I died beneath the fireworks over Victoria Harbor.

While streamers of light burst across the sky, Otis Vance had his arms around my stepsister Carissa Henson, celebrating in his Summit Peak villa. He'd just secured the final piece of the Walker Realty puzzle.

And I had been injected with an air embolism by his private physician.

"Mrs. Vance had a severe heart condition. The sudden death was natural."

That was the story Otis gave the press.

Every newspaper in Harbor Bay mourned the passing of Mrs. Vance.

They said he was inconsolable, hadn't slept in three days, even canceled the company's annual gala.

The whole city praised Otis Vance for his devotion.

What no one knew was that my heart condition had worsened because Otis himself had been swapping out the ingredients in my daily medication.

"Carissa is carrying my child. She can't stay hidden in the shadows forever."

"You're sitting in the seat that belongs to her. She can't even go to a public hospital for her prenatal checkups."

"Marina Henson, you've always loved her more than anyone. Think of it as helping her one last time."

His voice, when he said those words, was as gentle as if he were coaxing me to swallow a piece of candy.

After I died, Otis collapsed in tears at my funeral.

The media coverage was relentless: "Billionaire Otis Vance devastated by the loss of his wife, breaks down repeatedly at the service."

His devoted-husband image earned him Walker Realty's final trust, and the billion-dollar deal closed without a hitch.

Three months later, he married Carissa Henson.

Six months after that, he climbed into the top five on Harbor Bay's wealth rankings.

Otis and Carissa lived in decadent bliss, not a care in the world.

And all I could do was watch them, eyes burning with a hatred that tasted like blood.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Three years in the past.

Crystal chandeliers scattered prismatic light across the grand ballroom of The Peninsula Hotel. Otis Vance's mother, Valerie Lyons, was smiling at a roomful of guests as she made her announcement.

"Our Otis and the eldest Miss Henson will be married next month."

My father, Dudley Henson, raised his glass in agreement. My stepmother, Layla Fox, smiled with practiced grace.

And my dear sister Carissa was clinging to Otis's arm, a flicker of barely concealed triumph in her eyes.

I looked at all of it, and I laughed.

——

"Marina, what are you standing around for? Get over here and make a toast."

My father's voice carried from across the room, edged with displeasure.

I pulled my gaze away from Otis and picked up the champagne flute in front of me.

"Coming, Dad."

I walked over with a smile. As I passed Carissa, my steps faltered for just a fraction of a second.

She was wearing a pale yellow couture gown.

The same one I'd admired at the atelier last month but hadn't had the nerve to buy.

I'd thought it was too extravagant at the time. Over four thousand dollars, enough to cover a regular family's expenses for months.

But the sales associate told me afterward that Carissa had gone in the very next day and bought it on Otis's black card.

"You look so beautiful today, Marina."

Carissa beamed at me, all sweetness, that tiny beauty mark near the corner of her eye making her look impossibly delicate.

In my previous life, I'd thought her smile made her look like a harmless little rabbit.

Now I knew better. That was no rabbit. It was a viper wearing an innocent skin.

"You look lovely yourself, Carissa."

I smiled back at her.

Behind it, nothing but cold, silent contempt.

Valerie Lyons walked over with her wine glass, looked me up and down, and gave a satisfied nod.

"Marina carries herself more like a proper matriarch every day. Our Otis is a lucky man to have you."

In my previous life, those words would have left me flushed and grateful, ready to drop to my knees and thank her for the honor.

Now all I heard was the irony.

Valerie Lyons had never been a kind woman.

After Otis's father died, she was the one who held the Vance empire together while her son was still a boy. Her ruthlessness was legendary across the Financial District.

The Vance family didn't want me. They wanted the land parcel near Kaitak Airfield that my father controlled.

It was the last prime parcel in Harbor Bay. Whoever secured it would dominate the city's real-estate landscape for the next decade.

My father, Dudley Henson, was chairman of Henson Architecture on paper. In reality, he was the biggest land broker in the entire Harbor Bay property circle.

The land he'd stockpiled was enough to bring any developer in the city to their knees.

That was why Otis Vance had been willing to marry me.

Not because he loved me. Because of my father's land.

In my previous life, I didn't understand that until the moment I died.

"You're too kind, Aunt Valerie."

I dipped my head slightly, respectful but not subservient.

"Marrying Otis is the real blessing."

A flicker of satisfaction passed through Valerie's eyes.

Otis appeared at my side without my noticing. His long fingers settled lightly on my waist.

His body heat seeped through the thin fabric of my gown, and every muscle in my body went rigid.

In my previous life, those hands had held me when I was at my most vulnerable, gripped mine through labor, spooned porridge into my mouth at my hospital bed.

Those same hands had placed the swapped medication between my lips.

"You look beautiful tonight, Marina."

His voice was low and warm, threaded with a resonance like a cello's deepest note.

I lifted my gaze to meet his. Dark, fathomless eyes.

Otis Vance was thirty-two years old, the youngest billionaire in Harbor Bay.

Sharp bone structure, a brow ridge cut like a blade.

When his thin lips pressed together, he looked coolly untouchable; when he smiled, he was as gentle as a spring breeze.

That face had fooled all of Harbor Bay.

