The flames were hot enough to melt her skin, but the betrayal hurt even more. "Please... help me!" Dayla Stanford pounded against the locked door, her fingers bleeding as smoke filled her lungs. The fire spread across the room, devouring the curtains, furniture, and everything she had ever owned. Outside, two familiar figures watched. Her fiancé, Adrian Cole, stood beside her stepsister, Vanessa Stanford. The same man who had promised to love her forever now looked at her with cold indifference. The same sister who had cried in her arms pretended not to hear her screams. "Adrian!" Dayla screamed. "Please! We can talk about this! I'll give you whatever you want!" Adrian adjusted his expensive watch. "That's the problem, Dayla. You always think everything can be solved by talking." Vanessa laughed softly. "Don't waste your breath, sister. Nobody is coming to save you." Dayla stared at her, struggling to understand. "Vanessa... why?" "Why?" Vanessa repeated, stepping closer to the door. "Because you have everything! Father's properties, his money, his reputation. Even after his death, you still get everything while I have to stand in your shadow." "I never stopped you from having anything!" "Really?" Vanessa's smile turned cruel. "Then why does everyone call you the Stanford heiress? Why does everyone respect you? Why is Adrian engaged to you instead of me?" Dayla's heart shattered. She turned toward Adrian, hoping-desperately hoping-that he would deny it all. "Tell her she's lying," she whispered. "Adrian, please." He finally looked at her. "I was never in love with you." The words hurt more than the burning air. "What?" "I wanted your father's properties. Marrying you was the easiest way to get them. Unfortunately, you kept refusing to sign the documents." Dayla remembered the papers he had asked her to sign. He had called them routine business agreements. She had trusted him enough to consider signing without questioning everything. Her knees weakened. "You were going to marry me..." "For your money," he interrupted. "Don't make it sound romantic." Vanessa slipped her hand into his. Dayla felt sick. "How long?" she asked. Adrian shrugged. "Long enough." "And my brother? What happens to him?" For the first time, Adrian's expression changed. "Your brother will be fine as long as he stays out of our business." "Don't you dare touch him!" Dayla threw herself against the door, but the flames surged higher. Vanessa stepped back. "Goodbye, Dayla." The door closed. Dayla screamed until her voice disappeared beneath the crackling fire. As the smoke swallowed the room, one thought remained in her mind. I trusted the wrong people. Then another face appeared in her fading consciousness. A man she had never met. A man who had listened to her through countless late-night conversations. Her anonymous online friend. Luthur: If the world ever turns against you, remember that you can still choose who you become. Dayla had laughed when he sent those words. She had told him that life was not a movie and that people like them did not get second chances. Now, with death closing around her, she wished she had asked him more questions. She wished she had known his real name. She wished she had told him how much he meant to her. Her phone lay several feet away, its screen cracked but still glowing. With the last strength in her body, she dragged herself toward it. Her fingers trembled as she opened their conversation. Dayla: I'm scared. The message remained unsent. The screen went black. And Dayla Stanford died. Three days later, rain poured over the cemetery. A single black car stood beside a freshly covered grave. There were no family members, no friends, and no flowers from the man who had promised to marry her. Only one man stood beneath a black umbrella. Luthur Chris. At thirty-two, he was one of the most powerful billionaires in the country. Business rivals feared him, politicians sought his favor, and even the wealthiest families thought twice before crossing him. Yet none of his money could change the name engraved on the gravestone before him. DAYLA STANFORD. He stared at it, his jaw clenched. "Why didn't you call me?" he whispered. He had discovered her death too late. By the time his people uncovered what had happened, Dayla had already been buried. He had investigated her fiancé, her stepsister, and every person who might have benefited from her death. What he found made his blood run cold. They had taken her life for money. And he had failed to protect the only woman who had ever made him feel human. Luthur placed a white rose on her grave. "You told me once that you were afraid of dying without anyone remembering you." His voice broke. "I remember you, Dayla. I always will." He remained there until the rain soaked through his coat. Before leaving, he made a promise. The people responsible would lose everything they had stolen from her. But revenge could not bring Dayla back. And that