The Billionaire's Revenge She Returned to Destroy Him

It was Harbor City's worst-kept secret: Henry Sanchez, the billionaire heir, was pining for a ghost. A woman he couldn't have.

And I? I was just the stand-in. A body double kept in a gilded cage because I bore a passing resemblance to his one that got away.

Everyone mocked me for it. They called me cheap, a parasite clinging to a man who despised her, shamelessly refusing to leave. That was trueuntil the real obsession returned. When Amelia Harding came back to the country, Henry didn't hesitate. He cleared the house to make room for her overnight.

Amelia was even more arrogant than I remembered. She didn't just want my place; she wanted to crush me beneath her heel.

Henry looked at me with cold indifference. "You have two choices. Stay and be her maid to atone for your existenceI'll pay you twenty thousand a month. Or sign the divorce papers, take that worthless wasteland in the West End, and get the hell out of my sight."

Everyone expected me to swallow my pride. They thought I would beg to stay in the Sanchez orbit, no matter the humiliation.

Instead, I packed my bags in record time, snatched the land deed, and walked out.

In my previous life, I had humbled myself. I tried to please them, to be the perfect wife. In return, that bastard and his mistress tortured me until I broke, dying a miserable death in a mental asylum without even a grave to mark my passing.

In this life, I only want to stay as far away from them as possible.

As for that "worthless" land? Joke's on you, Henry.

The government demolition and redevelopment notice for the West End would be officially issued tomorrow. This heaven-sent wealth had finally fallen into my lap.

Splash.

Scalding heat lashed across my cheek. Brown liquid dripped from my chin, staining the freshly printed divorce agreement on the table.

Across from me, Amelia Harding held the now-empty coffee cup, her fingers manicured to perfection. A smug smile played on her lips, though her eyes widened in feigned innocence.

"Oops. My hand slipped, Annie. You aren't mad, are you?"

Mad? No. I want to kill you.

In my previous life, this exact cup of coffee broke my spirit. It was the moment I chose to submit, to stay in the Sanchez household and work like a slave. In exchange, they joined forces to destroy me.

Today, we make a clean break.

Henry, sitting at the head of the table, didn't even lift his eyes. He flicked his lighter open and closedclick, snap, clickhis voice dripping with disgust.

"Anna Pruitt, don't push your luck."

He stared at the flame. "Lick the coffee off the floor, wipe Amelia's shoes until they shine, and we'll consider this matter settled. Otherwise, don't expect to walk out of this door alive."

If it were the old me, my knees would have hit the floor instantly. After all, I was the Sanchez family's obedient doga fact known by all of Harbor City.

But the old Anna was dead.

I pulled a wet wipe from my purse and calmly cleaned the filth from my face.

Mistaking my silence for submission, Amelia stretched her leg out, offering her shoe. "Make it sparkle," she sneered. "These are limited edition. I had to pull strings to get them."

Smack!

The slap cracked through the living room like a gunshot.

The force whipped Amelia's head to the side. Her carefully styled hair exploded into a mess, and a crimson handprint blossomed on her pale cheek.

Henry surged to his feet, smashing the lighter onto the coffee table. "Anna! Have you lost your mind? You dare touch her?"

He raised his hand to strike, but I slammed the land deed onto the table between us.

"You want to get physical, Henry?" My voice was steady. "Consider that slap a lesson for your mistress. Lay a finger on me, and I'll torch this deed right here, right now. Then nobody gets what they want."

Henry's hand froze midair.

His gaze dropped to the document, contempt flashing in his dark eyes.

To him, the West End plot was a toxic asseta garbage investment made by his grandfather during a bout of senility. The land was a graveyard of unfinished buildings and chemical factories. Zero commercial value, bleeding money in maintenance costs every year.

Henry had been desperate to offload this hot potato for years. I was giving him the perfect excuse.

"Fine," he scoffed, tension leaving his shoulders. "You've got guts, Anna. I'll give you that."

