REBORN WITH A SYSTEM: Why does my target wants me.
Flora Whitmore was the deadliest assassin alive. She died on a mountain bridge on her way to meet the family she had just found, killed by the adopted daughter who wasn't ready to be replaced.
She wakes in the body of Eliza Sinclair, a girl nobody in her own house takes seriously, with a raw red line around her neck and a golden rabbit in her head. His name is Aurex, the Supreme Treasure System, and he knows what everything is really worth.
Antique markets, jade stalls, estate sales, auction rooms. Aurex appraises whatever Flora sees, shows her what's hidden inside it, and sets quests to find rare pieces, paid in points and upgrades. Refuse one and there's a penalty. Each one unlocks another piece of the dead girl's memories. Flora never expected to be good at old junk. She turns out to be terrifying at it.
Her first hunt is personal: the necklace someone tore off her neck.
Treasure also draws the wrong kind of attention. At an auction she meets Xavier Blackwood, the cold billionaire who has hunted the assassin Viper for years and has no idea he's looking at her. He needs a pretend girlfriend. She needs access. One contract, no feelings, no questions.
Meanwhile, a woman wearing Flora's face sits at the Whitmore table. Xavier's childhood sweetheart cries on cue and guards a lie. Four brothers are waiting for a phone call that won't come. Three mafia brothers who never stopped searching for their lost sister are about to meet her without knowing it.
Every clause has a loophole, and Xavier, who wrote the rules, is the first to start breaking them.
Sharp-tongued, slow-burning and full of well-earned slaps.
Leer
Chapter: Chapter Six: Studio 4Harlow Lane smelled of coffee, hot cables and nerves. Studio 4 sat at the end of it behind a roller door the color of old teeth, and a girl with a clipboard and a headset stood guard in front of it like a very small, very serious doorman.“Name?”“Eliza Sinclair. Nine o’clock.”The girl’s eyes ran down the list, stopped, and came up with something close to interest. “You’re the clip.”“I’m the clip.”“Jules. I sent your letter.” She was perhaps twenty-five, with a ponytail so tight it seemed to be pulling her eyebrows up, and she studied Eliza the way people study a horse they have bet on. “Mr. Voss is in a mood. He is always in a mood, but this is a loud one. Don’t say sorry. He hears it as a confession.”“Noted.”“And don’t be early. You’re early, so that’s already ruined.”“I’ll make up for it.”Inside, the studio was a long, dim cave of black walls and hanging lamps, with a pale mat spread across the floor and a table at the far end where three people sat in a row like a tribunal
Última actualización: 2026-10-29
Chapter: chapter five:The Old QuarterThe tin sat on the third shelf of Eliza’s wardrobe, between a winter scarf and a pair of stunt gloves with the fingertips cut off. BISCUITS, said the lid. Inside were three hundred and twelve in crumpled notes and a label in careful handwriting: STUNT FUND. DO NOT TOUCH. THIS MEANS YOU, VICTOR.“She was saving for a helmet,” Rex said from the pillow. “And knee pads. And, I think, a very small explosion.”“And I’m about to spend it on old things.”“On treasure,” Rex corrected, and sat up straighter, which on a rabbit that size looked like a man clearing his throat. “Quest alert. Find one item whose true value is at least ten times its price. Reward: one hundred points and Appraisal level two. Refuse and you lose fifty points, and I will sulk.”“I don’t have any points to lose.”“I’ll sulk anyway.”The Old Quarter market opened at dawn on Wednesdays, and by nine the lanes were thick with brass, brocade and people lying about both. Eliza went in with a cap pulled low, a canvas bag over
Última actualización: 2026-10-27
Chapter: Chapter Four: A Very Decorative Lock The envelope had waited on the desk all day, patient as a bill. Eliza opened it at midnight, sitting cross-legged on the bed under a ceiling of kicks and explosions, with the lamp turned to the wall so nothing showed under the door. Inside was a single sheet of studio letterhead. Miss Sinclair, you are invited to read for the role of Mira in IRON ORCHID. Thursday, 9:00 a.m., Studio 4, Harlow Lane. Please bring only yourself. Underneath, in blue pen, someone had added a line. Mr. Voss asked for you by name after the clip. Don’t be late. J. “Which clip?” Eliza said. “The vault is generous tonight,” said Rex, curled on her pillow like a loaf of bread. “Three minutes, shot in a parking garage on a borrowed camera. Night Courier, Part One. Forty-one thousand views. Your girl took a flying kick off a car roof and landed it on a fire extinguisher.” “And the fire extinguisher?” “Did not survive.” Eliza read the line again. By name. Not a Sinclair, not whoever happened to be free. At
Última actualización: 2026-10-26
Chapter: Chapter Three: Dinner at the Sinclairs’ The Sinclairs ate at seven sharp, and Eliza had been given the chair nearest the kitchen door. She noticed it the way she noticed exits. Adrian Sinclair sat at the head of the table with his back to a solid wall and a clear view of the room, which was the best seat in the house and entirely wasted on him. Elena sat at his right in fresh pearls. Across from her, a young man with a rumpled collar and the hopeful face of a golden retriever was already reaching for the bread. The girl from the landing had changed into a pale blue dress with a silk scarf knotted high at the throat. “Seating chart, since you’re short on memories,” Rex said from the salt cellar, where he had settled like a cat on a warm engine. “Father, Adrian. Mother, Elena. Brother, Victor. The scarf is Lexi, the adopted daughter. Don’t ask me for feelings. I only do furniture.” Eliza sat. She was the one who got the draft. Somewhere between the soup and the first real silence, she decided she would have to start answ
Última actualización: 2026-10-26
Chapter: Chapter Two: The Wrong Ceiling The ceiling was wrong. It was white and very high, with a chandelier hanging from the middle of it like an expensive icicle, and Flora lay under it for a full ten seconds before she worked out the problem. She was not underwater. She was not cold. Nothing in the air smelled of river. She was on her back on a marble floor, and something hard was pressing into her spine. The something was the edge of a stair. She had been trained to wake slowly and take stock before moving, so she took stock. Tailbone, bruised. Left wrist, sprained but not broken. A dull ache over the right ear that would be a lump by evening. Her left arm, which had stopped answering in the river, bent when she asked it to. Someone was screaming. It was a thin, high scream, the kind a person produces out of habit rather than panic. It came from a woman in a gray uniform at the end of the hall, holding a feather duster like a flag. “Miss Eliza! Madam, come quickly, Miss Eliza has fallen!” Flora looked behind her
Última actualización: 2026-10-26
Chapter: Chapter One: The Road to the Whitmores Eric Bennett did not believe in goodbyes. He believed in lectures, which he considered the same thing with better posture. “Rule one,” he said, leaning on the porch rail with a mug of tea going cold in his hand. “If they’re rude to you, you may break one thing. One. Not a set.” “Define set.” “Anything that comes in a pair. Vases, chairs, candlesticks. Don’t look at me like that. I’ve seen your idea of restraint.” Flora dropped her bag onto the back seat of the black coupe and didn’t argue, mostly because he was right. At the bottom of the steps the four of them had arranged themselves around the car like a delegation, each pretending he hadn’t been up since dawn. Liam Thorne stood at the driver’s door with his arms crossed, silent as a wall, which was how Liam said most things. Don Levi sat on the hood in a coat that cost more than the car, scrolling through his phone with great concentration and reading none of it. Asher Costa had brought sunglasses, a thermos and a smile that
Última actualización: 2026-10-26
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