Her Halo Was My Money

"Lillian, you're amazing! You even care about broke students like us—buying us houses and cars? You're literally one in a million!"

"Just landing a job with you feels like winning the lottery!"

"Hurry, Lillian! The TV crew's still waiting for your interview!"

...

My head was a mess—like someone had thrown a sheet over my brain.

Then it started to clear. And there she was: Lillian Pegg, front and center, soaking up the spotlight, holding court with reporters like she actually built the empire she stole.

I reached up, fingers brushing my forehead. The wound Liam gave me? Gone. And my stomach—usually a war zone—felt warm, steady.

No way. I was alive. I was back.

I stepped forward, half in a daze, trying to get to Lillian.

Then bam—one of her groupies stumbled and shoved me aside. "Who even are you? Move!"

That shout flipped every head.

Lillian spotted me too. Her smile twitched, just for a second, before she snapped on that fake sweetness.

"Clara, what are you doing here? Go wait in my office, okay? I'll find you after the interview."

That soft tone? Instant charm bomb. A few more employees practically melted.

Last time around, Arthur and I were in the same car when it crashed. He died shielding me.

I made it out, barely—broken and spiraling.

I backed off from the company. Gave up.

Then Lillian showed up, all sweet and grateful, saying she just wanted to pay me back for sponsoring her.

We weren't that far apart in age, and over time, she felt like the little sister I never had. She kept showing up, acting all capable and loyal, so I handed her the reins at Vectorial Corp—just for a while.

Yeah. Huge mistake.

Turns out, all that kindness was an act. She didn't want to help me. She wanted to be me—take my company, my family, my life.

I didn't say a word. Just turned and walked into the office.

Dropped into my old chair, lifted my hand, and wiped her access clean.

She wanted fame? Cool. She was about to be front-page material.