He said, "I can save you."

"But on one condition: you live the rest of your life under a new identity. Are you willing?"

I nodded.

"You know the rest."

I shrugged and glanced at Arthur.

After that, Arthur arranged the best plastic surgery money could buy.

Two months later, when I finally opened my eyes and saw the face staring back at me in the mirror, a face that wasn't mine, I knew I had survived.

I was alive again.

Even if it meant living as a stand-in for Arthur Stephens' late wife.

It was enough.

Enough to uncover the truth about what had happened all those years ago.

Enough to get my revenge.

Arthur smiled and ruffled my hair.

"When I first found you, you looked like a stray cat dragged through a storm."

"Hard to believe it's already been seven years."

"Well, now that you're back in Seaview City, do whatever you need to do. Don't hold back."

He raised his glass to me, calm and unhurried, every inch the gentleman.

"I'll have your back."

I nodded again and raised my glass in return.

"Some debts can never be repaid."

My gaze drifted to the photograph of Lucille Harding hanging on the wall, and the warmth bled from my eyes.

Maybe they were right.

Lucille Harding should have died seven years ago.

What crawled out of that wreckage was something else entirely. A vengeful ghost, risen from hell with one purpose.

A few days after returning, I hosted a gala under the name Mrs. Stephens, inviting every person of influence in Seaview City.

Jackson Gilbert and Millicent were on the guest list.

They were delighted.

Seven years as Mrs. Gilbert had transformed Millicent. She was no longer the penniless girl she'd once been. Wealth had draped her in gold and diamonds and given her the polished air of old money.

But standing in the glittering ballroom, she still couldn't help glancing around, wide-eyed and curious, like a child at her first black-tie event.

"Jackson, who exactly is this Arthur Stephens?"

Jackson chuckled.

"You've never heard of him?"

"Arthur Stephens. Sole heir to the Stephens Group. He controls development rights to half of Southgate. Even the Gilbert family has to stay on his good side if we want contracts in Seaview City."

Jackson glanced down at the woman beside him, whose expression had shifted.

The smile on his lips cooled.

"And that's just the surface. The Stephens family runs deeper than you can imagine."

"Point is, don't cross him."

Millicent stopped walking. Her gaze locked onto me across the room, where I stood chatting with a circle of guests.

"What about his wife, Sophia Simmons? First time meeting her and she's already so cold. She doesn't exactly seem approachable. And I keep feeling like..."

"Like what?"

"Like she reminds me of someone. Lucille Harding."

Jackson's face darkened instantly.

"Don't ever say that again."

"Lucille is dead. She's been dead for years."

The air between them turned heavy. No matter how much Millicent hated to admit it, there was one truth she couldn't escape.

Jackson had never forgotten Lucille Harding.

Not even after all this time.

The realization burned through Millicent like acid. Jealousy coiled in her chest, white-hot and suffocating.

She stared in my direction, a flicker of venom crossing her eyes, so brief it was nearly invisible.

She wanted to grind Lucille Harding's bones to dust.

But Lucille Harding was already dead.

Now, Millicent was the only Mrs. Gilbert. The only wife at Jackson's side.

...

I was in the middle of a lively conversation with a group of businessmen, trading pleasantries and clinking glasses.

But the entire time, I felt a gaze clinging to me like a shadow.

I pretended not to notice Jackson's searching gaze.

He held out until he couldn't anymore, then picked up his glass and walked over.

"Mrs. Stephens."

Jackson spoke with easy confidence. "I just overheard your conversation with Mr. Zhang. The Southgate project in Seaview City — you gave that to me."

I gave a faint nod.

"I did."

"Why would you help me?"

A flicker of confusion crossed his eyes.

"There were plenty of people competing for that project, and I wasn't exactly the frontrunner."

I smiled lightly, resting my chin on my hand.

"Because you remind me of someone I used to know, Mr. Gilbert."

Jackson froze. A flash of shock passed through his eyes.

He had to admit — ever since Millicent had let slip that remark about Sophia Simmons bearing some resemblance to Lucille Harding, his mind hadn't been able to settle.

Lucille...

Could it really be you?

If it's not you, why would you help me out of nowhere?

And then, watching me prop my chin on my hand and gaze at him like that —

A storm tore through him.

The face was wrong. It wasn't Lucille Harding's face.

But those little gestures, that look in my eyes — for one disorienting moment, he could have sworn she was standing right in front of him again.

I smiled and spoke first, steering the conversation somewhere entirely different.

"You and Mrs. Gilbert don't have children yet?"

"No."

Jackson's eyes locked onto mine, deep and unwavering.

"I once promised my ex-girlfriend that if I ever had children in this life, it would only be with her."

My lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. "Oh? How devoted of you, Mr. Gilbert. But tell me —"

"How did she become an ex-girlfriend?"

