Chapter 5: The Poison Pen

The words hung in the air like smoke from a gun. I stared at the man—some mid-level executive my fiancé, Damien, had been courting for weeks. His name was Harold Pemberton, a portly man with sweat beading on his forehead and a nervous twitch in his left eye.

"The night she died," I repeated, my voice dangerously low. "You were there."

Harold swallowed hard, glancing around the gala's glittering ballroom as if suddenly aware he'd said too much. "I—I shouldn't have—Miss Thorne, I didn't mean to—"

"Finish the sentence." I stepped closer, my champagne glass forgotten on a passing tray. "You said she signed everything over to Arthur. What exactly did she sign?"

His face went pale. "I… I assumed you knew. Your mother, she came to Arthur's office that night. I was working late. I heard shouting. Then… silence. When I looked in, she was signing a document. Her hands were shaking, and there were tears streaming down her face."

My heart hammered against my ribs. My mother had been murdered—I'd known that since my rebirth, even if the world had accepted the official story of a tragic accident. But this… this was a clue I hadn't unearthed in my previous life.

"And Arthur?" I pressed, my nails digging into my palm. "What did he do?"

Harold's eyes darted to something over my shoulder. I didn't need to turn to know who stood there. The air had shifted, crackling with familiar arrogance.

"Well, well. My beautiful fiancée, conspiring with business partners behind my back?"

Damien Vale's voice slithered through my spine like ice water. He appeared beside me, wrapping an arm around my waist with a possessive squeeze that made my skin crawl. In my past life, I'd found this gesture romantic. Now I knew it for what it was—a leash.

"Darling, I was just networking," I said, forcing sweetness into my tone. "Harold here was telling me about his latest venture in shipping logistics."

Harold looked like a deer caught in headlights. Damien's eyes narrowed. "Shipping? Funny. I thought we were discussing his partnership with Sterling Holdings."

The name hit me like a slap. Sterling Holdings—Damien's biggest competitor. The deal he'd been trying to close for months, the one that would cement his company's dominance. And Harold was their man.

An idea crystallized in my mind. Perfect. Fucking perfect.

"Actually, I was just about to tell Miss Thorne something interesting," Harold said, clearly desperate to change the subject. "There's been rumors that Sterling's CEO is about to pull out of the market entirely. Something about a hostile takeover from a foreign conglomerate."

Damien's grip on my waist tightened. "I heard those rumors. They're false. I have sources inside Sterling."

I smiled up at him, all doe-eyed and innocent. "Of course you do, baby. You always know everything."

He preened, and I nearly gagged. But the seed had been planted. Harold had given me the ammunition I needed. Now I just had to fire.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur. Damien made his rounds, shaking hands and kissing cheeks, while I excused myself to the ladies' room. There, I pulled out my phone and opened the encrypted messaging app my private investigator had set up for me.

**Me:** *Need a favor. Spread a rumor. Sterling Holdings is about to be acquired by Dragon Group from Shanghai. Have your sources in the financial press pick it up by tomorrow morning.*

The response came within seconds.

**P:** *It'll be done. What's this for?*

**Me:** *Insurance. Tell everyone Sterling's secret investors are pulling out. Make it convincing.*

**P:** *And if Damien checks?*

I smiled at my reflection. In the dim light, I could almost see my mother's ghost hovering behind me.

**Me:** *He won't. He's too arrogant to verify. That's his weakness.*

I spent the next three days playing the perfect fiancée. I attended Damien's meetings, laughed at his jokes, and let him think he was grooming me into a compliant trophy wife. The media ate it up—"Power Couple Watch: Damien Vale and Seraphina Thorne's Fairytale Romance." I burned copies of every article.

On the third day, the dominoes fell.

I was in Damien's penthouse when the call came. He answered with his usual pompous greeting, then his face went through a series of transformations—confusion, disbelief, fury.

"What do you mean Sterling's not buying?! We had a deal!"

The voice on the other end was tinny with panic. "They're pulling out, Mr. Vale. Something about insider information… they're saying our projections were fabricated. They're accusing us of fraud."

Damien slammed the phone down so hard the screen cracked. His eyes found me, wild and accusatory. "This is your fault."

I blinked innocently. "My fault? Darling, I've been in bed with the flu for two days."

"No." He stalked toward me, and for a moment, I saw the real Damien Vale—the man capable of ruining lives without a second thought. "Your family. The Thornes. You people have been sabotaging me since we got engaged."

I stood my ground, even as my heart raced. "That's insane. Why would I sabotage my own future husband?"

His jaw clenched. "Because you're not the silly little girl you pretend to be, are you, Seraphina? I've seen the way you look at me when you think I'm not watching. Like you're waiting for me to bleed."

I smiled. "Maybe you're just paranoid, baby."

The slap came so fast I didn't see it. My head snapped to the side, and pain exploded across my cheek. I tasted copper.

Damien loomed over me, breathing hard. "Don't you ever—"

The doorbell rang.

We both froze. I straightened, wiping blood from my lip with the back of my hand. "That'll be my attorney. I have papers for you to sign."

"What papers?"

I walked past him, my heels clicking against the marble floor. "Ownership transfer for the penthouse. I decided you were right—I should have something in my name. Just in case."

I opened the door to find not my attorney, but a courier holding a manila envelope. And behind him, leaning against the hallway wall with a knowing smirk, was the last person I expected to see.

Marcus Blackwood.

"Miss Thorne," he drawled, those midnight eyes glittering with amusement. "I believe you dropped something."

He held up a folder. Even from the doorway, I could read the label: *STERLING HOLDINGS—INTERNAL MEMO.*

My blood turned to ice.

"Shall we discuss," Marcus said, stepping forward, "how you managed to tank your fiancé's deal in under seventy-two hours?"

Behind me, Damien's footsteps approached. I was trapped between the man who'd hit me and the man who'd just uncovered my entire game.

And Marcus's smile told me he wasn't finished playing.