It had fooled me for a lifetime.

"Thank you." I smiled, then shifted half a step to the side, easing away from his hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

This time around, I could see straight through the act.

Otis's hand hovered in midair. A brief, arrested pause.

He glanced at me, a trace of confusion surfacing in his gaze before he could smooth it away.

In my previous life, at events like these, I would have been pressed against him, unwilling to leave even an inch of space. The idea of me pulling away would have been unthinkable.

"What's wrong?"

His voice dropped low.

"Nothing. Just a little warm."

I tossed the words out carelessly and turned toward the balcony.

The Peninsula Hotel's balcony faced Victoria Harbor.

I drew in a deep breath and let the evening breeze cool the flush on my skin.

Footsteps behind me.

I didn't turn around. I already knew who it was.

"Marina."

Otis came to stand beside me and held out a glass of ice water. "Something on your mind lately?"

I took the glass but didn't drink.

"No. The wedding's getting close. Probably just nerves."

"Nervous about what? You have me."

He said it with absolute certainty, as though stating a fact no one could dispute.

In my previous life, that single sentence had moved me to tears.

Now all I wanted to do was laugh.

"Otis, I have a question."

I turned around, leaned back against the railing, and tipped my face up to look at him.

Moonlight traced every line of his profile in sharp relief.

"Go ahead."

"If one day Carissa and I were both in danger, who would you save first?"

His expression locked for a fraction of a second.

A fraction so small most people would have missed it. I didn't.

"Where's this coming from?"

He laughed and ruffled my hair, the gesture so practiced it might as well have been rehearsed a thousand times.

"Just curious."

I tilted my head and gave him my most innocent smile.

He was quiet for two seconds. Then: "You, of course."

I smiled.

What a load of garbage.

In my past life, Carissa and I had been kidnapped together.

While I lay in a pool of my own blood, he'd gone to Carissa first, made sure she was okay, and only then came to hold me.

He thought I'd lost consciousness. What he didn't realize was that I'd seen every last second of it.

"Good to know."

I rose onto my toes and pressed a light kiss to his cheek. "I'm going to run to the restroom."

The instant I turned, I caught a reflection in the balcony's glass door: Carissa, standing just behind it, wineglass clenched in her hand, knuckles white.

She was listening.

And I had put on that little show on purpose.

The closeness with Otis made my stomach turn on instinct, but if it could make the two of them just as sick, it was worth it.

I let my lips curl upward and walked toward the restroom in my four-inch heels, every step sure and steady.

This time around, I was the hunter.

In front of the restroom mirror, I studied the face staring back at me.

Twenty-four. The best years of my life, still ahead.

My features weren't the kind that stopped traffic, but they were clean, striking in their own way.

A sharpness around the brows and eyes that Carissa's delicate, doe-eyed look could never match.

In my past life, I'd convinced myself I wasn't pretty enough, wasn't soft enough, wasn't likable enough, so I bent over backward for everyone, gave until there was nothing left to give.

And where did that get me?

I was the first one to die.

I fished my phone out of my clutch and scrolled to a number I hadn't dialed in a long time.

"Hello? Colin Dickerson? It's Marina."

An older voice came through, startled and warm with recognition.

"Marina? Miss Henson? What made you think of old Colin after all this time?"

Colin had been my mother's personal driver and was now the best private investigator in all of Harbor Bay.

After my mother passed, Layla had pushed him out of the Henson household. These days he ran a small detective agency to make ends meet.

"Colin, I need you to look into a few people for me."

"Name them, Miss Henson."

"First, I need everything you can find on the relationship between Otis Vance and Carissa Henson. Every detail."

"Second, I want all of the Vance Group's overseas transaction records for the past five years."

"And last..."

I paused, lowering my voice.

"Look into my father's accounts."

Silence on the other end. A few long seconds.

"Miss Henson, are you saying you want to..."

"Colin. Just tell me whether you can do it."

"I can."

His voice hardened with sudden resolve. "Your mother was the kindest person I ever knew. Now that she's gone, these old bones of mine ought to do right by her daughter."

I hung up and turned back to the mirror to touch up my lipstick.

True red.

In my past life I'd worn dusty rose, soft and harmless.

Not anymore. I wanted to be sharp, wanted to be unmistakable, wanted every last person to see that Marina Henson was no one's pushover.

By the time I stepped out of the restroom, the banquet was winding down.

Guests were drifting toward the exits in twos and threes. My father, Dudley, was flushed from drinking, laughing loudly with a cluster of old associates.

Layla Fox walked over and looped her arm through mine with practiced warmth.

"Marina, you did wonderfully tonight. Mrs. Lyons was very pleased with you."

Her perfume, some new Cartier release, was so heavy it almost made me sneeze.

In my past life, I'd thought that was how elegance smelled.

Now all I could smell was the fakeness underneath.

"Thank you, Aunt Layla."

I gave her a small smile.

"By the way, where's Carissa? I just saw her on the balcony a moment ago, and now she's vanished."

Something flickered across Layla's face, quick and uneasy.

"She wasn't feeling well. She left early."

"Not feeling well?" I arranged my expression into one of concern. "Is it serious? Maybe I should go check on her."