was the one thing Luthur Chris could never forgive the world for taking from him. One year earlier "Miss Stanford, are you planning to sleep through your entire life?" Dayla opened her eyes. A familiar voice sounded beside her bed. She frowned, expecting to see smoke, fire, or the terrible faces of Adrian and Vanessa. Instead, sunlight spilled through the curtains of her bedroom. Her maid, Grace, stood beside the bed with a tray of breakfast. "Miss Dayla, you're going to be late for your appointment." Dayla stared at her. Grace was alive. The room was untouched. Her hands were smooth, without burns or scars. She looked around frantically before grabbing her phone from the bedside table. The date on the screen made her blood run cold. One year before her death. "No..." she whispered. Grace placed the tray down. "Are you all right?" Dayla looked at her hands again. Then she began to cry. She was alive. Somehow, impossibly, she had returned to the past. Her phone vibrated. A message appeared from Adrian. Adrian: Good morning, sweetheart. Don't forget we're having dinner with Vanessa tonight. I have something important to discuss with you. Dayla stared at the message until her tears stopped. In her first life, she would have smiled. She would have hurried to get dressed, excited to spend time with the man she believed she would marry. Now, she remembered the flames. She remembered his cold eyes. She remembered Vanessa's smile. Slowly, Dayla deleted the message without replying. "Miss Dayla?" Grace asked nervously. "What's wrong?" Dayla lifted her head. "Nothing," she answered, wiping her tears. "I've just remembered something important." "What is it?" Dayla looked at her reflection in the mirror. The frightened woman who had died in that burning room was gone. In her place sat a woman who knew exactly what her enemies were capable of. "My wedding," she said quietly. "I think I need to reconsider it." Her phone vibrated again. This time, the message came from her anonymous online friend. Unknown: Good morning, Day. Did you sleep well? Dayla froze. She had almost forgotten. In her first life, this man had been her only comfort. She had told him about her fears, her dreams, and the loneliness she never admitted to anyone else. But she had never known his real identity. She typed slowly. Dayla: Can I ask you something? His reply came almost immediately. Unknown: Anything. Dayla stared at the screen. Dayla: If someone you trusted betrayed you, would you forgive them? For several seconds, there was no response. Then her phone vibrated. Unknown: It depends on what they did. Dayla swallowed. Dayla: What if they took everything from you? This time, the reply came faster. Unknown: Then I would make sure they never had the chance to do it again. Dayla read the message twice. For the first time since waking up, she smiled. It was a small, cold smile. Dayla: I think I'll do exactly that. Across the city, inside a luxurious penthouse office, Luthur Chris stared at the message on his screen. His assistant stood before his desk, waiting for instructions. "Sir, your nine o'clock meeting is ready." Luthur ignored him. Something about Dayla's messages felt different that morning. Her words carried a pain he couldn't explain. He typed another message. Unknown: Day, whatever happened, you can tell me. Dayla looked at the screen for a long moment. Then she closed the conversation. Not yet. This time, she would not tell anyone everything. Not even the man she trusted most. She had one year to change her fate. One year to protect her brother. One year to destroy the people who had murdered her. And this time, when the flames came, she would make sure her enemies were the ones left burning.

Dayla Stanford stood before the mirror, staring at the woman looking back at her. A year. She had one entire year before the day her fiancé and stepsister murdered her. One year to change everything. Her fingers tightened around the edge of the dressing table as memories flooded her mind. Adrian's cold expression. Vanessa's cruel laughter. The unbearable heat of the flames. She could still hear their voices. I was never in love with you. Goodbye, Dayla. Dayla closed her eyes. For months after her father's death, she had convinced herself that she was fortunate. She had a comfortable home, enough money to live without struggling, and a fiancé who seemed devoted to her. She had mistaken attention for love and jealousy for sisterly concern. Never again. A knock interrupted her thoughts. "Miss Dayla?" Grace called from outside. "Your breakfast is getting cold." "Come in." Grace entered, carrying a glass of orange juice. She stopped when she noticed Dayla's expression. "Are you feeling sick? You look like you haven't slept." Dayla turned away from the mirror. "I'm fine." "You've been crying." Grace had been her maid for three years, but their relationship had grown beyond the usual distance between a wealthy young woman