Three hours later, we were at my parents' estate. I was immaculate and groomed, ready to take on the elite of Ansonville, New York, whom my parents value above all else. Or at least, that's how it appears. Behind the scenes, there's nothing but gossip, betrayals, and scams to make us even richer.

My stomach churns, and every cell in my body tells me to turn tail and run. To hide somewhere, to pretend Freddy didn't text me about a surprise. Coming from him, it can't be anything good.

Unfortunately, my brother is at my side as soon as we enter the ballroom of my parents' estate. "Happy birthday, Samantha."

That's all he says, and all I'm going to get. We're practically strangers, always have been.

Everything around me immediately increases my discomfort: the noise of the crowd, the change from the cool evening air to the damp, the crowded room, the overpowering smell of food.

I inhale deeply and lower my chin. "Thank you."

A society photographer stops us, and we pose together for a photo. My parents' friends smile at us from all sides, wishing me happy birthday. Though none of them are here for me. A waiter passes us with a tray of champagne, but I shake my head when Alexander tries to give me some.

"I'll get some later."

He simply shrugs and takes a sip of his own.

To our father's delight, Alexander is his spitting image: tall, slender, with almost black brown hair and dark blue eyes. Instead, I gravitate more toward my mother, with her average height, brown eyes, olive skin, and curves, which she pretends to love for the public, but secretly hates.

While it's easy to notice the family resemblance between Alexander and me, we might as well have grown up in two families on opposite sides of the world rather than in the same house, given how far apart we are. Alexander is living proof of my father's astuteness and childcare skills, at least as long as he's dealing with a child who adores him and is easily influenced.

Which I am not.

Consequently, Alexander has practically ignored me since my parents discovered I'm not like my older siblings. I have no interest in the family business or in being the boss of high society.

There's no place in the Osborn family for a girl who would rather "make noise"-as my parents used to call my music behind closed doors-than bury her nose in a book and talk about economic statistics or the future of the global financial market.

I've disappointed the family, and they do their best to ignore me as much as possible.

And after what happened to my sister, they've barely been able to look at me for more than a few seconds.

It's not that I blame them. They all heard our fight that terrible night three years ago.

"I hope one day you can forgive me, Sam."

The parting words my sister whispered to me before speeding off in her car will haunt me forever.

Her last words.

It's a miracle I have people in my life who even talk to me, let alone care about me, like Jake and Selena.

That's because they don't know what you did.

As if called, my friends approach me and give reassuring squeezes to my hand and shoulder. It's enough to pull me out of my destructive thoughts.

Alexander guides me between tables with elaborate floral decorations and leads me to our parents, who are already waiting for us on the other side of the room with fake smiles. As always, they are perfectly positioned in front of the thick velvet curtains that cover the large, gilt-framed French windows. My mother once told me it's the perfect background for photos because it gives her skin a special glow.

I've never seen her so disappointed as when I didn't share her enthusiasm at that moment.

By now, my parents know I hate these kinds of gatherings and probably won't last more than an hour. The only good thing is that no one will miss me when I disappear.

My mother's gaze travels over my meticulous makeup and my abundant curls, down to my perfectly fitted, floor-length designer dress and the stiletto heels that are visible with every step I take on the polished hardwood floors, due to the generous slit in the skirt.

Her smile never wavers when I approach, which is as clear a sign that there's nothing wrong with my appearance as any words could be.

She hugs me when I'm close and squeezes me. "Happy birthday, Samantha."

For those fleeting seconds, I close my eyes and breathe in as much of her warmth and familiar rose scent as I can. My father clears his throat loudly, and the strange moment ends.

All noise in the room immediately ceases, and everyone's attention shifts to him.

"We have gathered today to celebrate the birthday of our beautiful daughter, Samantha. May this evening be a celebration of joy, love, and family."

The crowd erupts in applause. My father looks at me for a moment and returns to his speech.

"Also, tonight I would also like to stand for forgiveness and community by welcoming home one of our own."

His statement elicits murmurs from around us.

I look for Selena and Jake, who only shrug when I find them standing off to the side a few feet away.

My dad raises his glass of champagne. "We're glad you're back, son. Welcome home."

Someone in the background also raises their glass, and I see it for the first time. I feel such a strong lurch in my stomach that I grab onto my brother's arm to stay upright.

Zane Levent.

My dad continues talking, but everything sounds like he's underwater.

The crowd parts to make way for Zane. He strides casually toward us, a smile plastered across his incredibly handsome face: the same sharp jaw, straight nose, and well-defined mouth, complete with the small scar on his upper lip that always enhanced his masculine beauty.

Meanwhile, my heart tries to shut itself off.

This is impossible.

This can't be happening.

Yet he's almost reached us as if it were just another day.

And he fits right in, too, dressed in a crisp black suit.

But were his shoulders always this broad?

I don't notice his body or our surroundings much longer. I'm paralyzed. I can't tear my gaze away from his face.

The dark depths of his eyes hold me hostage, and he looks at me with nothing but warmth in them.

There'll be a surprise waiting for you.

The words from Freddy's text message flood back to me.

I knew it couldn't be anything good, but I didn't expect it to be this messed up.

Zane Levent is my surprise.

My dead sister's fiancé.

The man who's been in prison for the past three years.

And he has no idea I was the one who put him there.

Zane

I've waited for this moment for so long, and now that it's finally happening, I can't take my eyes off Samantha.

