I saw him first—a man whose eyes were sharp and dangerous, his gaze locking onto mine. Before I could react, his hand shot out and gripped my arm, pulling me back.

“Not so fast, young lady,” he said with a smirk, amusement in his voice.

I screamed, panic rising in my chest. “Help! Somebody, help!”

His laugh was cold and detached. “Scream all you want. No one's coming. After that explosion, everyone’s too busy running for their lives. You’re stuck with me now.”

“What do you want from me?” I demanded, my voice trembling. “Are you going to kill me?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Kill you? No. I need an alibi.”

I felt my stomach twist in horror. “No. I won’t be a part of whatever this is!”

“You think you have a choice?” He tightened his grip. “You saw too much. You're not leaving until I’m done with you.”

Fury replaced my fear as I met his gaze. “Do you even know who I am? If you did, you’d think twice before using me.”

His smirk deepened. “Miss Tracie Whitaker, Europe’s wealthiest heiress.”

A cold shiver ran down my spine. How did he know?

“I’ve had my eye on you for a while,” he said. “And now you’re mine.”

Before I could reply, the door burst open, and a new figure entered—a lean man with a grim expression. “Boss, the elevator’s working. We need to move. The helicopter’s out, and the police are swarming.”

Bobbie, so that was his name, nodded. “We’ll blend with the crowd. Stick to the plan.”

He dragged me into the elevator, his men flanking us. As the doors shut, he leaned in close, his voice a quiet whisper. “Perfect crime. No one will ever tie me to this.”

“You have a witness,” I spat. “Me.”

His smirk didn’t falter. “Oh, but you wouldn’t risk your family’s reputation, would you, Miss Whitaker?”

I stiffened, glaring at him. “Why did you kill Penny? What’s your real goal here?”

He answered simply, “Justice. Do you know how many families he ruined with his scams? He got what he deserved.”

“And that justifies murder?” I snapped.

“There’s no justice in this world,” he said coldly. “Not for the poor, anyway.”

The elevator doors opened to chaos. The lobby was a scene of frantic police officers, terrified guests running in every direction, and bloodied security guards sprawled across the floor.

Bobbie tightened his grip on my arm as we navigated the madness. My mind raced, searching for a way out.

Then I saw him—Daniel. He stood protectively by Ginger, his arm around her. Her face was pale, but when her eyes found me, her expression twisted into one of fury.

“That’s her!” Ginger screamed, pointing at me. “She did this! She’s the one who killed Penny!”

My mouth dropped open in shock. “What?” I gasped.

“This is because Daniel left you, isn’t it?” Ginger sneered. “You couldn’t handle the rejection, so you killed his father!”

I turned desperately to Daniel, my voice pleading. “You know me. I wouldn’t—”

“I don’t know you,” Daniel said, his voice as cold as ice. “Not anymore.”

I slapped him across the face, the sound echoing through the chaos. “You think I’m capable of murder?” I hissed.

“Miss Tracie?” A police officer stepped forward. “We need you to come with us for questioning.”

I froze. “I didn’t do this! It was him!” I pointed at Bobbie, who stood calmly beside me, his expression amused as he watched the scene unfold.

The officer raised an eyebrow. “Him? That’s impossible. He’s Bobbie Howard.”

“So what?” I shot back.

“He’s a wealthy businessman, an Ivy League graduate, and an exceptional athlete,” the officer explained. “Why would someone like him have any reason to kill Penny Eddy?”

“And I do?” I demanded, my voice rising with frustration.

The officer didn’t flinch. “Yes, people like you always cause trouble. Now, come with us.”

Ginger smirked, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “See? Look at her. She’s wearing stolen jewelry. There’s no way she could afford that.”

“I’m not a thief!” I screamed, my voice shaking with fury. “I’m Tracie Whitaker, the daughter of Europe’s wealthiest family!”

The room went silent for a moment before a ripple of laughter spread through the crowd.

Bobbie leaned in close, his voice a mocking whisper. “See how quickly they judge? Do you understand what I mean now about justice?”

I glared at him, anger and helplessness roiling inside me. “You did this,” I said, grinding my teeth.