and her servant. Grace was the closest thing Dayla had to a friend inside the house. In her previous life, Dayla had been so consumed by her engagement and family problems that she had failed to notice how often Grace tried to warn her about Adrian. She remembered one particular afternoon when Grace had told her that Adrian seemed more interested in her father's business than in her happiness. Dayla had defended him angrily. She had even stopped speaking to Grace for two days. Now, the memory made her chest ache. "Grace," she said softly. "Yes?" "Have you ever regretted trusting someone?" Grace looked surprised by the question. "Of course." "What did you do?" "I learned from it." Dayla lowered her eyes. "Even when the person was someone you loved?" Grace hesitated. "Especially then." For a moment, neither woman spoke. Then Dayla reached for Grace's hand. "I'm sorry." Grace blinked. "For what?" "For the times I refused to listen to you." A confused smile appeared on Grace's face. "You haven't done anything wrong today, Miss Dayla." Dayla almost laughed. If only Grace knew. She was apologizing for a mistake she had not made yet in this timeline, but one that had already cost her everything in another life. "Just promise me something," Dayla said. "What is it?" "If I ever tell you that someone is trustworthy, don't believe me immediately. Look at their actions yourself." Grace frowned. "That's a strange thing to ask." "I know. Please." After a moment, Grace nodded. "All right." Dayla released her hand and picked up her phone. There were several missed calls from Adrian. She ignored them. Another notification appeared, this time from Vanessa. Vanessa: Good morning, sister! Don't forget our dinner tonight. Adrian says he has something special planned. I'm so excited for you! Dayla stared at the message. Vanessa had always been good at pretending. She remembered how her stepsister had hugged her after their father's funeral, crying against her shoulder while secretly calculating how much money Dayla had inherited. She remembered sharing clothes, secrets, and childhood memories with her. She remembered believing that no matter how complicated their family became, Vanessa would never deliberately hurt her. That belief had been her greatest weakness. Dayla typed a reply. Dayla: I'll be there. She paused, then added a smiling emoji. If Vanessa wanted to continue pretending, Dayla would let her. For now. At eleven that morning, Dayla entered her father's former study. The room had remained almost untouched since his death. His favorite books lined the shelves, and a large wooden desk stood beside the window overlooking the garden. Her father had been a successful businessman who owned several residential buildings, commercial properties, and shares in different companies. After his death, most of his assets had passed to Dayla. Her younger brother, Ethan, had received a smaller inheritance placed under legal protection until he was old enough to manage it independently. Their stepmother had argued that the arrangement was unfair, but their father's lawyer had explained that the will was clear. Dayla's fiancé had started asking questions about the estate shortly afterward. At the time, she had thought he was simply interested in helping her manage it. Now, she understood. She opened the desk drawer and found a folder containing copies of the property documents. Her father's handwriting appeared on a note attached to the front. Dayla, never sign anything you do not understand. Money can be replaced, but the wrong decision can cost you years of peace. Trust carefully, my daughter. Her eyes filled with tears. "Daddy," she whispered, touching the paper. "I understand now." She had spent so much time believing that she needed a man to protect her that she had forgotten her father had already given her the tools to protect herself. She called the family's lawyer, Mr. Bennett. He answered after the second ring. "Miss Stanford? Is everything all right?" "I need to arrange a meeting with you." "Certainly. Is there a problem with the estate?" "Not yet." A brief silence followed. "Not yet?" Dayla took a breath. "I want a complete review of my father's will, all property documents, and every financial agreement connected to the estate. I also want to know whether anyone has been given authority to act on my behalf." "Has someone asked you to sign something?" Dayla looked at the folder on the desk. "Several people have." "Then do not sign anything until we meet." "I won't." Mr. Bennett agreed to meet her that afternoon. When the call ended, Dayla felt something she had not experienced in a long time. Control. It was not much, but it was a beginning. She gathered the documents and placed them in a locked drawer. From now on, nobody would have access to her inheritance without her knowledge. Nobody. At lunchtime, Ethan appeared in the doorway. "Dayla?" She turned around. Her younger brother was seventeen, tall