KLOE POV:

A high-pitched, inhuman scream tore from Delano Castro's throat.

He scrambled off me, clutching his groin as his body curled onto the floor, folding into a tight ball. Beads of sweat clung to his forehead, plastering his dark hair against his skin. He gasped for breath, his face twisted into a mask of agony.

I rolled off the bed and put distance between us. My limbs trembled uncontrollably, the drugs still lingering in my system, while memories from my previous life flashed through my mind like shards of broken glass—cold, sharp, and painfully clear.

I curled my fingers, feeling the strength of a fifteen-year-old girl's body. A body that had never been starved, beaten, or broken. A body capable of fighting back.

"You bitch!" Delano choked out between ragged breaths. "How dare a worthless piece of trash like you do this to me? My family will never let you get away with it!"

A smile without warmth touched my lips. I walked to the bedside table and picked up the heavy crystal ashtray. It felt solid and satisfying in my palm.

I moved toward him, my heels sinking into the soft carpet. Every quiet step seemed to echo through the silent room, like the ticking countdown to the end of his arrogance.

The ashtray rose high into the air, and as it came down, his threats turned into whimpers. His eyes, wide with pain and fear, finally realized that the girl standing before him was not the timid, fragile Kloe Howe from the rumors.

I knelt beside him, the cold crystal ashtray pressed against his sweat-soaked cheek. I gently tapped his face with it.

"Who sent you?" I asked, my voice low and steady.

His eyes darted frantically around the room, looking anywhere but at me. He feared Candace more than he feared me, so he would never willingly expose her.

Unfortunately, he had made the wrong choice.

I didn't waste another word. I slammed the ashtray onto the floor beside his head. The crystal exploded apart with a sound like a gunshot. A transparent shard grazed his ear, leaving behind a thin line of blood.

He convulsed violently, and a pathetic scream escaped his mouth.

"Candace!" he sobbed. "It was Candace's plan! She wanted to humiliate you!"

I already knew that, just like last time. But this time, the rules of the game had changed completely.

I glanced at the clock running on the mantelpiece. I didn't have much time left. Candace and her audience could arrive at any moment.

I stood and walked to the full-length mirror. My reflection stared back at me—young, vibrant, with green eyes burning with a vitality I had not possessed for years. I quickly smoothed down my dress and pulled the torn corset together as best I could. I ran my fingers through my hair, messing it up until it looked like I had been frightened.

I turned to look at the groveling worm on the floor and let out a contemptuous snort.

"Your jacket," I ordered. "Take it off."

He fumbled clumsily with the buttons, his hands shaking so badly that he couldn't undo them. Impatiently, I tore the jacket off him myself. Using one of the decorative cords from the curtains, I tightly bound his hands behind his back. Then I ripped a strip from the linen bedsheets and stuffed it into his mouth, silencing his whimpering.

I had just finished when I heard hurried footsteps echoing down the hallway. Arriving before Candace herself was her shrill voice filled with fake concern.

"My sister! Are you in there? I heard you weren't feeling well!"

A cold smile of triumph appeared on my face. I let it linger for a single second before wiping every trace of emotion away.

I walked toward the door and listened carefully.

The doorknob rattled violently, and it was locked. Good.

The knocking grew more frantic, and the voice more urgent.

"Kloe! Open the door! Are you okay?" It was Jesse Ellis, Candace's loyal lapdog.

I took a deep breath and controlled my expression. I summoned every fear I had ever felt, every moment of helplessness I had endured. I let it wash over me completely, filling my eyes with unshed tears and making my body tremble.

I disguised myself as a frightened prey animal.

The door shuddered as a shoulder slammed into it from the other side.

I stepped backward and pressed myself against the far wall. I drew my knees to my chest, making myself look small and vulnerable.

The door burst open with the sound of splintering wood.

Candace charged inside, her crowd of sycophantic followers close behind her. Their faces were a mixture of fake concern and greedy anticipation, eager to witness the humiliation of the most prestigious princess of the Howe family.

But what awaited them was nothing like what they had expected.

They saw me, my clothes mostly intact, curled up in a corner and trembling with "fear."

And on the floor, they saw Delano Castro—bound, gagged, and writhing silently in pain.

