Chapter 3

The message went out that night. Ryan registered an anonymous account, sent the documents to my father's old friend, and had him relay everything to my father on the other end.

The next morning, I went to Garrett's office to look at the ledgers. He wasn't there. But Selena was.

Her hand was still wrapped in gauze. She kept her eyes low, projecting the image of someone utterly fragile, until she saw me, and then the tears started.

"Anna, please don't blame me for what happened yesterday. I was devastated. I lost control."

"My husband is gone. Died in that fight. I've been a wreck, and all I want now is somewhere quiet to get through the rest of my life. If Marcus is making me his mistress because of some obligation to continue the bloodline, honestly, I'd rather not. That kind of talk gets out, and it makes your position as Donna impossible too."

I watched her twist and cringe through the whole speech while knowing exactly who she really was, the woman who'd had me destroyed in my last life. What a nauseating performance.

"Don't worry. I don't care what people say, and I don't blame you."

She looked up at me, eyes still glistening. "You really don't?"

"Blame you for what? You're doing this for the family."

She lowered her head. The corner of her mouth twitched upward. As she stood to leave, she steadied herself casually on the edge of the table, and her gaze swept across the asset documents I'd left open on the desk, pausing just half a beat.

"What are you working on?"

"Just looking through some things."

"That's what accountants are for. No need to do it yourself."

She left. Less than an hour later, Marcus walked in, face already set hard.

"Anna. Selena mentioned you're going through the accounts."

"I'm just reviewing some old documents. What's the problem?"

"When you start looking at things like that, people in the family get nervous."

"Why would they be nervous?"

"Anna." He kept his voice low and pointed. "You suddenly want to get involved in family business. What exactly are you after?"

I blinked, the picture of innocence. "Marcus, I'm just trying to get a handle on my own assets. There’s no need to label me like that, is there?"

He didn't answer. He just watched me for a long moment. Then his hand shot out and closed around my throat, not hard enough to cut off air, but not gentle either.

"You never cared about this stuff before."

"But I'm going to be the Donna. Getting it straight seems like the responsible thing to do, for the family."

He let go. His thumb brushed over the red mark he'd left on my neck, as though he'd just noticed how much force he'd used. He didn't apologize.

"None of this matters. Stay home, rest, and don’t stir up any trouble for me."

That afternoon, Vivian came. Where Selena played fragile and tearful, Vivian cut straight to it.

"Anna, don't try to get word out behind our backs."

My fingers went still.

Vivian sat down across from me and pulled out her phone, scrolling to a page, and there it was: the email I'd sent to my father's contact. I'd taken every precaution, used an anonymous account with an address that had no connection to me whatsoever. It hadn't mattered.

"Don't think we don't know what you're doing." She slid the phone across the coffee table toward me. "We're not trying to cut you off from the outside world. But the family is in crisis, and outside interference only puts everyone at risk."

That was exactly how it had gone last time. They'd severed every thread connecting me to the world, and by the time I was thrown out of the estate, my father hadn't heard a word from me in months.

"Vivian, you're efficient. I'll give you that."

"I'm looking out for you." She was already at the door. She glanced back once. "Anna, stay out of family business."

Then she was gone.

I stared at the email on the table, and a chill moved through me.

Ryan came out from the adjoining room, jaw tight. "That was my fault. I failed you."

"It's not your fault." I closed my eyes.

Last time I'd thought they only started moving against me after the funeral. But they'd been ready long before that. From the moment those alliance papers landed on the table, they’d been plotting against me.