The bodyguards were about to drag me away when hurried footsteps rang out from the doorway.

Alice Pruitt, my only sister, shoved the door open and rushed in.

The moment she saw me covered in blood, her eyes went red. She charged forward, pushed the bodyguards aside, and pulled me behind her. "Miles Winfield! You bastard! What did my sister ever do to you to deserve this?"

Alice was the youngest daughter of the Pruitt family. She had a fiery temper and loved me more than anyone.

When I'd severed ties with the family, she'd wired me money in secret, watching over me without a word.

Now, the moment she learned I was in trouble, she'd caught the first flight home from overseas.

She steadied me, her voice breaking. "It's okay. I'm here. I'm taking you home."

Stella's eyes flashed with something vicious when she spotted Alice, but in the blink of an eye she swapped it for a look of terror.

She grabbed Miles's arm, her whole body trembling violently. "Miles, she... is she here to hit me? I'm so scared. My baby..."

As she spoke, she deliberately stumbled a step toward Alice, as if she were about to be shoved.

Miles's eyes went bloodshot instantly. He didn't wait for Alice to explain, didn't listen to a single word. He roared, "Ungrateful little wretch! How dare you lay a hand on Stella!"

Before his voice even faded, Stella snatched a fruit knife from under the coffee table and plunged it straight at Alice.

The strike was fast and savage. The blade buried itself in Alice's chest, and blood sprayed out, spattering across my face.

"Alice!" My vision blurred red. I reached for her.

Her body crumpled into my arms. She looked down at the knife in her chest, then up at me. Her lips moved, but all that came out was a mouthful of blood.

Stella clutched the hem of Miles's shirt. Every trace of that viciousness had vanished, replaced by the trembling fragility of a woman on the verge of tears.

Her shoulders shook, her voice thin as thread. "Miles, I didn't mean to. She was going to push me. I was only defending myself..."

Miles lowered his gaze to her, and in his eyes I saw something I had never seen before: indulgence. Complete, unconditional indulgence.

He raised his hand and patted her back, his tone so gentle it burned. "It's all right. I'm here. No one's going to hurt you."

His arm tightened around Stella, walling her off from me, from Alice, from the spreading pool of blood. Clean. Untouched.

He didn't so much as glance at Alice. His voice was ice. "She brought it on herself."

I held Alice and felt her warmth draining away, degree by degree.

Her fingers clenched the hem of my shirt. Her eyes were full of defiance, full of longing.

I dropped to my knees and slammed my forehead against the floor at Miles's feet, over and over, each impact a dull, wet thud. Blood seeped from my skin almost immediately.

"Miles, I'm begging you. Take Alice to the hospital. She's my only sister. I'm begging you! If you save her, I'll give you every share of Pruitt Group. I'll sign the divorce papers right now. I'll never bother you again. Please..."

My forehead was raw and bloody, my voice so hoarse it was barely audible.

But Miles just watched me with cold, empty eyes. Stella leaned into his ear and whispered, "Better if she dies. Saves us the medical bills. And if she does die, you can pull strings, find witnesses, call it self-defense. Don't let this blow back on you."

Something in Miles's gaze hardened into finality. Beneath that indifference lay undisguised consent.

He kicked my outstretched hand away. His voice held no trace of warmth. Not a single degree.

"Martha, this is what she deserved. She dared to raise a hand against Stella. She should have known the consequences. The hospital? I'm not wasting Stella's recovery time on some troublemaker."

He scooped Stella into his arms and headed upstairs without looking back. Over his shoulder, he called to the servants, "Drag these two lunatics out to the back courtyard. Don't dirty the living room."

"Miles Winfield, you can't do this!"

"Let go of me! I will destroy you both! I'll drag your names through the ground!"

Miles didn't flinch. He watched me being hauled away, eyes devoid of pity.

Stella stood at his side, the corner of her mouth curving into a victor's smile, sharp as a blade twisting into my chest.

The servants didn't dare disobey. They stepped forward to drag me and Alice away.

I clung to Alice with everything I had. I would not let go.

I could feel her breathing growing fainter, her eyes drifting shut. The last look she gave me was filled with nothing but heartache for me.

"Don't be sad, Martha..."

Those were the last words she ever said.

I held Alice's body, sitting on the cold floor.

The blood from her chest had soaked my clothes red, and her body was going cold, inch by inch.

Wind blew in from the back courtyard, bone-cutting and raw, but I couldn't feel any of it.

It was as if a piece of my heart had been carved out alive. The pain was so sharp I couldn't breathe.

Miles Winfield. Stella Fox.

You killed my child. Now you've killed my sister.

This blood debt—I will make you repay it a thousand times over.

I sat in the pool of blood. My tears had run dry. All that remained behind my eyes was a dead, hollow hatred.

That hatred coiled like a vine around my heart, and in the depths of that agony, it gave birth to something else: the resolve to drag them down with me if I had to.

Everything around me blurred. Only two things stayed sharp—Alice's cold body, and the indifferent silhouette of Miles walking away. They flickered before my eyes, over and over.

I knew then. The Martha Pruitt who had loved Miles Winfield with her whole heart was dead.

What survived was nothing but a vengeful ghost with a single purpose.

I raised my hand slowly, wiped the blood from my face, and forced words through clenched teeth, each one cold as ice:

"Follow the original plan. No—activate the final protocol."

"Every piece of evidence. Submit it all. Miles Winfield, Stella Fox, the Winfield Group. Leave nothing standing."