“No, babe,” he replied softly, his tone laced with mockery. “They did this to you because they think you’re poor.”

His words sank in like a heavy weight, crushing any hope I had left. I was trapped, and no one would believe me.

The interrogation room felt like a prison—cold, stifling, and oppressive. I sat motionless in the metal chair, my wrists resting on the table as I refused to acknowledge the officers looming over me.

"Miss Tracie," one officer said, his voice calm but firm. "Cooperate, and this will go much quicker. Tell us why you were near Penny Eddy's room."

I kept my gaze fixed on the table, unwilling to give him an answer.

"Miss Tracie," another officer urged, his tone growing impatient, "if you want this to end, you need to be honest with us."

Finally, I lifted my eyes to meet his. "I want a lawyer," I said, my voice unwavering.

One of the officers sighed, clearly frustrated. "We’ll get to that, but for now, you need to answer our questions."

I leaned back in the chair, crossing my arms. "If you let me make a call—to my mother—you’ll get the answers you’re looking for. But you won’t, will you?"

The officers exchanged a brief glance but remained silent.

"I demand to call her," I insisted, my voice rising slightly. "If you do, you'll understand exactly who I am and the truth about everything."

"Enough," one of the officers snapped, slamming his hand on the table. "You’re not calling anyone until we’re finished here."

The door swung open, and Ginger entered with Daniel trailing behind her. Ginger’s eyes immediately landed on the jewelry I was wearing.

"Take it off," she ordered, her voice as cold as ice.

I raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"The necklace," Ginger repeated, her finger pointing at it. "And the rest of the jewelry. You’re a thief, Tracie. You don’t deserve to wear them."

I clenched my jaw in defiance. "These are mine."

Ginger let out a laugh, as if the idea were absurd. "Yours? Don’t make me laugh. I’ll hold onto them until the real Lady Whitaker shows up. Let’s see how long you can keep pretending."

"Ginger," Daniel said hesitantly, but she shot him a glare, silencing him instantly.

She turned back to me with a sharp look. "Just because your last name is Whitaker doesn’t mean you’re part of the family. I’ve known you since college, Tracie. The Whitaker family doesn’t even have a daughter. Stop pretending."

I bit my tongue, resisting the urge to argue. Of course, they didn’t know the truth about my family—my parents had never spoken of me publicly. It was a choice I made to protect myself, but now, seeing everything unfold, it felt like the time to reveal who I truly was.

Ginger glanced at Daniel. "We should take the jewelry and return it to Lady Whitaker. Maybe she’ll reconsider the partnership."

"That sounds like a good plan," Daniel agreed, his voice distant.

I scoffed. "Your father’s dead, and all you care about is money?" I shook my head in disgust. "It almost makes me think you wanted him gone."

"Shut up, Tracie," Ginger snapped, and for the first time, I could see the true malice in her eyes. The more I saw her, the more I loathed her—and Daniel too. He should’ve been the one who died.

Ginger stepped closer to me, her eyes narrowing as she glared at the necklace around my neck. "Take it off," she demanded, pointing at the chain. "You don’t have the right to wear that."

I raised an eyebrow and met her glare with one of my own. "I’m not giving you anything. It’s mine."

"Yours?" Ginger let out a sarcastic laugh. "Stop lying. You stole it. Hand it over, or I’ll take it from you myself."

She reached for the necklace, her fingers brushing the gold chain, but I quickly stepped back, swatting her hand away.

"Don’t touch me," I snapped, my temper flaring.

"You don’t deserve it!" Ginger hissed, her anger erupting as she lunged at me again.

We struggled, her nails scraping against my neck as I pushed her hands away. The noise drew the attention of both the police officers and Daniel.

"Enough!" A commanding voice rang out, silencing the chaos in an instant.

Everyone turned toward the door, where a tall, poised woman stood—my mother.

“Lady Leanne,” Ginger said, her voice faltering as she stepped back. “You’re here… I didn’t expect you to come in person.” She pointed at me quickly. “This woman stole your jewelry. We're sure of it. You should punish her!”

Leanne Whitaker’s eyes swept over the room, her expression unreadable as she looked at the jewelry, then back at Ginger. “Yes, that jewelry is mine,” she said calmly.