He sank back onto the sofa, crossing his legs with arrogant ease. "Take this broken piece of land and get lost. But when you're starving on the street, don't come crawling back begging for charity."

"Amelia is the apple of my eye. A parasite like you, who only knows how to spend money, isn't even fit to carry her shoes."

Amelia buried her face in her hands, tears brimmingbut behind that fragile mask, malice flickered.

"Henry, don't fight with my sister," she whimpered. "She's just jealous of me..."

I ignored the drama queens and slammed the freshly reprinted divorce agreement onto the table.

"Sign."

Henry froze. The sheer coldness in my voice seemed to unsettle him. The Anna standing before himspine steel-straight, eyes devoid of warmthwas a stranger compared to the timid woman he was used to bullying.

Not wanting to lose face in front of Amelia, he snatched the pen and slashed his signature across the bottom line.

"Get lost!"

He hurled the document back at me.

I picked it up, scanned it to ensure every legal requirement was met, then slipped the deed to the West City wasteland into my bag.

I turned and walked away without a shred of lingering attachment.

At the entryway, I paused.

Slowly, I turned back to the wedding photo hanging on the wall.

In the picture, the old me smiled humbly, desperate to please, while Henry wore cold indifference. A monument to my stupidity.

I walked over and tore it down.

Riiip.

The sound was satisfying. The photo split cleanly down the middle.

I crumpled Henry's half into a ball and tossed it into the wastebasket.

"Trash belongs in the trash can."

Henry's face turned livid purple. He pointed a shaking finger at me, speechless with rage.

Ellie Finch, my mother-in-law, heard the commotion and rushed downstairs. The instant she took in the scene, she jabbed a finger toward my nose and shrieked.

"Anna Pruitt! You absolute jinx! How dare you tear that photo?"

Her voice climbed an octave. "Once you walk out that door, don't think about coming back! You will never set foot in the Sanchez family grave!"

I looked at the nasty old woman with cool detachment.

In my previous life, she had made my existence hell. To "save money" for the wealthy Sanchez dynasty, she'd forced me to eat scraps. When I fell ill, she refused to let me see a doctor.

The Sanchezes weren't short on money. Ellie just enjoyed grinding me into the dust.

I smoothed my collar and offered her a faint, pitying smile.

"Mom, you really don't need to worry."

I glanced around the opulent, suffocating villa. "Your family grave has terrible feng shui. It only seems to produce heartless, disloyal men."

I met her gaze. "I'm afraid entering it would shorten my life. Save that honor for Amelia."

Ellie gasped, clutching her chest, eyes rolling back. She looked ready to faint from sheer indignation.

Amelia rushed to support her while pulling out her phone. I watched her thumbs fly across the screen.

A moment later, my phone pinged.

Amelia had posted a selfie featuring her tear-stained facethe side I'd slappedwith the caption:

Finally cleared out the trash. Even though I got hurt, for Henry, it was worth it.

The comments were already flooding with praise for her and vicious insults aimed at me.

I wasn't angry. If anything, I found it amusing.

Walking out of the Sanchez villa gates, the air tasted different. Cleaner. Like freedom.

I cast one last look at the luxurious cage that had suffocated me for so long.

Henry Sanchez, Amelia Hardingyour good days are over.

As I raised my hand to hail a cab, a news alert popped up.

A trending topic, undoubtedly bought by Amelia: Wealthy Dynasty's Cast-Off Wife Exits in Misery, Leaving with Nothing to Atone for Her Sins.

The image was a candid shot of me dragging my suitcase, back turned to look desolate.

The comments were a cesspool of strangers calling me shameless for clinging to a man who didn't want me.

I locked the screen and flagged down a taxi.

"Take me to the best hotel in Harbor City."

The driver glanced at me in the rearview mirrormy simple clothes, the singular suitcase.

"Miss, that place is expensive. Tens of thousands a night."