Before this, I'd held back for the sake of seven years together.

Even after I'd uncovered every last conspiracy, I'd still left them one final thread of mercy.

All I'd wanted was to take back what was mine and watch their reputations crumble. That would have been enough.

But Alice's death ground my last shred of softness to dust.

The mercy I'd spared them had become the very reason I would make them pay with everything they had.

From that day on, I changed.

No more endurance. No more pretending. The madness and the hatred in my eyes were beyond hiding now.

I stayed at the Pruitt estate. I kept vigil at Alice's grave. I gathered every last piece of evidence, and I waited for the final reckoning with Miles and Stella.

The funeral dirge hadn't even ended when a court summons was thrust into my hands, the paper blindingly white.

I pinched the thin sheet between my fingers until my knuckles went pale. But my lips curved slowly into a smile—bleak and razor-edged.

Fine.

Old debts and new. We'd settle them all at once.

Miles had sued me on charges of embezzlement and assault. He'd flipped the entire story, accusing me of orchestrating Alice's death, claiming I'd planned the whole thing.

The day the trial opened, every seat in the courtroom was taken.

Miles and Stella sat at the plaintiff's table, impeccably dressed, their expressions dripping with arrogance.

Chloe sat beside Stella, her small hand clasped in the woman's grip. She looked timid, but her eyes held nothing for me but distance.

Their attorney spoke first, piling every charge onto my shoulders, each sentence more vicious than the last:

"The defendant, Martha Pruitt, harboring resentment over her failed marriage, illegally transferred Pruitt Group assets. Consumed by jealousy toward the plaintiff Stella Fox, she committed deliberate assault, and went so far as to murder her own sister and frame others. Her conduct is egregious. We request the harshest penalty."

Right on cue, Stella raised a hand to dab at her tears. Her voice came out soft and wounded:

"Your Honor, Miles and I are truly in love. But Martha could never accept me. She didn't just hit me—she tried to kill me. That knife wound was self-defense. She's capable of hurting her own sister. What wouldn't she do?"

As she spoke, she gave Chloe's hand a gentle squeeze.

Chloe lifted her small face on command, her high, clear voice ringing through the courtroom:

"Your Honor, she's a bad mommy. She was mean to Aunt Stella and she always yelled at me. She's a bad person!"

The child's voice was innocent, but every word pierced like a needle.

Miles picked up seamlessly, his tone frigid:

"Martha Pruitt is mentally unstable. She showed signs of psychological deterioration throughout our marriage. She can't even care for a child properly. The Pruitt Group would be destroyed in her hands. I'm requesting the court grant me interim management authority."

They played off each other perfectly, even using Chloe as a prop, casting themselves as the victims.

And me? I became the unforgivable monster.

My lawyer fought tooth and nail, presenting evidence piece by piece, but the other side dismantled every argument. They'd bought off witnesses, fabricated proof, and sewn every last stitch into a seamless lie.

The judge looked at me, her voice grave. "Defendant Martha Pruitt, are the plaintiff's claims true? Do you have any objections?"

I lifted my gaze toward the plaintiff's bench.

A cold smile curved my lips. I didn't answer. I just stared at them.

Stella squirmed under my gaze and shrank behind Miles, whispering, "Your Honor, look at her. That look on her face proves she's guilty!"

Miles frowned. "Your Honor, she has nothing to say because the facts speak for themselves!"

That was when the courtroom doors swung open.

A clear, bright child's voice shattered the silence. "That's not true! She's lying!"

Every head turned toward the entrance.

A little girl walked in, her hand clasped in a middle-aged man's.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

Her face bore a startling resemblance to mine, like a mirror reflecting me as a child. The man beside her looked familiar too, but my mind spun and couldn't place him.

Miles's expression changed the instant he heard her voice. Stella went rigid, a flash of panic darting through her eyes.

"Who are you? Who let you in here?" Miles barked, his voice sharp enough to cut, trying to mask the fear bleeding through.

The little girl pulled free of the man's hand and walked to the center of the courtroom. She looked up at the judge.

"Ma'am, my name is Sylvia Pruitt. I'm here to testify. They're lying!"

"You're making things up!" Stella screamed, her voice cracking with hysteria. "She's a child! Who's going to believe a word she says?"

"My words count," the little girl said. "And so does this."

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small USB drive, holding it up to the judge.

"On here, there are recordings of you talking with the bad man, proof that you bribed a nurse to swap the babies, and a recording of you putting drugs in my mom's medicine. All of it is real!"

A bailiff took the drive and played it for the court.

The first thing that appeared was a high-definition video. On screen, two figures held each other close.

"Once I get my hands on all the Pruitt assets, I'll divorce Martha immediately. Leave her with nothing."

"Mm. It was always supposed to be ours."

Then came the transfer records, the conversations about swapping the babies, the audio of the poisoning, the conspiracy to strip the Pruitt empire, the plot to kill Alice. And then, in unflinching clarity, footage of Stella driving a blade into Alice's chest.

Every piece of evidence detonated like a bomb in that courtroom.

The proof was overwhelming. Irrefutable. Absolute.

I stared at it all, then at the little girl whose eyes looked so much like mine, and my vision blurred.

Seven years.

I had waited seven years for her.

And she was finally here.

The little girl turned around. She looked at me, then walked toward me, one small step at a time.

She tilted her face up, tears pooling in her eyes but refusing to fall. Her voice was soft and steady, ringing through the silent courtroom with perfect clarity.

"Mom."