton Group's stock has been unstable this week. I saw the financial paper on your desk. If a massive scandal about your marriage falling apart hits the news right now, your shareholders will panic. The financial loss to your company will be much higher than what I am about to ask for."

Evertt narrowed his eyes. He stared at the woman sitting across from him. She looked the same, but the way she spoke was entirely different. The pathetic, nervous girl was gone.

He leaned back in his chair. He crossed his arms over his chest. The fabric of his suit pulled tight across his biceps. "How much do you want?"

Irena raised her right hand. She held up five fingers. She stated a number. It was an astronomical figure. It was enough money to buy a small island.

Evertt let out a harsh breath through his nose. "You are greedy." He looked at her hand, then back to her face. But he knew she was right. To the Barton family, that amount of money was nothing. It was a drop in the ocean. If paying it meant getting rid of her quietly in two years, it was a good deal.

He uncrossed his arms and placed his hands flat on the desk. "Fine. I agree to the number."

Irena nodded once.

"But," Evertt added, his voice dropping an octave. "There are conditions. For the rest of these two years, you will behave perfectly. You will attend every public relations event the family requires. You will smile for the cameras. You will play the part of the happy wife. If you embarrass me once, you get nothing."

"Deal," Irena answered immediately. "I consider it a job. You pay me, I do the work. It is basic professional ethics."

Evertt felt a sudden, sharp irritation in his chest. He did not like the way she reduced their marriage to a simple business transaction. He reached out and pressed a button on the intercom sitting on his desk.

"Legal," he barked. "Bring the standard non-disclosure and settlement templates to my study immediately."

He took his finger off the button. The silence in the room became heavy. Neither of them spoke. Evertt stared at the window. Irena looked at the gold pen on the desk.

Half an hour later, a nervous man in a gray suit knocked and entered the study. He was the head of the legal department. He placed the templates on the desk. Evertt dictated the specific financial terms with sharp, clipped words while the lawyer rapidly filled in the blanks. Once finished, the lawyer slid the newly drafted, single-page document across the wood. He handed Evertt a pen.

Evertt signed his name with aggressive, sharp strokes. He pushed the paper to Irena.

Irena picked up the pen. She did not read the new document. She simply signed her name at the bottom. The scratch of the pen on the paper was the only sound in the room.

Evertt watched her hand move. His frown deepened. She was too calm. It bothered him.

Irena put the pen down. She stood up. She smoothed the front of her silk robe. She turned toward the door.

Just as her hand touched the brass doorknob, she stopped. She looked back over her shoulder. "Make sure the first installment of the money is wired to my trust account by tomorrow morning."

Evertt's jaw clenched. The muscles in his neck stood out. "Get out of my sight," he growled.

Irena shrugged her shoulders. She turned the knob, walked out of the study, and pulled the heavy doors shut behind her.

Evertt stared at the closed door. He looked down at the signed paper on his desk. His chest felt tight. He reached up and loosened his tie, pulling the silk knot down roughly. He stood up and walked over to the large floor-to-ceiling window. He looked out over the massive green lawns of the Barton estate. His anger had not disappeared. It had just changed into something darker and more confusing.

Irena walked quickly down the long hallway. She reached her room and stepped inside. She pushed the door shut and turned the lock until it clicked.

The moment the lock engaged, she let out a long breath. Her shoulders dropped. The rigid posture she had held in the study finally relaxed. She walked over to the velvet sofa near the window and sat down heavily. She pressed the heels of her hands against her temples. Her head was throbbing.

She needed to sort through the chaotic fragments of memory in her brain. She closed her eyes. The images played like a movie projected on the inside of her eyelids.

She saw the Hendricks family. It was the original owner's family. They lived in a massive stone house in the capital, but the inside was cold and rotting. She saw Eliot Hendricks, the father. He always had a glass of liquor in his hand. His eyes were always red and unfocused. He never looked at his daughter with love.

Then she saw her maternal uncle. Axel Love. He was the one who controlled the family money. The memories showed a dark, wood-paneled room. Axel was shouting about debts and empty bank accounts. He pointed a thick finger at the original Irena. He told her she was going to marry a man named Arthur Vance.

The memory shifted. Irena saw Arthur Vance. He was an old, fat merchant. His skin was sweaty. His eyes moved over the original Irena's body like she was a piece of meat. The memory brought a physical wave of nausea to Irena's stomach. She remembered the rumors. Arthur Vance had beaten his first two wives to death.

She saw the original Irena falling to her knees in front of her father. She felt the cold marble floor against her skin. She heard her own voice begging for help. Eliot Hendricks just took another drink and turned his back.

Despair filled the memory. Total, suffocating despair. The original Irena knew she would die if she married Vance. She needed a shield. She needed someone powerful enough to make the Hendricks family back off.

She chose Evertt Barton.

Irena opened her eyes. She dropped her hands to her lap. The lingering guilt she felt about taking over this body vanished. The original Irena was not a greedy woman trying to steal money. She was a terrified girl trying to survive.

Irena looked out the window at the elaborate water fountain in the courtyard. She felt a deep respect for the girl who used to own this body. "I will live a good life for both of us," she whispered to the empty room.

She stood up and walked over to the small writing desk. She opened the top drawer and pulled out a notebook with gold edges. She picked up a pencil. She needed a plan.

She pressed the pencil to the paper. First, she needed to take the massive divorce settlement and invest it. She needed to build her own businesses. Second, she had to cut all ties with the Hendricks family. They would not get a single penny from her. Third, she needed to stay quiet and invisible in the Barton estate until the two years were over.

She finished writing the last sentence. Suddenly, a loud, frantic knocking hit her bedroom door.