I fished out a sleek black card.

This wasn't Sanchez money. This was the war chest I'd built through private investmentsassets Henry knew nothing about.

"It's fine," I said. "I have money."

And very soon, I thought, watching the city blur past, I'll have a hell of a lot more.

From the Peninsula Hotel's suite, floor-to-ceiling windows framed Harbor City's glittering nightscape.

I swirled my wine, watching headlights snake far below. In my past life, I'd been a prisoner of the Sanchez family's kitchen and laundry room. Even lifting my head to see the sky had been a luxury.

My phone vibrated relentlessly on the table.

Transaction Declined.

Transaction Declined.

The notifications kept coming. Henry was ruthlesswe'd barely signed the divorce papers, and he'd already cut off every supplementary card.

He expected me to starve. To lose my roof and crawl back in tears, begging forgiveness.

Unfortunately, he'd severely underestimated me. I was no longer the fragile vine that needed a man to survive.

I opened my laptop and logged into a discreet asset platform. One by one, I listed the "garbage" properties I'd quietly acquired under my own name over the yearsassets Henry had turned his nose up at.

Within thirty minutes, everything liquidated.

My balance swelled by five million dollars. To Sanchez Group, pocket change. To me? Ammunition. Startup capital.

I ordered a lavish seafood spread from room service. Just as I tucked into a lobster tail, my phone rang.

Henry's assistant. His tone dripped with borrowed arrogance.

"Miss Pruitt, Mr. Sanchez has a proposition. Return immediately and kneel to apologize to Miss Harding, and he's willing to negotiate."

A pause for effect. "The previous twenty thousand in child support can be raised to thirty. Furthermore, he'll let you stay in the servant's quartersso you won't have to sleep on the street."

I laughed, nearly choking on my wine.

"Tell Henry to keep his spare change," I said coolly. "He'll need it for his own coffin."

I moved to hang up, then added, "Ohand tell him to watch the morning news. Hope his heart can handle it."

I ended the call and blocked the number.

Early next morning, Harbor City's landscape shifted irrevocably.

A government announcement dropped like a bomb.

Breaking: City Planning Department officially designates West City wasteland as the new CBD core!

Hundred-billion-dollar development launched! West City wasteland to become Harbor City's future landmark!

The city went into a frenzy. Meanwhile, the land deed for that exact core area sat quietly in my handbag.

I sipped my coffee, watching the live broadcast.

Moments later, the compensation plan was released. Because the location was the absolute heart of the new zone, combined with policy incentives, the payout was astronomical.

Two billion dollars in cash.

Plus ownership of ten Grade-A office buildings upon completion.

A fortune had literally fallen into my lap.

I opened my calculator app. Two billion cash. Annual rent from ten skyscrapersat least another billion yearly. The mighty Sanchez Group that Henry was so proud of barely scraped that much in annual profit.

My phone buzzed again.

Not a decline this time. Victory.

Your account ending in 8888 has received $2,000,000,000.00.

I stared at the string of zeros. No giddiness. Just cold, refreshing clarity.

At the same time, in Sanchez Group's CEO office

Crash!

A priceless antique vase exploded against the wall.

Henry stood panting, eyes bloodshot, glaring at the television.

"That was a wasteland!" he roared. "How could it possibly become the CBD?"

The composed, icy CEO was gone. He paced like a caged animal, stride growing frantic. The debris scattered across the floor mirrored his shattering sanity perfectly.

Henry had thrown that land at me like scraps to a stray dogpure humiliation.

Now? It was a goldmine worth billions.

Amelia sat frozen on the sofa, her face bloodless. Her manicured nails dug into her palms hard enough to draw blood. She hadn't expected my luck to be this monstrous.

"Henry, Anna knew!" she shrieked. "She refused to divorce just for this land! That bitch played us!"

Tears streamed down her facea well-rehearsed performance. It worked. Henry's temper exploded.