and energetic, with their father's dark eyes. He had always followed her around when they were children, insisting that she could solve every problem in the world. In her first life, she had promised him that she would always protect him. Yet she had died without knowing what happened to him afterward. The thought was unbearable. "Ethan." He walked into the room, holding a sandwich. "Why are you hiding in Dad's study?" "I'm not hiding." "Then why did you tell Grace not to let anyone disturb you?" Dayla managed a small smile. "Because I needed some time alone." He studied her face. "You look strange." "Thank you." "I'm serious." "So am I." Ethan rolled his eyes and sat on the edge of the desk. "Vanessa said you're getting married soon. Is that true?" Dayla's smile disappeared. "Why are you asking?" "Because I don't trust Adrian." She stared at him. "What?" Ethan shrugged, suddenly looking uncomfortable. "I never said anything because you liked him. But he always asks questions about Dad's properties. And whenever you talk about business, he acts like he's already in charge." Dayla felt a chill move down her spine. Even Ethan had noticed. Why hadn't she listened? "What else have you noticed?" she asked carefully. "Nothing important." "Ethan." He sighed. "Sometimes Vanessa tells him things about you that you only tell her privately. I thought it was weird, but I figured sisters talked about everything." Dayla's stomach tightened. Her stepsister had been feeding Adrian information long before the murder. "Have you ever seen them together when they thought nobody was watching?" Ethan hesitated. "Once. They were arguing in the garden. When they saw me, they stopped talking." "Did you hear anything?" "No. But Adrian looked angry, and Vanessa looked scared." Dayla lowered her eyes, thinking. She could not tell Ethan about her death. He would never believe her, and she could not risk frightening him with a truth she barely understood herself. Instead, she reached for his hand. "Listen to me carefully. If Adrian or Vanessa asks you about Dad's properties, tell me immediately." "Why?" "Because I have reasons to be careful." Ethan studied her for a long moment. "Did something happen?" "Not yet." He frowned. "Why do you keep saying that?" Dayla forced a smile. "Because I have a feeling that things are about to change." Ethan squeezed her hand. "Whatever happens, we're on the same side, right?" Her throat tightened. "Always." He leaned forward and hugged her. Dayla wrapped her arms around him, holding him longer than usual. She had lost him once without even knowing what became of him. She would never allow herself to be that careless again. Across the city, Luthur Chris sat in his office overlooking the skyline. His assistant, Daniel, stood beside the desk with a tablet. "Your meeting with the Henderson Group has been moved to three o'clock," Daniel reported. "The board also wants your approval on the new acquisition." "Send the documents to my email." "And Miss Stanford?" Luthur's fingers stopped moving across his laptop. "What about her?" "She called off the lunch meeting she had arranged with her fiancé yesterday. According to our social contacts, she has also requested a meeting with her father's lawyer." Luthur slowly raised his eyes. "Why are you monitoring her schedule?" Daniel looked uncomfortable. "You asked me to keep you informed of any unusual developments involving her family." "I did." "Well, this is unusual." Luthur leaned back. Dayla had always been predictable in one particular way: she trusted people even when they gave her reasons not to. She had defended Adrian repeatedly, despite the man's obvious interest in her inheritance. And she had never shown any desire to challenge her family's arrangements. Until now. "Did something happen between her and Adrian?" Luthur asked. "We don't know." "Find out." Daniel nodded. "Of course." He turned to leave, but Luthur stopped him. "Daniel." "Sir?" "Don't interfere in her private life. I only want information about anything that could threaten her safety." "Understood." When the door closed, Luthur looked at his phone. He opened the conversation with Dayla. Their latest messages were still on the screen. Dayla: If someone you trusted betrayed you, would you forgive them? He had been thinking about the question all morning. It was unlike her to speak with such bitterness. He typed a message. Luthur: You sounded upset earlier. Are you sure you're all right? He waited. A minute passed. Then five. Finally, a reply appeared. Dayla: I'm fine. Just learning to be more careful. Luthur frowned. Luthur: Careful about what? Dayla: People. He stared at the single word. He knew Dayla's habits. She was generous with her trust, sometimes to a fault. She had once told him that she preferred getting hurt by trusting someone than living in fear of everyone. Something had changed. Luthur: Did someone hurt you? Dayla read the message from her