The blood roars in my ears so loudly that everything around me becomes background noise. The whispers and subtle glances of judgment as I walk past the people I once wanted to impress no longer bother me.

Some see only the criminal in me. Someone who was imprisoned for doing something illegal.

Others see beyond that, primarily for their own interests or their own pockets, and focus on the billionaire heir to Levent Enterprises, the largest mergers and acquisitions firm in the world. The same person they reject one second and try to kiss his ass the next.

Senator Walsh stands in the crowd, his hand a little too firm on his young aide's lower back, something I file away for later.

In this moment, they don't matter.

No one matters, except one person.

My body trembles at her panicked expression, and I don't dare look away. Since she saw me, her gaze hasn't wavered once. It's as if she knows I'm the predator and she's the prey, and if she takes her gaze off me for even a second, I'll pounce on her and kill her.

What she doesn't know is that what I have in mind for her is far worse.

If all goes according to plan, she'll beg for death. But she doesn't deserve the luxury of a quick death. What she deserves is prolonged torture.

And that's why I'm here.

She was my downfall, and I'm here to return the favor.

But first, she needs to know I'm back.

This is the first time I've been out in public since I was released almost two weeks ago, and being here, surrounded by so many people, gives me the creeps. Having something so simple impact me so much only fuels my hatred and thirst for revenge.

Even though Samantha's father told the partygoers to enjoy the party, most of the attendees kept staring at me. I can almost feel their gazes digging into my back like pins and needles.

Her father takes a step toward me and to the side, cutting off my view of Samantha.

My muscles tense.

"Good to see you, Zane. Welcome home."

I shake his hand and smile. It's time to play this game. "Thank you, Mr. Osborn."

He chuckles, his ample abdomen twitching at the action. "Oh, drop the formalities and call me Ronney."

I nod. "Ronney."

He points to his wife. "And my beautiful wife, Audrey, of course."

I take his hand and bring it to my lips. "It's so good to see you again, Genna."

The smile he gives me is warm and welcoming. Absolutely pleasing to the naked eye. If I hadn't grown up in this environment, surrounded by fake people my whole life, she might have fooled me too. But I know better.

And as much as prison was an... inconvenience, at the very least, it allowed me to hone my ability to read people. There's only so much you can do and focus on when you're locked up. Unless you want to waste time staring at a blank concrete wall or wallowing in self-pity.

It also gave me enough time to prepare for the moment I'd come face-to-face with Samantha again.

Ignoring her, I focus first on her brother, studying his face.

He doesn't hold my gaze for long, his posture slumping slightly as he says, "Hey, man."

Alexander and I weren't close friends, but we spent enough time together that it hurt that he, like everyone else in our circle, cut all ties with me when word got out that he'd been arrested.

A bunch of spineless bastards.

When I can't put it off any longer, I turn to Samantha and sip my champagne while I watch her.

Sam, the sweet girl I was obsessed with years ago but couldn't have.

But she's no longer my Sam, my Angel. She hasn't been for a long time.

She's Samantha now.

The photos I saw of her while I was locked up didn't do her justice. She's matured, and even I can admit that she's done so beautifully. What makes her look even more devastating now is her quivering chin and wide eyes. I hope it's out of fear. I hope she's imagining me slitting her throat or something equally terrible to get revenge for what she did to me.

But that would be too easy.

Too quick and too final.

She deserves something far more painful and torturous.

Revenge won't give me back what I lost, but it will make me feel better.

Just as she's occupied my thoughts for most of the past three years, I want her to experience the same discomfort now that I'm back. The same compulsion. Having her constantly look over my shoulder and not being able to sleep at night.

But she doesn't know about that yet. It'll be a surprise for later.

With a smile that should pass for genuine, I close the distance between us and wrap my arms around her. "Happy birthday, Sam."

She stiffens under my touch. Without having to see her, I know I hit the nail on the head with the nickname, as I intended, since her sister was the only one who called her that.

Her familiar floral scent fills my nose, the same lavender fragrance. It's still as delicate and sweet as before, hitting my depraved nervous system with unexpected ferocity. Unexpectedly, it's not unpleasant, a good thing if I follow through with my plan.

I pull back enough to brush a kiss against her cheek, the perfect gentleman. Her skin is soft beneath my lips, and it takes all my restraint not to bite her. The urge to inflict even the slightest pain is almost impossible to resist.

Reluctantly, I let go and stuffed my hands in my pockets, pretending nothing was wrong.

She's still clinging to her brother's arm as if it's the only thing keeping her going. I hope so.

Turning my attention to her father, I bow my head. "Thanks for the invitation, Ronney. I appreciate it."

Samantha snaps her head toward her father. Apparently, she didn't know her father was involved in my appearance today.

Ronney chuckles. "You're always welcome here."

She doesn't specify what she means here, but if I'm not mistaken and she's referring to her family, she might be completely unaware of what her daughter did. How else would I think she'd forget that it was her own daughter who put me behind bars? Let alone forgive such a betrayal? Impossible.

Since he seems so confident in his hospitality, I put on extra thick clothing and place a hand on my chest. Right over my heart and the tattoo that will always be my reminder of a hard-learned lesson. Trusting people leaves you with two outcomes: either you win someone for life, or you learn a lifelong lesson. "That means a lot."

"Let me know if you need anything."

I just smile and nod, unsure if I can keep up the act if I speak right now.

Unable to stay in his presence tonight, I pat him on the arm and lean in so only he can hear me. "There are people waiting for me to socialize, but there's still our meeting tomorrow, right?"