"I knew she wouldn't leave easily! She dug the pit and waited for me to jump!" He snatched the phone from the table, hands shaking. "I'm going to kill her!"

He dialed. This time, I answered.

"Anna Pruitt! You fraud! That land belongs to the Sanchez family!" His roar nearly blew out my speaker. "Return the deed now! Or I'll make sure you never show your face in Harbor City again!"

I held the phone away from my ear, unbothered. I was sitting in an upscale salon, studying my reflection. The long, heavy locks were gonereplaced by a sharp bob that framed my jaw like a blade.

The timid stand-in was dead.

"Mr. Sanchez, the divorce agreement is signed in black and white," I said coolly. "Property division is final. If your memory's failing due to early-onset dementia, I can burn you a copylike an offering to the dead."

He was hyperventilating now.

"Anna Pruitt! That's two billion! You think you can swallow that without choking?!"

I laughed softly, smoothing a stray hair into place.

"Mr. Sanchez, thank you for your generosity. Consider it a service fee for your... performance these past three years. Though frankly, your skills in bed were mediocre at best." I paused. "But I'm not short on cash. Consider it a generous tip."

I hung up and blocked his number again.

The woman in the mirror smiled backradiant and dangerous.

Henry Sanchez, this is only the beginning.

The real show hasn't even started.

With two billion in my account, I moved fast.

Pruitt Capital was born overnight. The name was a declaration of warI wanted all of Harbor City to know the Pruitt bloodline wasn't extinct.

My first target: the Deep Bay project.

The Sanchez Group was fighting tooth and nail for it. Their lifeline for the fiscal year. Henry had already leveraged half his fortune greasing palms to secure the deal. If he lost this, the Sanchez family's capital chain would snap clean in half.

Night fell, and with it came a lavish gala where Harbor City's elite gathered to preen. Rumor had it Henry was bringing Amelia to announce his victory with Deep Bay.

I couldn't miss the chance to offer my congratulations.

I donned custom haute couturecrimson red, deep-V, completely backless. Around my neck hung a pink diamond worth eighty million, fresh from the auction block.

My outfit alone cost more than Sanchez Group's profits for the last six months.

At the entrance, I spotted them. Sycophants swarmed Henry and Amelia like flies. She wore pure white, playing the innocent saint to perfection. Henry looked haggard, barely holding his composure as he forced smiles for the cameras.

"Henry, surely Deep Bay is yours?" a guest simpered.

"Naturally," another chimed in. "Who in Harbor City dares compete with Mr. Sanchez?"

The bootlicking was deafening. Amelia clung to Henry's arm, gazing up at him adoringly.

"My, isn't this lively?"

I pushed the heavy doors open. My stilettos struck marblesharp, rhythmic.

The chatter died. Every eye locked onto me.

Whispers rippled through the banquet hall as I made my entrance.

"Who is that? Since when does Harbor City have someone like her?"

"My God, is that Anna Pruitt? The stand-in?"

"Impossible. Her entire aura has changed."

I ignored the noise, gaze fixed ahead as I cut through the crowd.

Henry spotted me instantly. His pupils constricted, stunned amazement curdling into rage.

"Anna Pruitt." He stepped into my path. "What are you doing here? This isn't a place for someone like you." His voice rose. "Security! Since when do we let trash through the front door?"

Amelia was quick to join. She covered her mouth in feigned shock. "Annie? Did you blow through your demolition money already? Here hunting for a new... sponsor?"

Sugary tone. Venomous implication: I was here to sell myself.

Low chuckles rippled through the crowd.

Before I could retort, a strong arm circled my waist, pulling me against a firm chest.

"Ms. Pruitt is my distinguished guest." The deep voice silenced the room. "Do you have an objection, Mr. Sanchez?"

I turned and found myself drowning in eyes as dark as the ocean.

Caleb Delgado.