Ginger smirked, satisfied, and turned to Daniel. “See? I told you. Anyway, Miss Whitaker, we’re here to return it and—”

“So,” she said, cutting her off, “you must be the fiancée of that bastard who hurt my daughter.”

Ginger’s face dropped. “What?”

“You heard me,” Leanne said coolly. “Hurt. My. Daughter.”

Ginger blinked rapidly, her mind racing to process the words. “Your… daughter?” she asked, her voice shaky as she slowly turned to me.

Leanne gestured toward me with a graceful wave. “Yes. Tracie Whitaker, my daughter. Why else do you think she has my jewelry?"

The room erupted in gasps.

Ginger and Daniel turned to stare at me, their mouths open in shock.

Daniel shook his head, his voice trembling. “How… How is that possible? No, I've known Tracie since high school and she's this poor---”

I stood, meeting his disbelieving gaze. “Poor girl? Well, too bad, I wasn't the poor girl you thought. If only you believed me when I said it.”

The police officers shifted uncomfortably, their authority shrinking under Leanne’s piercing glare.

“We didn’t know, Lady Whitaker,” one officer stammered. “We—”

“You’ll regret shaming my daughter like this,” Leanne said coldly. “Your department will hear from my lawyers. Tracie, let’s go.”

I followed her out of the room, my mind still spinning. As we stepped outside, I spotted a car waiting by the curb. Leaning against it was Bobbie, a cigarette between his fingers. He looked calm, unbothered, and irritatingly handsome.

His dark eyes flicked to mine, and a smirk tugged at his lips.

“Mom,” I said, stopping in my tracks, “What is that man doing here? He’s the killer. He’s the one who killed Penny and I was almost framed for it!”

Leanne glanced at him before looking back at me. A small, knowing smile curved her lips.

“I know, Tracie,” she said softly. “And that man is also your fiancé.”

“How is Bobbie my fiancé? He’s a killer. I saw him murder Penny Eddy. How could you allow this?”

Leanne didn’t even flinch at my accusation. Before she could respond, Bobbie, leaning casually against the car, flicked his cigarette to the ground and stepped closer.

“You saw me kill him?” he asked, his lips curving into an infuriating smirk.

“Yes,” I snapped, standing my ground despite the way his presence unsettled me. “Why do you need to ask when you were there! Stop fooling me! I should even tell the police that—”

He leaned in, his dark eyes locking onto mine. His voice dropped to a near whisper, teasing and dangerous. “If you don’t stop saying I killed him,” he said, his breath warm against my ear, “I’m going to kiss you.”

My breath hitched, and my face burned with anger and embarrassment. “You wouldn’t dare,” I muttered, taking a step back.

His smirk deepened, but he didn’t say anything else. I turned sharply to my mother, my frustration spilling over. “I need an explanation about what’s going on. Now.”

Leanne, unbothered by the tension, gestured toward the waiting car. “You’ll have all your answers when we get back to the estate.”

The ride to the Whitaker estate was silent, but my mind wasn’t. It had been years since I’d set foot on the sprawling property, but the moment we arrived, memories came rushing back.

The grand gates opened, revealing manicured gardens and the imposing mansion at the center. The fountain in the courtyard still sparkled under the sun, just as I remembered.

As I stepped out of the car, my chest tightened. The scent of blooming flowers brought back flashes of my childhood—running through these very gardens, carefree and innocent. But those memories felt distant now, almost foreign.

I walked through the front doors, my heels clicking against the polished marble floors. Everything was as it had been years ago, yet it felt different. The warmth I once associated with this place was replaced by an uneasy chill.

My mother’s voice broke through my thoughts. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”

I turned to her, my jaw clenched. “Stop avoiding the question. Why did you allow Bobbie—a mafia boss and murderer—into this family? And why, of all people, would you arrange for me to marry him?”

Leanne’s expression didn’t falter. She walked slowly to the grand sitting room, gesturing for me to follow. I did, the tension between us building with each step.

When we reached the room, she turned to me, her face calm but her voice firm. “If Bobbie is a murderer,” she said, her eyes piercing mine, “then are you also calling us murderers?”