LOGINI died building a fortress for people who wanted me in a grave. At twenty-eight, I was the perfect martyr. I sacrificed my Ivy League seat at 18 so my stepsister could shine, bled my inheritance dry to keep my family afloat, and waited a decade for a ring from a man who valued me like a stock option. My reward? A glass of poison and a front-row seat to my own murder. Now, I’m eighteen again. It’s the day before I’m scheduled to surrender my future, but the perfect saint they know is dead. This time, I’m keeping the crown, the money, and the man. Not for love, but because fifty billion dollars is more than enough to buy back my revenge. There’s just one problem: Marcus. In my past life, he was a calculating glacier. A man I thought loved me and only found out who he was on my dying bed, except in this life, everything I know about him seems different.
View MoreChapter 47Julian’s POV "We will start from the most basic thing, the definition of a company. A company is not a building, Ashley, nor is it the piece of paper registered with the state," I said, resting my broad hands flat against the dark, polished mahogany of my executive desk.She sat directly opposite me, her posture immaculate, her dark, attentive eyes tracking my every movement with a sharp, terrifying focus. Spread out on the marble table between us were high-level organizational charts, private financial ledgers, and equity distribution sheets for Syer Enterprises. The morning sun poured through the floor-to-ceiling glass of my top-floor office, casting a sharp light across the complex web of corporate power I was laying out for her."It is a living, breathing network of leverage," I continued, my voice low and authoritative as I pointed to the top node of the main chart. "Basic terms: Equity is control, not just money. Proxies are weapons you lend to allies or strip from e
Chapter 46Ashley’s POV I woke up to a faint, delicious aroma drifting through the crack of the guest room door, cutting straight through the heavy, suffocating fog of sleep.For a fleeting second, confusion washed over me. I wasn't in that cold, sterile bedroom where I used to wake up with a knot of dread tightening in my stomach. I was in Syer’s house.I pushed the duvet aside, sitting up slowly. The emotionally exhausting events of the previous night came rushing back in vivid detail, the bitter confrontation at the dinner table, the cold metallic key in my trousers, the thick leather folder of legal deeds now resting safely on my nightstand, and the raw, tear-stained confession I had poured out on the living room sofa.I swung my legs over the side of the bed, slipped into a warm silk robe, and stepped out into the hallway.The soft sound of a spatula scraping against a pan led me toward the open-concept kitchen. Standing behind the marble island was Julian.My breath hitched in
Chapter 45Julian’s POV The drive back from the Vance estate was wrapped in a suffocating, heavy silence, but for the first time since I had dragged Ashley out of her shell, the quiet between us didn't feel like a battleground.It felt like the stillness right after a storm has torn through a valley, leaving the air clear, cold, and sharp.Ashley sat rigid, staring out at the blurred streetlights bleeding across the side window. She hadn't let go of her leather handbag for a single second. It sat heavy on her lap, her long, delicate fingers tightly entwined around the strap as if it were the only anchor keeping her from floating away into the dark.The ambient city lights filtered through the floor-to-ceiling glass walls, casting long, geometric shadows across the cold marble floor.Ashley stepped out first. She didn't take off her coat. She didn't walk toward the guest room. She simply glided to the center of the vast living room, stopping right in front of the glass, looking out ov
Chapter 44Ashley’s POV "Ashley, you can’t possibly refuse to give your sister a life."My father’s voice boomed through the high ceilinged dining room, reverberating off the cold marble walls and shattering whatever fragile illusion of domestic peace remained. The artificial warmth he had performed so carefully just moments ago completely evaporated from his tone, replaced by the harsh, demanding, and authoritative glare he usually reserved for failing corporate executives who dared to cross him in a boardroom.He sat at the head of the table, his shoulders squared, his chin raised in an imposing display of absolute dominance. He genuinely expected me to buckle under the weight of his voice. He expected the quiet, obedient daughter who had spent years shrinking into the shadows to bow her head, swallow her pride, and hand over her birthright simply because he demanded it."I can, father, and I have decided to," I replied smoothly.My voice didn't shake. It dropped into a quiet, icy






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