The apex predator of Harbor City. The man at the very tip of the pyramid. Henry's mortal enemy. And, as I'd learned too late in my past life, the silent benefactor who'd protected me from the shadows until the bitter end.

Henry's face drained of color. In this circle, wealth was power, and no one dared disrespect Caleb Delgado.

"Mr. Delgado," he stammered. "Why... why are you here?"

Caleb didn't spare him a glance. He lowered his head, his cold gaze softening as it settled on me. "Why didn't you wait for me?"

My heart skipped. Good actor, I thought. But I know an opportunity when I see one. If the most powerful man in the city was offering his arm, I wasn't letting go.

I leaned into him, hooking my arm through his as I arched a brow at Henry.

"Mr. Sanchez was just asking why I'm here." A cold smile played on my lips. "Nothing major. I came to notify you that I've signed the Deep Bay project."

The blood left Henry's face completely. His Adam's apple bobbed, but no words came.

"Impossible!" he finally shrieked. "I already discussed that with Aiden Lambert!"

I reached into my handbag and produced a contract copy, waving it before his eyes.

"My offer was thirty percent higher, paid in full." My voice was crisp. "Aiden Lambert knows which side to choose."

The hall erupted.

Paid in full. Tens of billions in liquid assets.

The crowd's gaze shifted. Mockery vanished, replaced by shock and awe.

Henry stared at the contract, eyes bloodshot. That project was his lifelineand I'd snatched it without breaking a sweat.

Sensing the shift, Amelia grabbed a glass of red wine from a passing waiter and sashayed toward me.

"Annie is really amazing." Her voice trembled. "Let me toast to your success."

As she reached me, she stumbleddeliberate, calculated. The glass tilted, dark red liquid flying toward my chest.

The same old trick. She'd used it countless times to humiliate me while playing the clumsy innocent.

But I was no longer the Anna Pruitt who stood still and took it.

I sidestepped with practiced ease. As the wine hit the floor, I drove my heel into her knee.

"Ah!"

Amelia shrieked and dropped. Glass shattered. The wine she'd meant for me splashed across her pristine white dress.

She looked like a disaster.

"Oh my, Amy." I looked down with mock concern. "How careless. There's no need to kneelI really can't accept such a grand gesture of submission."

Henry saw red. He rushed forward, hands raised. "Anna Pruitt! You did that on purpose!"

Before he could touch me, Caleb stepped forward, blocking his path like an immovable wall.

Caleb didn't speak, yet the glacial aura radiating from him forced Henry to freeze mid-stride.

"Mr. Sanchez, keep your woman in line." His voice was a low rumble, heavy as a judge's gavel. "If your hand slips again, I won't hesitate to ensure the Sanchez Group loses its grip on everything."

The threat hung in the air.

Henry grit his teeth, veins bulging as he fought to suppress his rage. Against Caleb Delgado, he didn't dare lash out. He could only direct a venomous glare at me.

"Anna Pruitt, just you wait! Don't think climbing into Caleb Delgado's bed means you can do whatever you want!"

Ignoring him, I plucked a glass of red wine from a passing waiter's tray and stalked toward Amelia.

Henry helped her to her feet, but her eyes remained fixed on me, filled with malice.

Splash!

I upended the glass directly over her head.

Crimson liquid drenched her hair, dripping down her face, ruining her makeup in ugly, dark rivulets.

"Ah! Anna! I'm going to kill you!" Amelia shrieked, clawing at her face.

A cold smile played on my lips as I leaned in close to her ear. "Open your eyes and look closely," I whispered. "The woman you are now isn't even fit to shine my shoes."

Without waiting for a response, I linked my arm through Caleb's. Under the shocked gazes of the city's elite, we turned and walked away.

Behind us, Henry's furious roar and Amelia's wretched wailing faded into background noise.

Outside the banquet hall, the night wind brushed cool against my skin. Caleb removed his suit jacket and draped it over my shoulders.

"Satisfied?" he asked.