KLOE POV:

The triumphant smile on Candace's face froze, melting into a mask of shock and disbelief. Her gaze darted from the bound Delano on the floor to me curled up in the corner. This was nothing like what she had planned.

Jesse Ellis came to an abrupt halt behind her, his jaw slack. The party guests craned their necks forward, whispering among themselves in confusion.

Now it was my turn to perform.

I let out a choked sob and scrambled to my feet, rushing toward the crowd until I found an older, elegant woman—Lady Annabelle—and clutched her arm as though it were a lifeline.

"That man..." I cried, my voice shaking so badly that anyone who heard it would have pitied me. Still trembling with shock, I pointed toward Delano. "He broke into my room! He wanted to... he wanted to hurt me!"

Every eye in the room turned toward Delano. He struggled against his restraints, his muffled grunts sounding more like a confession than a protest.

Candace recovered instantly. She was, after all, a performer. She rushed to my side, her expression perfectly painted with sisterly concern.

"Oh, Kloe, my poor sister, don't be afraid. We're here now," Candace said softly, reaching out as if to comfort me. "Please tell us what happened. I'll make sure Father understands everything."

Her voice was gentle enough to drip with sweetness, but the flash of malice and mockery in her eyes did not escape me.

I recoiled from her touch as though avoiding a branding iron.

Then, in the dead silence, I did something the old Kloe would never have dared to imagine. I drew back my hand and slapped my stepsister across the face.

The sharp crack of my palm against her cheek echoed through the silent room like thunder.

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

Candace stared at me, one hand flying to her reddening cheek. Her blue eyes widened with humiliation and shock, and for the first time, real tears welled within them.

"And you still have the nerve to ask me what happened?" My voice was hoarse and ragged, filled with anger that required no performance. "Candace, did you already know I was in danger? Otherwise, how do you explain the timing of this 'coincidence'? And this carefully staged rescue performance?"

I turned toward the guests, my voice growing louder. "I was resting in my room. Why did my stepsister bring an entire crowd to break down my door?"

The whispers grew louder, now laced with suspicion. They looked toward Candace with scrutinizing eyes, their doubts multiplying.

I pressed the advantage, fixing my gaze on her. "Candace, did you already know I was in danger? Otherwise, how do you explain the timing of this 'coincidence'? And this carefully staged rescue performance?"

She opened her mouth, but not a single word came out. Cornered, all of her disguises had been ripped away. "I... I was just worried about you," she finally stammered, slipping back into the role of the innocent victim. "I heard you'd disappeared from the party..."

"Worried?" I let out a sharp, incredulous laugh. "Worried enough to break down a locked door? Is this how the Howe Pack treats its guests? Or do you believe that, as the Alpha's daughter, I don't deserve even a moment of privacy?"

I was using the title Father had once used to suppress me as both my shield and my sword. I noticed several older pack members nodding in agreement. In a wolf pack, privacy and rules mattered deeply, and Candace had clearly violated both.

Jesse Ellis, as always playing the role of the white knight, stepped forward quickly. "Kloe! How can you be so cruel to Candace? She was only trying to help!" His voice was full of accusation, as though I were the unreasonable one.

My gaze snapped toward him, cold and contemptuous. "And you, Mr. Ellis. What role are you playing in this little performance? If I remember correctly, this is my private room. You shouldn't even be here."

Cold logic only made their behavior appear more suspicious.

Turning my back on them, I strode toward Delano. With one sharp yank, I tore the gag from his mouth.

"Speak," I commanded, my voice leaving no room for defiance. "Tell them who sent you."

Delano gasped for air, his eyes darting around wildly with fear. He looked first at my cold, resolute expression, then toward Candace, his voice trembling with tears. "I... I can't say..."

I saw the silent exchange and seized upon it instantly.

"What are the two of you looking at?" I demanded sharply, pointing between them. "Delano, what are you afraid of? Did Candace threaten you?"

The crowd erupted into murmurs. Candace's face turned pale.

The seed of suspicion had already been planted. I watched the guests whisper among themselves, their eyes filled with distrust toward Candace. Delano's reaction had already said everything. I didn't need him to confess it aloud.

All I needed was for that seed to take root within the pack.

That slap was not only revenge for the pain she had caused me, but also my formal declaration of war against her and everyone who had ever hurt me.

The flawless mask she believed to be perfect had finally developed its very first crack.