Chloe didn't wait for their reaction. She snapped her suitcase shut, dragged it out of the bedroom, and walked out the door without a backward glance. The slam of the door behind her was the period at the end of a chapter of her life.

Downstairs, she dialed the number on the black card.

"Mr. Shaw."

"Ms. Foster," Lucas's voice was professional and calm. "A car is waiting for you at the corner. I've arranged a suite at The Carlyle. Will that be suitable for your temporary needs?"

"Perfectly," Chloe said. "Thank you."

The Carlyle suite was breathtaking, with sweeping views of Central Park. But Chloe barely noticed. She dropped her suitcase and immediately called the one person she could still trust.

Her agent, Regina Hayes.

"Chloe! Oh my God, are you okay?" Regina's voice was a frantic mix of anger and concern. "I heard a rumor... about Evan and that snake Mika. Please tell me it's not true."

"It's true, Regina," Chloe said, her voice steady.

"Evan is a bastard! I'm going to kill him! And Mika! I'm going to ruin them!"

A small, cold smile touched Chloe's lips. "Yes, we are together."

The next day, Evan Hart called. His tone was a grotesque imitation of sincerity. He apologized profusely. He begged for her forgiveness. Then came the real reason for his call.

"Chloe, I know I have no right to ask this," he began, his voice dripping with false humility. "But Mika... she needs your help."

Chloe remained silent, letting him squirm.

"She's having a difficult time with the pregnancy," he lied smoothly. "She sprained her ankle. She can't walk in the HFR jewelry show tonight. It's the biggest opportunity of her career."

Chloe knew Mika's runway walk was mediocre at best. She could never handle a major show like HFR on her own.

The mask was the key—HFR's creative director had designed the show around the concept of "anonymous elegance," with every model wearing a silver mask that concealed the upper half of the face. It was the one show where a body double could actually work, and Evan knew it.

"The thing is, Chloe," Evan continued, "you two have such a similar build. And your walk... it's legendary. No one would know the difference. Just this once. As a final favor. I'll pay you, of course. A generous amount."

It was the perfect trap. They wanted to use her one last time, squeeze the final bit of value from her talent. Then, when the truth inevitably came out, they would paint her as a desperate, scheming ex, hungry for attention.

Chloe let a long pause hang in the air. She made a small, choked sound, as if holding back tears.

"Okay, Evan," she whispered, feigning heartbreak and weakness. "For the last time. I'll do it."

"Thank you, Chloe! You won't regret this," he said, relief flooding his voice.

"Oh, I know," she said, her voice flat.

She hung up, and the mask of vulnerability fell away, replaced by a look of cold, calculating fury. She immediately dialed Regina.

"They took the bait," Chloe said, her voice sharp as glass.

"That son of a bitch," Regina hissed. "What's the plan?"

"First, call every media contact you have. Tell them to be at the HFR show tonight. Hint that there's a huge story about to break."

"Done," Regina said instantly.

"Second," Chloe continued, "I need you to find out the real date of Mika's first prenatal appointment. Get the hospital records if you can. We'll need that later."

"Consider it done. Chloe... are you sure about this? They're going to crucify you."

"Let them try," Chloe said. "They think I'm a pawn they can sacrifice. It's time to show them how a pawn becomes a queen."

Later that evening, Lucas Shaw arrived with a catered dinner and a few shopping bags containing essentials Damien had sent.

"Ms. Foster," he said, his expression unreadable. "Mr. Knight asked me to give you this." He handed her a tablet. "It's the preliminary background check on Hart and Brooks."

Chloe scrolled through the file. Her stomach tightened. It wasn't the first time. Or the second. The report detailed three separate occasions in the past year where Mika had faked an injury or illness, and Chloe had secretly walked in her place. Evan had covered it all up, feeding her lies about last-minute scheduling conflicts.

She had been so blind. The anger burned hot in her chest, a cleansing fire.

She thought of all the times Evan had canceled plans at the last minute, blaming "family emergencies" he never explained—always vague, always just plausible enough.

A sick sister. A hospital visit. She'd asked once, early on, what was wrong with his sister, and he had brushed her off with a curt "It's complicated." She'd never pushed. She should have.

She closed the file and typed a message.

To: Damien Knight

Thank you. And for the record, I accepted their 'request.' I have a plan.

His reply came almost instantly.

Need any help?

Chloe's fingers hovered over the screen. It would be so easy to let him handle it. To let his immense power crush them without her lifting a finger. But she couldn't. This was personal.

Not yet. I want them to see the piece they threw away deliver the checkmate.

In his penthouse office overlooking the city, Damien Knight read her message. A slow, dangerous smile spread across his face.

His new wife was far more interesting than he'd imagined.

Chloe put down her phone. She pulled up the details for the HFR show.