bedroom. For a moment, she considered telling him everything. She wanted to tell someone about the flames, the betrayal, and the nightmare that followed her into this second life. But how could she explain something she could barely understand herself? She typed a response, deleted it, then typed another. Dayla: Not yet. Luthur sat upright. Not yet? Before he could respond, another message arrived. Dayla: Can we talk tonight? I don't want to be alone with my thoughts. His expression softened. Luthur: Of course. I'll be here. Dayla stared at his response. That was the problem. He had always been there. Even when she had been foolish enough to trust everyone else, her anonymous friend had listened without judging her. She did not know that Luthur Chris had spent years loving her from a distance. She did not know that he had attended her burial in another lifetime. And she certainly did not know that the man she rejected in public was the one person who would never willingly let her face danger alone. For now, she needed him to remain a stranger. It was safer that way. That evening, Dayla arrived at the restaurant where Adrian had arranged dinner. She wore a simple black dress and carried a small handbag. Her expression was calm, but her eyes missed nothing. Adrian stood when he saw her. "There she is." He kissed her cheek. In her first life, the gesture had made her feel loved. Now, she fought the urge to step away. "You look beautiful," he said. "Thank you." Vanessa sat at the table, smiling brightly. "Finally! I thought you had forgotten about us." "How could I forget?" Dayla took her seat. Adrian poured her a glass of wine. "I've been thinking about our future," he began. "Have you?" "Of course. We're getting older, and I think it's time we started making serious plans." Vanessa nodded enthusiastically. "That's wonderful. You two deserve the best." Dayla looked from one to the other. "What kind of plans?" Adrian smiled. "Marriage, obviously. But before that, we should organize your father's estate properly. Some of those properties aren't producing the income they could. I know a few people who could help us manage them." There it was. The same conversation. The same careful approach. In her first life, she had been flattered that Adrian wanted to help her. This time, she understood that he wanted access. "That's an interesting idea," she said. His expression brightened. "Really?" "Yes. But I've decided to review all the documents with my father's lawyer first." For a fraction of a second, Adrian's smile faltered. Vanessa noticed. "Why?" she asked. "Adrian is only trying to help you." "I'm sure he is. But my father always told me never to make important decisions without understanding the details." Adrian leaned forward. "Of course, sweetheart. But there's no need to make things complicated. I can handle most of it for you." Dayla met his eyes. "I know you believe that." He frowned. "What does that mean?" "Nothing." She picked up her glass. "Let's enjoy dinner." The conversation continued, but something had changed. Adrian watched her more carefully. Vanessa asked questions about the lawyer's meeting, pretending to be concerned about the estate. Dayla answered vaguely, refusing to reveal anything useful. For the first time, she could see the calculation behind their smiles. And for the first time, they were beginning to realize that she might not be as easy to control as they had believed. When dinner ended, Adrian walked her to her car. "Dayla, are you upset with me?" She looked at him. "No. Why would I be?" "You've been distant lately." "Perhaps I've been thinking about my future." He reached for her hand. "You know I only want what's best for you." She remembered the door closing. The flames rising. His voice telling her he had never loved her. Dayla gently withdrew her hand. "I hope so, Adrian." She entered the car and closed the door. As the driver pulled away, she looked through the window and watched Adrian's figure grow smaller. He stood beside Vanessa, both of them talking. Then Vanessa turned toward the departing car. Even from a distance, Dayla recognized the expression on her face. Suspicion. Good. Let them wonder. Let them worry. They had spent her first life believing she was too trusting to notice their lies. Now, every smile would be questioned. Every promise would be examined. Every secret would eventually be dragged into the light. Dayla turned away from the window and opened her phone. A new message from Luthur waited for her. Luthur: I'm here whenever you're ready to talk. For the first time that day, her expression softened. She typed back. Dayla: Thank you. I think I'm going to need you more than you realize. Across the city, Luthur read her words. He had no idea what had happened to change her. But one thing was certain. Dayla Stanford was in trouble. And this time, he intended to find out why before it was too late.