Jackson went quiet.

"She passed away."

"I loved her. More than I've ever loved anyone. I thought we'd have a home together soon."

"But that year, something happened to her family. They lost everything overnight. Her parents divorced. She couldn't take the shock, got into a car accident, and her life ended forever in the summer she turned twenty-four."

Liar.

I swallowed the disgust rising in my throat. The smile on my face didn't waver — flawless, impenetrable — as I watched him.

Men were such vile, slippery creatures.

He was the one who betrayed me first, and yet here he was, performing grief like a widower at a funeral. All the sympathy, all the admiration for his so-called devotion — he'd collected every last drop.

And me? I got nothing. Just the word tragic stamped on my name, and then I was forgotten.

"What a shame."

I rose from my seat.

"Excuse me. I need to use the restroom."

The moment I turned to leave, a hand closed around my wrist.

"Wait."

Jackson's throat bobbed. His gaze softened as he looked at me.

"Mrs. Stephens, you and her... you really do look alike."

That look in his eyes — so familiar, so full of tender longing.

As if he were staring right through me, seeing someone else. I knew exactly who he was seeing.

Do I look like her?

I offered a cool smile.

"There are plenty of people in this world who resemble each other. Call it fate, I suppose."

I glanced down at his hand, still wrapped around my wrist.

Jackson noticed too. He released me in a hurry, as if he'd been burned.

The gala certainly was lively tonight.

Jackson had barely finished talking to me when Millicent appeared, right on cue.

"Mrs. Stephens, I just saw you chatting with my husband. What exactly were you two doing?"

Her expression was guarded, her eyes sharp.

"I know Jackson has always been impressive — handsome, successful. Plenty of women out there have their eyes on him."

"You're Arthur Stephens' wife, Mrs. Stephens. I'd strongly suggest you don't get any ideas you shouldn't be having."

Oh, I was well aware.

When Jackson had grabbed my wrist in that moment of impulse just now —

She'd seen me.

They say women who clawed their way up by stealing someone else's husband are always the most vicious when it comes to catching a mistress.

I touched up my makeup lazily, letting out a soft laugh.

"What do you think I could possibly be doing?"

"Mrs. Gilbert, are you really that insecure about your own appeal?"

"Besides, it's not like I don't have a husband of my own."

"My husband, Arthur Stephens, is leagues above Jackson Gilbert in every way. Why on earth would I bother seducing a man who doesn't even compare?"

Millicent's expression soured, her lips pressing into a thin line.

"As long as that's the case."

"Mrs. Stephens, I have no desire to make an enemy of you. If possible, I'd like us to be friends."

"Next time, we should go shopping together."

Another round of hollow pleasantries.

She was always so good at playing the innocent little lamb.

What she didn't know was that after she'd destroyed my family and my life, I'd long since stopped falling for that act.

I watched her walk away, and a new idea began to take shape in my mind.

After that gala, Jackson started reaching out to me more and more.

At first, he used the Southgate project as an excuse, thanking me over dinner.

Then it was shopping trips. He even volunteered to be my driver.

Later, he "accidentally" spilled something on his shirt, using it as a reason to come upstairs.

The way he looked at me grew less and less innocent with each passing day.

Until one evening, after a business meeting, Jackson got drunk.

His face was flushed, his gaze unfocused, and he wrapped his arms around me from behind.

"Sophia..."

In that moment, my lips curved upward. Got him.

Men were all the same. Every last one of them.

Cheating was never a one-time thing. It was zero times or infinite.

Back when he was with me, he'd let Millicent, my so-called best friend, lure him away.

Now, of course, he'd betray Millicent just as easily for a "Sophia Simmons."

"I'm falling for you."

I met his hazy, pleading eyes and didn't refuse.

So, with only token resistance, Jackson pulled me toward a hotel room.

The moment the door clicked shut, desire overtook him.

His fingers reached for my buttons, but I caught his hand and held it still.

"I want to divorce Arthur. Can you do something for me?"

"Get me what I need."

"And I'm yours. I'll even throw in Stephens Group's confidential files as a show of good faith."

A woman alone might not have been enough to make Jackson lose his mind.

But power could.

I watched the hesitation flicker through his eyes, then harden into resolve.

"Done. Leave it to me."

The day I got exactly what I wanted, Jackson sent me a message, brimming with self-satisfaction.

Sophia, I got what you asked for. How are you planning to reward me?

I sent him a hotel address and told him to meet me in the room.

The second Jackson walked through the door, he pulled me into his arms. Kisses rained down, frantic and relentless.

I didn't push him away.

I just smiled. Cold and sharp.

"Jackson Gilbert. Seven years ago, you crawled into Millicent's bed and betrayed me. Tell me, were you planning to betray her the same way today?"