I looked up at him. "This is only the beginning. That little stunt was just interest. Nowhere near enough to repay the debt of a life."

After the cocktail party, the hierarchy of Harbor City shifted.

The name Anna Pruitt became a legend whispered on everyone's lips. Conversely, Henry Sanchez became the city's biggest punchline.

The Deep Bay project was ripped from his hands, and Sanchez Group's stock plummeted to the limit the moment markets opened.

I had no intention of letting him catch his breath.

Using pocket change from the two billion, I leased a gigantic LED billboard directly across from the Sanchez Group headquarters.

Twenty-four hours a day, on endless loop, it displayed one image: my divorce certificate with Henry.

I deliberately enlarged the date and added a scrolling ticker at the bottom:

[CONGRATULATIONS TO MISS PRUITT ON HAPPILY BECOMING SINGLE. MAY YOU FOREVER STAY AWAY FROM TRASH AND ENJOY ENDLESS FORTUNE.]

The screen faced the floor-to-ceiling windows of Henry's executive office. He only had to lift his head to see his humiliation broadcast in high definition.

Rumor had it he ordered every curtain drawn and smashed two computers in blind rage.

By noon, I was at my new office, reviewing financial reports.

Bang!

The double doors burst open.

Henry charged in. Security guards trailing behind him were breathless and useless against his rampage.

"Anna! What the hell is your game?"

He stormed up to my desk, slamming both hands on the surface. His eyes were bloodshot, manic.

Unhurried, I closed the file and met his gaze. "Mr. Sanchez. Trespassing in a corporate building? I could have you arrested."

Henry stared at my indifferent expression, and his demeanor shifted. The rage evaporated, replaced by a sickening, wheedling tone.

"Annie, stop the theatrics." He leaned in, voice dropping. "I know you still have me in your heart. You're doing all this just to get my attention."

I stared at him, blinkered.

"As long as you take down that billboard and return the Deep Bay project, I'll consider cutting ties with Amelia."

Bile rose in my throat. The man's narcissism had punched through the ceiling of human logic.

"Henry, do you own a mirror?" My voice stayed flat. "You look like a stray dog that's been kicked out of the house. Just looking at you makes me nauseous."

The insult landed. The familiar violencethe brutality I knew too wellsurged back into his eyes.

He rounded the desk, lunging to grab my wrist, trying to force his mouth onto mine.

"What are you pretending to be so high and mighty for? Back when you begged me in bed"

Smack!

I backhanded him across the face.

I put my entire body weight into it, hitting him so hard my palm went numb.

I didn't hesitate. My finger found the silent alarm beneath the desk.

"I've already called the police," I said, voice ice-cold. "I'm reporting you for sexual harassment."

Before he could react, I added, "And don't bother trying to destroy the footage. The surveillance uploads directly to the cloud. You can't deny a thing."

Henry froze. The shock on his face was deeply satisfyinghe hadn't expected me to be this ruthless.

Then his phone shattered the silence.

Amelia.

Even from where I stood, I could hear the hysterical wailing on the other end.

"Henry! The baby... our child is gone!"

"It's all because of Anna! She made me so angry that I... sob..."

Henry's expression shifted from shock to murderous rage. He glared at me, eyes burning with terrifying intensity.

"Anna Pruitt! If anything happens to Amelia or my child, I will make you pay with your life!"

He shoved me aside hard enough to send me stumbling and stormed out like a madman.

I steadied myself, rubbing my reddened wrist, and let out a cold sneer.

A child?

If Amelia Harding could get pregnant, pigs would fly.

I knew from my past life that her early years had been chaotictoo many back-alley abortions. She'd lost the ability to conceive years ago. This so-called "child" was nothing more than a leash to keep Henry obedient.

Perfect. The evidence had just delivered itself to my doorstep.

I gathered my things and drove straight to the hospital.

Before I even entered the ward, I could hear Amelia's shrill voice through the door.