Dayla Stanford had barely slept. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the flames again. She heard Adrian's voice, remembered Vanessa's cruel smile, and felt the same helplessness that had consumed her in her final moments. But this time, she refused to be helpless. At six in the morning, she sat at her desk with a notebook open before her. On the first page, she had written three names. Adrian Cole. Vanessa Stanford. Luthur Chris. She stared at the last name for a long time before drawing a line beneath it. Unlike the first two, Luthur was not her enemy. At least, not as far as she knew. He was the anonymous man she had trusted with her secrets. He had listened to her complaints, comforted her when she cried, and stayed awake with her on nights when loneliness became unbearable. Yet she knew almost nothing about him. She did not know his face, his age, or where he lived. He had never sent her a photograph, and whenever she asked about his personal life, he found a way to change the subject. In her previous life, she had never considered that strange. Now, she wondered whether she had been too trusting of him as well. Her phone vibrated. Unknown: You're awake early, Day. She looked at the message and smiled faintly. Dayla: How do you know that? Unknown: Because you usually complain about waking up early. Today, you haven't complained once. She shook her head. Even through a screen, he noticed things about her that other people overlooked. Dayla: Maybe I've changed. Unknown: People change for a reason. Do you want to tell me yours? Dayla's fingers hovered over the keyboard. She wanted to tell him everything. She wanted to ask whether he would believe her if she confessed that she had died and somehow returned to the past. But she couldn't. Dayla: Not yet. His reply came almost immediately. Unknown: All right. I won't force you. She stared at those words. Adrian had always insisted that he knew what was best for her. He treated her decisions as inconveniences and her questions as challenges to his authority. Luthur never did that. He might ask questions, but he never demanded answers. That difference mattered more than she wanted to admit. Dayla: Can I ask you something personal? Unknown: Go ahead. Dayla: Have you ever loved someone you couldn't have? This time, he took longer to respond. Across the city, Luthur Chris stood beside the windows of his penthouse, holding his phone. He read Dayla's question twice. He had loved her for years. He had watched her reject him in person, dismissing him as an arrogant man who believed money could buy anything. Yet when she spoke to him online, she trusted him with the parts of herself she hid from the world. Sometimes, he wondered whether he should tell her the truth. Then he remembered the fear in her eyes whenever he approached her in public. He didn't want her to feel trapped by his wealth or pressured by his feelings. Luthur: Yes. Dayla's heart skipped. Dayla: What happened? Luthur: I kept my feelings to myself for too long. She read the answer carefully. Dayla: Do you regret it? Luthur looked down at the city below. "I regret not telling her," he whispered. Then he typed. Luthur: Every day. Dayla felt an unexpected sadness. For a moment, she forgot about Adrian and Vanessa. She imagined a man sitting alone somewhere, loving someone who might never return his feelings. She wondered what kind of woman could make a man like her online friend feel that way. Dayla: Maybe you still have time to tell her. Luthur: Maybe. But what if telling her changes everything? Dayla leaned back in her chair. Dayla: Then perhaps everything needs to change. Luthur smiled faintly. For a woman who had suddenly become so guarded, Dayla still had a way of saying things that reached straight into his heart. He wanted to ask her what had happened. Instead, he wrote one final message. Luthur: Don't let the people who hurt you decide what kind of person you become. Dayla stared at the screen. Too late, she thought. They had already changed her. But they would never control her again. At ten o'clock, Dayla arrived at Mr. Bennett's law office. The lawyer greeted her warmly and invited her into his private office. "I was surprised when you called yesterday," he admitted. "You have never requested a full review of your father's estate before." "I should have done it earlier." He studied her expression. "Has someone been pressuring you to transfer any properties?" Dayla kept her face calm. "My fiancé has suggested that we reorganize the estate before our marriage." Mr. Bennett removed his glasses. "Has he asked you to sign anything?" "Not yet. But he has shown me several documents." "Did you sign them?" "No." The lawyer looked relieved. "Good. Your father was very specific about protecting these assets. Some properties are registered directly in your name, while others are held through companies. Any transfer would require proper documentation." Dayla leaned forward. "Can someone take