Irena stopped. She put the pencil down. She closed the notebook and shoved it back into the drawer. She took a deep breath, smoothing her facial expression into a blank mask.

She walked to the door and unlocked it. She pulled it open. A young maid in a black and white uniform stood there. The girl was breathing fast. Her eyes were wide with panic.

"Madam," the maid stuttered. "Miss Jada is downstairs in the main hall. She brought her daughter, Peggy. She is making a terrible scene."

Irena searched the memories in her head. Jada Wray. Evertt's cousin. A woman who loved drama and hated Irena.

"What is she doing?" Irena asked. Her voice was calm.

"She is crying to the head butler," the maid said, wringing her hands together. "She is saying that you bullied little Peggy yesterday."

Irena let out a short, cold laugh. Jada was trying to kick her while she was down. Jada thought Irena was still the weak, hated wife who would just take the abuse.

"Show me the way," Irena said. She did not hesitate. Hiding in her room would only make the servants lose respect for her.

Irena stepped out of the room. She walked down the hallway. Her low heels clicked steadily against the polished wood floor. She followed the maid to the top of the grand, sweeping staircase.

She stopped at the landing. She looked down into the massive entrance hall. The sound of a woman crying echoed off the high ceiling.

Irena stood perfectly still. She looked down at Jada Wray, who was putting on a terrible performance. Irena crossed her arms over her chest. She was ready for the fight.

Irena stood on the marble landing of the grand staircase. She looked down at the massive entrance hall. Jada Wray was standing in the center of the room. Jada held a white lace handkerchief pressed against the corner of her eye. She was sobbing loudly, complaining to the stiff-backed head butler.

Watching Jada's fake tears, a different memory forced its way into Irena's mind. It was a memory of a much larger, much more dangerous performance.

It was the night of Eleanor Barton's seventieth birthday gala. The memory was vivid. Irena felt the tight, uncomfortable fabric of an outdated borrowed dress scratching her skin. She remembered hiding behind a large marble pillar in the crowded ballroom. The air smelled of expensive perfume and roasted meat.

She saw Evertt Barton across the room. He was surrounded by politicians and wealthy businessmen. He looked untouchable.

The memory shifted. She saw her own hands shaking as she handed a thick stack of cash to a young waiter. She watched the waiter pour a colorless, potent sedative into a glass of sweet fruit wine. She watched the waiter carry the tray through the crowd. She watched Evertt take the glass and drink it.

Minutes later, Evertt rubbed his temples. His face was pale. Two large security guards escorted him out of the ballroom and up the stairs to a private lounge.

The original Irena had waited in the shadows. She counted the minutes. Then, she slipped past the security cameras. She opened the door to the lounge.

Evertt was sitting on a leather sofa. His eyes were closed. His tie was pulled loose. He was fighting the effects of the chemical.

Irena remembered the physical terror. Her stomach was in knots. She walked toward him. She grabbed the collar of her own dress and ripped the fabric down, exposing her shoulder. She messed up her hair.

Then, the door burst open.

The memory was blinding. Flashbulbs from cameras exploded like lightning in the dark room. A crowd of reporters and socialites pushed into the doorway. Irena screamed and curled into a ball on the sofa.

Evertt's eyes snapped open. The flashbulbs lit up his face. He looked at Irena. His eyes were completely dead. He looked at her like she was a corpse.

That night destroyed the original Irena's reputation. She became the biggest joke in the capital. But the plan worked. Eleanor Barton forced Evertt to marry her to stop the scandal from ruining a massive military contract. Irena got her two-year protection deal.

The memory faded. Irena blinked. Her vision focused back on the present moment. She looked at Jada. Compared to the brutal, life-or-death trap the original Irena had set, Jada's little game with a crying child was pathetic.

Irena started walking down the stairs. Her heels hit the marble steps with a sharp, rhythmic sound. Clack. Clack. Clack.

The sound cut through Jada's fake crying. Jada looked up. When she saw Irena's cold, beautiful face, Jada's eyes widened. A flash of jealousy and panic crossed her features.

Jada quickly reached behind her and pulled a small, six-year-old girl forward. This was Peggy. Jada pointed a finger up at Irena.

"Why did you do it?" Jada yelled. Her voice was shrill and loud. "Why did you break Peggy's favorite doll yesterday? You are a monster!"

The maids and footmen in the hall stopped moving. They stood against the walls, holding their breath. They were waiting to see the hated wife get humiliated again.

Irena reached the bottom of the stairs. She walked straight toward Jada. She did not look at the angry mother. Instead, she bent her knees and crouched down so she was at eye level with the little girl.

"Peggy," Irena said. Her voice was soft but carried a heavy weight. "Where were you yesterday afternoon?"

Peggy bit her bottom lip. Her small hands shook. She looked up at her mother, terrified.

Jada stepped forward and tried to block Irena. "Do not speak to my child! You are scaring her!"

Irena stood up slowly. She smoothed the fabric of her sleeve. She looked Jada directly in the eyes. Her expression was full of mockery.

"I find it very interesting that I broke a doll in the garden yesterday," Irena said clearly, making sure every servant heard her. "Especially since I was lying in my bed with a high fever all day. Dr. Hudson, the family physician, was sitting next to my bed."

Jada's face froze. The color drained from her cheeks. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. She had not checked Irena's schedule.

Before Jada could think of a lie, the heavy front doors of the mansion swung open.

A rush of cold wind blew into the hall. Evertt Barton walked in. He wore a heavy wool coat. His presence instantly sucked all the air out of the room. He stopped in his tracks, looking at the scene in front of him.