"The doctor said it was a boy! He was already forming!"

"It's all Anna Pruitt's fault! She deliberately sent me that video to stress me out. My heart couldn't take it, and then..."

Henry sounded heartbroken, holding her close and swearing he would kill me.

I kicked the door open, a thick stack of documents in hand.

"Impressive performance." I stepped into the room. "If I didn't know better, I'd think I'd walked onto a soap opera set."

Amelia screamed, burrowing deeper into Henry's arms. "Murderer! You still have the nerve to show your face?"

Henry grabbed a glass from the bedside table, knuckles white.

I didn't flinch. Instead, I flung the documents directly into his face.

"Open your damn eyes and look."

The papers fluttered down around him.

"That's Amelia's booking record at the Haoting Hotel from last month," I said, voice cutting through the tension. "Note the companionan unidentified male."

I pointed to another sheet. "And this is the transaction record for a fake pregnancy certificate bought on the black market."

I smirked at Amelia, whose face had gone deathly pale. "A miscarriage? The only thing she lost was a clump of air."

Henry snatched the documents, hands trembling.

The evidence was irrefutable. Timestamps, photos, transfer recordseverything crystal clear. The man in the photo with Amelia looked like some cheap, third-rate model.

The silence became suffocating.

Amelia's crying stopped abruptly. She looked as if she'd seen a ghost.

"No, Henry! She photoshopped them! She's framing me!" Her voice wavered with panic.

Henry might have been a fool, but he wasn't blind.

The pedestal he'd placed Amelia on crumbled. His "white moonlight" shattered into dust. He turned to look at her with a gaze so cold it was as if he were looking at a stranger.

"You weren't pregnant?"

Dangerously quiet.

"You were looking for other men behind my back?"

"Henry, listen to me"

"Shut up!"

They tore into each other like rabid dogs. I had no interest in watching this farce. I turned and walked out.

Just as I exited the hospital, a sleek black Maybach pulled up to the curb, blocking my path.

The rear window rolled down, revealing a face striking enough to bring the world to its knees.

Caleb Delgado.

His dark eyes locked onto mine.

"Get in. I'm taking you somewhere."

The car glided through the city toward the suburbs, eventually stopping before an old, familiar building.

The orphanage.

Confusion gnawed at me. This was where I'd grown up. Why were we here?

Caleb led me to the director's office. Director Morrison, older and frailer than I remembered, stood to greet us. With trembling hands, he pulled a yellowed ledger from a locked drawer and opened it to a faded page.

"Anna," the old man said softly. "You always believed the person sponsoring you was the young master of the Sanchez family."

He looked up at me, eyes filled with gentle truth.

"But it wasn't."

"The person who sent you money every month, who paid for your college tuition, who secretly covered your medical bills when you were sick..."

He glanced at Caleb.

"...has always been Mr. Delgado."

In my past life, I sold my soul to Henry Sanchez over a debt. He'd waved a remittance slip in my face, claiming he'd funded my education when I had nothing.

But standing there now, the truth hit like a sledgehammer. That slip wasn't his. Had he stolen credit from Caleb Delgado, or was this just another con?

I turned to Caleb.

He stood framed by the setting sun, immovable. His posture was rigid, his gaze holding carefully leashed affection.

"Why?" My voice cracked. "Why hide this from me?"

He reached out, hovering for a moment before tucking a stray lock behind my ear. "The Sanchez family was untouchable back then. I was afraid I'd drag you down." His eyes dimmed. "By the time I had the power to protect you... you were already gone."

Already gone.

Already in love with a thief. Already a shadow for a man who never existed.

Tears blurred my vision. In this life, I hadn't just loved the wrong personI'd repaid the wrong debt. My entire tragedy was built on one grotesque lie.

I clenched my fists until nails bit flesh. Years of buried hatred erupted. Henry wouldn't just pay. He would bleed. Principal and interesteverything he owed me, everything he stole from Caleb.