control of those properties without my permission?" "Not legally. However, fraud, forged signatures, or improperly authorized transactions can create serious problems." She felt a chill. In her first life, Adrian had repeatedly asked her to sign papers. She could not remember every document, but she recalled one agreement involving the management of several commercial buildings. At the time, she had signed it without reading every page. She would not make that mistake again. "I want copies of every document connected to my inheritance," she said. "And I want to know whether anyone has attempted to access my accounts or transfer ownership." Mr. Bennett nodded. "I can arrange that." "There is something else." "Yes?" "If I decide to get married, will my husband automatically gain control over my properties?" "No. Marriage does not automatically transfer ownership of assets registered in your name. However, the applicable laws and any agreements you sign can affect your rights. You should receive independent legal advice before signing anything." Dayla nodded slowly. "Then I want everything reviewed before I make any decisions." "That is wise." As the meeting continued, Dayla began to understand how much she had neglected. Her father had left her more than money. He had left her businesses, investments, and legal protections she had never fully examined. She had trusted Adrian to understand everything for her. Never again. When she finally left the office, she carried a folder of documents and a clearer understanding of what she needed to protect. For the first time, revenge felt less like a desperate promise and more like a plan. That afternoon, Vanessa arrived at the Stanford residence without warning. Dayla was in the sitting room when Grace announced her arrival. "Your sister is here." Dayla put down her book. "Let her in." Vanessa entered wearing a cream-colored dress and carrying a shopping bag. "There you are!" she exclaimed. "I've been calling you all morning." "I was busy." "Busy doing what?" "Taking care of something important." Vanessa placed the bag on the table and sat beside her. "I brought you a dress for the charity gala next week. I thought we could go shopping together and find something beautiful for you." Dayla glanced at the bag. In her first life, Vanessa had always done little things like this. She bought her gifts, complimented her clothes, and acted as though their relationship was perfect. It had made the betrayal harder to understand. Now, Dayla saw the gestures differently. "Thank you," she said politely. Vanessa studied her face. "Are you still upset about something?" "Why would I be upset?" "I don't know. You seem different." Dayla smiled. "Perhaps I'm finally growing up." Vanessa laughed, but the sound was forced. "You're making it sound as if you've been a child all these years." "Maybe I have." For a moment, Vanessa said nothing. Then she leaned closer. "Adrian told me you met with your father's lawyer." Dayla's fingers tightened around her teacup. Of course he had noticed. "Yes. I needed some advice." "About the estate?" "Among other things." Vanessa's expression changed slightly. "Dayla, you know Adrian only wants to help you. You shouldn't make him feel as if you don't trust him." Dayla looked directly at her. "Why should he feel entitled to my trust?" Vanessa blinked. "What?" "Trust is something people earn, isn't it?" "Of course, but he's your fiancé." "That doesn't mean I should stop thinking for myself." Vanessa stared at her as though she had never heard her speak that way. Dayla took another sip of tea. "Would you like some more?" "No." Vanessa stood abruptly. "I should go." "Already?" "I have things to do." Dayla watched her walk toward the door. Just before leaving, Vanessa turned around. "You're making a mistake, Dayla. You don't want to push away the people who care about you." Dayla held her gaze. "Then they should have nothing to fear from my questions." Vanessa left without answering. When the door closed, Dayla released a slow breath. Her stepsister had come looking for information. Instead, she had left with questions of her own. Good. Let the uncertainty begin. That evening, Luthur Chris attended a business dinner at the Sterling Hotel. He disliked social events, but his company was negotiating a major acquisition, and several influential investors had insisted on meeting in person. He sat at the head of the table, listening as a businessman explained the proposed agreement. "With your approval, Mr. Chris, we can complete the transaction within two weeks." Luthur glanced through the documents. "The projected costs are inaccurate." The man stiffened. "Excuse me?" "You've underestimated the liabilities and exaggerated the expected returns. Either you didn't read your own report, or you believe I won't notice." Silence fell around the table. Luthur closed the folder. "Have your team correct it. Then send it back." The businessman