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."

"No, no, that's fine."

Layla waved her hands quickly. "She said she wants some time alone. Don't bother her."

I nodded, though inside I was laughing.

Whenever Carissa wasn't "feeling well," she was usually off seeing Otis.

In my past life, I'd been gullible enough to believe it. I even had someone send a bowl of bird's nest porridge to her room.

Looking back, she probably dumped that porridge straight down the toilet.

After the banquet, the driver took me back to the Henson Estate in Crescent Bay.

As the car passed through the Harbor Bay tunnel, my phone buzzed.

A message from Colin.

"Miss Henson, I've got a lead on the first thing you asked me to look into."

"Otis Vance and Carissa Henson have been in contact since three years ago. You and he had only just met."

I stared at the message. My fingers tightened around the phone.

Three years ago.

Back when I was still in London finishing my master's.

Otis had reached out to me through my father's connections, saying he wanted to discuss a joint project.

I thought he genuinely valued my talent.

Turns out the whole thing was a setup from the very beginning.

I was the prey. He was the hunter.

And Carissa was the one who helped him lay the trap.

The car pulled up to the estate gates. I stepped out and noticed the living room lights were still on.

Carissa was sitting on the sofa, cradling a mug of warm milk, the TV tuned to a late-night financial broadcast.

The moment she saw me walk in, a sweet smile spread across her face.

"You're back! How was the banquet?"

"Fine."

I kicked off my heels and sat down across from her.

"Marina, there's something I want to tell you."

She set her mug down, her expression turning serious.

"Go ahead."

"I… I think I've fallen for someone."

Something flickered inside me, but my face gave nothing away.

"Who?"

Carissa bit her lip, as if she were wrestling with some monumental decision.

"It's… it's Otis."

When she said his name, her eyes were bright and glassy, tinged with a girl's shyness and longing.

She'd confessed the same way in my past life.

Back then, I thought she was being brave and honest. I was stupid enough to comfort her, telling her there was nothing wrong with having feelings for someone.

And then she showed up at my wedding in a white gown, standing at Otis's side.

"Carissa." I looked at her, my voice terrifyingly calm. "You do know he's my fiancé, right?"

"I know."

Her eyes rimmed red, her voice cracking with the first tremor of tears.

"That's exactly why I feel so terrible."

"But feelings aren't something you can control. I've been suffering too…"

She broke down mid-sentence, shoulders hitching, tears spilling like rain on pear blossoms. The picture of delicate, pitiful beauty.

In my past life, those tears had softened me completely. I even wiped them away for her.

Now I felt nothing. I simply sat there and watched her perform.

"Carissa, are you sure it's him you like, or is it his money?"

Her sobbing hitched.

"How can you say that?"

She lifted her head, eyes raw and red. "You really think I'm that kind of person?"

Of course you are.

I answered her silently, a cold laugh trapped behind my teeth.

"Just asking."

I stood up. "It's late. Get some sleep. We have the wedding dress fitting tomorrow."

"Marina…" Carissa stopped me. "You won't tell Mom and Dad, will you?"

I glanced back at her.

Tears still clung to her cheeks, but her eyes were perfectly, unnervingly clear.

"Don't worry. I won't."

I turned and headed upstairs, the faintest trace of an ice-cold smile curving my lips.

Of course I wouldn't tell Mom and Dad.

Because what I wanted was for the two of them to lose control on their own, to expose themselves without any help from me.

The next day, at a bridal boutique in the Financial District.

I stood in a pure white wedding gown, studying my reflection in the mirror.

In my previous life, I'd cried with joy when I tried on this very dress.

I'd believed it was a symbol of the happiness waiting for me.

Now, all that white did was hurt my eyes.

"You look so beautiful, Marina."

Carissa stood beside me, her eyes brimming with envy.

"Otis is going to be absolutely speechless when he sees you."

"You think?" I spun in front of the mirror. "Carissa, why don't you try one on too? We're already here."

Carissa blinked, then waved her hands.

"No, no, this is your fitting. I couldn't possibly..."

"Don't be silly. Just try it."

I pressed another gown into her hands with a smile.

"Look at this one. It's a mermaid cut. It would be perfect on your figure."

Carissa hesitated for a moment, then disappeared into the fitting room.

Five minutes later, she walked out in the mermaid gown.

In the mirror, she looked like a siren fresh from the sea.

A slender waist, delicate collarbones, an air of fragile beauty that made you want to protect her.

"Does it look good?"

She asked in a small, shy voice.

"It does." I meant it. "Better than me, honestly."

A flush crept across Carissa's cheeks, and she lowered her gaze, fidgeting with the hem of the skirt.

That was when the boutique door swung open.

Otis walked in.

He wore a charcoal suit today.

No tie. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, baring a sliver of collarbone.

"Marina, I'm here to pick you up..."

His words died the instant he saw Carissa.

She stood before the mirror in that wedding gown, afternoon light pouring through the floor-to-ceiling windows, gilding her in gold.

Something shifted in Otis's eyes.

The change was subtle. If I hadn't spent a lifetime memorizing every micro-expression on that face, if I hadn't been watching for it on purpose, I never would have caught it.

His pupils dilated. His Adam's apple dipped and rose. The rhythm of his breathing changed.

That was the reaction of a man looking at the woman he loved.

"Otis."

Carissa lifted her head, offering a bashful smile.

"Marina made me try it on. Does it look okay?"

"It does."

His voice went rough for a split second.

He recovered fast, crossing the room to me and sliding an arm around my waist.

"But my bride is still the most beautiful one here."

I laughed inside. Cold, bitter laughter.

Out loud, I kept my voice sweet. "Otis, I think Carissa looks so much better in a wedding gown than I do. Why don't we let her be my maid of honor and wear this dress to the ceremony?"

Otis's expression stiffened, just barely.

A maid of honor in a wedding gown?

That was practically begging to be upstaged at your own wedding.

The old me had been blind to games like these.

I'd believed sisterly love mattered more than anything.

So when Carissa showed up at my wedding in a bridal gown and stole every camera in the room, I hadn't blamed her.

This time, I was the one making the suggestion first.

And I planned to fan the flames even higher by sending previews and invitations to every media outlet in Harbor Bay.

I wanted the entire city to see Carissa Henson standing next to Otis Vance in a wedding dress.

If there was going to be humiliation, we were all going to share it. Better than being the only fool.

"That doesn't seem appropriate," Otis said, frowning.

His brow creased.

"What's inappropriate about it?" I tilted my head. "Carissa is my sister. What's wrong with letting her dress up a little?"

Carissa chimed in right on cue.

"That's right, Otis. I'm happy to play the supporting role for my sister."