Chapter 1

Aurelia's POV

In my past life, I died in a freezing, damp basement.

The person who destroyed me was Evelina, the daughter of my father’s mistress. She set a trap at a charity gala, dragged my reputation through the mud, and forced me into a hellish marriage—all so she could strip away everything that rightfully belonged to me.

When I opened my eyes again, I was twenty-two. The gala that sealed my fate was happening tonight.

Before the banquet officially began, I seamlessly swapped two champagne flutes, handing her meticulously woven trap right back to her. When the scandal detonated, sending shockwaves through the ballroom, my eyes landed on Killian—the Vance family's notoriously cold-blooded illegitimate son.

The trust fund my mother left me was still firmly under my control. I walked straight up to him and laid my chips on the table.

My enemies had retreated to the shadows, waiting to strike back. But I was going to use their own conspiracies as stepping stones, clawing back everything I owned, one piece at a time.

—

The glare of crystal chandeliers pierced my eyes, and the deep hum of a cello drifted from the center of the hall. For a fleeting second, I didn’t know where I was. My lungs still burned with the suffocating memory of ice water being poured down my throat in that basement; my throat felt like it had been scrubbed with sandpaper. But when I looked down, I saw a perfectly intact crimson velvet gown and a golden flute of champagne resting in my hand.

"Sister, why are you out on the terrace catching a chill all by yourself?"

A sickeningly sweet voice drifted from behind me. I turned. Evelina approached, lifting the hem of her pure white haute couture gown, looking every bit like a harmless, graceful swan.

She was my father's mistress's daughter. And the hand that pushed me into hell in my previous life.

I had been reborn. It was the year I turned twenty-two, at the joint charity gala hosted by the Thorne and Vance families. Tonight, in my past life, I drank the champagne she handed me and was cornered in a second-floor guest room by reporters and socialites. The man lying next to me was Darius, the Vance family's infamous, scandal-ridden eldest son.

After the fallout, Darius was stripped of his title as the primary heir, and my father married me off to the Vance family just to smooth things over. Once we were married, Darius took out all the rage of his lost power on me. Evelina seamlessly took my place as the beloved jewel of the Thorne family. That tub of freezing water in the basement was the final gift that marriage left me.

"You look pale, Sister. Have a sip to warm up," she smiled, but her eyes were glued to the glass in my hand.

I smiled back, the night breeze turning the gesture ice-cold.

"You look beautiful tonight, Evelina." I didn’t drink. Instead, I turned toward the marble bar on the edge of the terrace. "But this glass has gone flat. Let me pour us a fresh one to celebrate your very first gala as an official daughter of the Thorne family."

With my back to her, I poured the drinks. After my mother died, insomnia became my constant companion, and keeping sleeping pills tucked in the lining of my clutch had been a habit for years. The powder I scraped off with my fingernail dropped seamlessly into the left glass, dissolving instantly into the bubbles. That dark, suffocating marriage in my past life had taught me plenty of underhanded tricks. This was just the most basic of them.

I turned around, handed her the glass in my left hand, and raised my right.

"Cheers. To our future."

A flicker of triumph flashed through Evelina’s eyes. She probably thought I had already walked right into her trap as she tipped her head back and drained the glass.

"Sister, Master Darius just mentioned he wanted to discuss the family foundation with you in the second-floor lounge," she said, setting her glass down. An unnatural, heavy flush was already creeping up her cheeks.

"Is that so?" I smoothed my skirt, my tone casual. "Why don't you go up in my place? Tell him I'll be right there."

The drugs kicked in faster than I expected. Her eyes lost their focus, and she swayed slightly on her feet.

I raised a hand and signaled a waiter. Half an hour ago, I had intercepted this very waiter at the end of the hall. I took off my emerald earrings, slipped them into his pocket, and he didn’t ask a single question. The recording pen tucked inside his breast pocket was a little extra gift from me.

"Miss Evelina has had too much to drink. Help her to the lounge at the end of the second-floor hallway," I instructed, keeping my voice low. "Master Darius is waiting for her inside. Make sure you send up a hangover cure for him first."

Watching her being practically carried away, I lifted my glass of untainted champagne and downed it in one fluid motion.

If they wanted to play this game, I’d play to the absolute end. Only this time, the hunter and the prey were switching places.

The gala hit its peak. My father, Richard Thorne, stood on the stage, reciting the usual hypocritical pleasantries about the generations-long friendship between our two families.

Standing on the fringes of the crowd, my gaze swept the room. Old Mr. Vance, the patriarch of the Vance family, sat at the head table looking imposing. Of his three sons, only the second was mingling. The eldest, Darius, had gone upstairs long ago. And as for the third...

I paused in the shadows for a second. Killian Vance—the rumored cold-blooded bastard of the family—was leaning against a Roman pillar. He was flipping a silver coin through his fingers, his hawk-like gaze locked dead onto the second floor.

It was time.

I opened my hand. The crystal flute shattered heavily against the marble floor, the sharp crack cutting through the hum of the crowd.