swallowed. "Of course." Luthur stood, signaling that the meeting was over. As he left the private dining room, Daniel approached him. "Sir, there's something you should know about Miss Stanford." Luthur immediately stopped. "What happened?" "Her stepsister visited the house today. They reportedly had an uncomfortable conversation." "About what?" "We don't know. But Miss Stanford has been meeting with her father's lawyer and reviewing the estate." Luthur considered this. "That's a good thing." Daniel looked surprised. "You aren't concerned?" "I'm concerned about why she suddenly feels the need to protect herself. But I won't interfere with her decisions." He took out his phone. There was a new message from Dayla. Dayla: Do you think people can pretend to love someone for years? Luthur's expression darkened. He thought about the men and women he had dealt with in business. People who smiled while planning to take advantage of him. People who called him a friend until they discovered he could no longer benefit them. Luthur: Yes. Some people are very good at pretending. Dayla: How do you tell the difference? He thought for a moment. Luthur: Watch what they do when you stop giving them what they want. Dayla read the message from her bedroom. Her eyes moved toward the family photograph on her bedside table. In it, she stood beside Adrian and Vanessa at a charity event, smiling as though her world were perfect. She picked up the photograph and placed it face down. Then she replied. Dayla: I think I'm about to find out. Luthur stared at the screen. His instincts told him that something serious was happening, but Dayla wasn't ready to tell him. He would wait. For her, he could wait. The next morning, Dayla received an invitation to a private charity gala attended by the country's wealthiest families and most influential business leaders. She almost declined. Then she noticed the name printed near the bottom of the invitation. Luthur Chris. He was listed as one of the event's principal sponsors. Dayla frowned. She had met him several times before her death. Their encounters had never gone well. The last time, he had approached her at a business gathering and asked whether she would consider having dinner with him. She had refused without hesitation. He had looked at her for a long moment before replying, "One day, Miss Stanford, you may discover that your assumptions about me are wrong." She had dismissed his words as arrogance. Now, she wondered whether she had misunderstood more than she realized. She picked up her phone and opened her conversation with her online friend. Dayla: Can I ask you something? Luthur: You can ask me anything. Dayla: Do you know Luthur Chris? On the other side of the city, the billionaire went still. For several seconds, he didn't move. Then he typed carefully. Luthur: Why do you ask? Dayla looked at the invitation again. Dayla: I'm going to an event where he'll be present. Luthur's heart began beating faster. He had wanted to see her for days, but he hadn't expected her to bring up his name. Luthur: What do you think of him? Dayla hesitated before answering. Dayla: He's arrogant. Cold. And he acts as if everyone should obey him. Luthur let out a quiet laugh. At least she was honest. Luthur: Perhaps you haven't seen every side of him. Dayla: Are you defending him? Luthur: I'm saying that people aren't always what they appear to be. Dayla stared at the message. For a strange moment, she felt as though her online friend was trying to tell her something. Something important. But before she could ask another question, Grace entered the room with a garment bag. "Your dress for the gala has arrived, Miss Dayla." Dayla closed her phone. "Put it there, please." Grace hung the dress beside the wardrobe. "Are you excited?" "No." "Why not? Everyone will be there." Dayla glanced at the invitation. Everyone who mattered in her world would be there. Her fiancé. Her stepsister. And the ruthless billionaire she had never understood. She walked toward the wardrobe and unzipped the garment bag. A beautiful midnight-blue gown hung inside. Dayla ran her fingers over the fabric. In her first life, she had attended such events hoping to impress people and secure her place among them. This time, she had a different purpose. She would watch. She would listen. And she would learn which smiles concealed knives. "Grace," she said, "make sure the car is ready by seven." Grace smiled. "Yes, Miss Dayla." After she left, Dayla looked at herself in the mirror. "Let's see who you really are, Luthur Chris," she whispered. Across the city, Luthur stood before his office window, reading her last message. He had no idea that the woman he loved was preparing to enter his world with suspicion in her heart. He only knew that, for the first time in years, Dayla Stanford was about to look at him again. And this time, he intended to make sure she saw more than the ruthless billionaire everyone feared.