Chapter 1 – My Christmas Engagement Gift Was Betrayal

Zinnia (POV).

"Dorian, darling, close your eyes and hold out your hands, because your favorite fiancée just braved forty-five minutes of gridlock holiday traffic to bring you a custom-engraved platinum chronograph and a double-layered Belgian chocolate truffle cake!" I announce brightly, balancing a towering stack of gold-foiled Christmas gift boxes in my left arm while turning the spare brass key in the lock of Dorian Ashcroft’s penthouse door.

The heavy mahogany door swings open smoothly into a dimly lit foyer scented heavily with vanilla candles,peppermint room spray, and an unmistakably weird, musky perfume that smells suspiciously like cheap department store honeysuckle.

"Hello? Dorian? Did you fall asleep watching holiday baking specials again, or are you hiding in the kitchen eating my peppermint bark before dinner?" I call out cheerfully, kicking off my snow-dusted leather boots onto the marble tile and strolling down the central hallway toward the master bedroom with my arms full of shiny red ribbons.

From behind the half-open oak bedroom door comes a rhythmic, unmistakable creaking of expensive mattress springs, accompanied by a muffled, high-pitched giggle that makes my eyebrows shoot halfway up my forehead.

"Oh, fantastic! Either Dorian hired a professional elf troupe to assemble my Christmas present early, or someone is violating my Egyptian cotton bedsheets without a permit!" I declare loudly, nudging the bedroom door wide open with my hip and stepping straight inside.

For three solid seconds, nobody moves a muscle.

Dorian Ashcroft freezes mid-motion on top of my four-poster canopy bed, his face draining of every drop of blood until he looks like a startled Victorian ghost wrapped in tangled silk sheets. Beneath him, my dear,sweet, chronically fragile stepsister Belladonna Vexley lets out a theatrical squeak, yanking a satin pillow up to her chin—and in doing so, flashes my custom-cut two-carat canary diamond engagement ring glittering shamelessly on her left ring finger.

"Ha! Very funny, guys! Ten out of ten for commitment to the bit!" I burst out laughing, shifting the stack of Christmas presents onto one hip while gesturing at the bed with my free hand. "Seriously, though, which reality television network put you two up to this? Is there a hidden camera inside the decorative wreath over the dresser, because if you think I’m crying on national television over a fake affair prank, you clearly forgot who funded this entire penthouse!"

"Zinnia!" Dorian croaks, scrambling backward off the mattress so fast he tangles his ankles in the duvet and crashes sideways onto the plush wool rug with a loud, pathetic thud. "You—you were supposed to be at the winter charity auction across town until eleven o'clock!"

"The auction ended early because the keynote speaker got food poisoning from the shrimp cocktail, so I decided to surprise my loving fiancé with an early engagement anniversary gift!" I reply briskly, walking over to the velvet armchair and setting the gift boxes down before turning back with a bright, expectant smile. "Come on, Belladonna, drop the traumatized bunny act and hand back my ring before your circulation cuts off. We all know my knuckles are half a size larger than yours."

Belladonna clutches the satin pillow tighter against her chest, her lower lip trembling on cue as enormous,rehearsed tears well up in her big hazel eyes. "Zinnia, stop laughing! This isn't a prank! Dorian and I—we’re in love! We’ve been trying to find the right moment to tell you without breaking your fragile heart!"

I blink once, twice, my smile freezing in place like a statue caught in a sudden blizzard. "Wait a second. Hold everything. Let’s rewind that sentence. Did you just say in love, or did you accidentally inhale too much scented candle wax?"

"She’s telling the truth, Zinnia," Dorian mumbles from the floor, hastily yanking on a pair of silk pajama pants while refusing to meet my eyes. "You’re always buried in corporate spreadsheets, Vexley trust audits, and charitable logistics. You treat our relationship like a business merger. Belladonna actually makes me feel needed."

"Needed? Oh, sweetheart, the only thing Belladonna needs is a cosmetic surgeon to fix her chronic allergy to telling the truth!" I snap, stepping forward and spotting Dorian’s unlocked smartphone buzzing repeatedly on the marble nightstand beside an open bottle of champagne.

Before Dorian can lunge across the rug to snatch it away, I scoop up the phone with one swift grab, holding it high above his head while tapping rapidly through the open messaging thread illuminated on the screen.

"Let’s see what true love looks like in text form, shall we?" I read aloud in a crisp, broadcasting voice as Dorian scrambles wildly to his feet. "October fourteenth, Belladonna: ‘Can’t wait until Zinnia signs the Vexley Family Trust restructuring papers next month so we can finally stop pretending I’m her supportive little sister.’ Oh,look, there’s more! November second, Dorian: ‘Once her inheritance clears into the joint holding account, I’ll dump her the day after Christmas and put the real ring on your finger, baby.’"

"Give me that phone!" Dorian roars, lunging toward me with his fingers outstretched.

I sidestep effortlessly, letting him crash hip-first into the corner of the mahogany dresser with a loud, hollow crack, and keep scrolling rapidly down the glowing screen. "December third, Belladonna: ‘Make sure you keep charming her uncle Octavian at the military gala so nobody questions why Zinnia’s liquid assets are transferring offshore before New Year’s Eve.’ Months! You two have been sleeping together and plotting to rob me blind for six straight months while eating brunch on my credit card!"

"You left us no choice, Zinnia!" Belladonna shrieks, dropping the sweet, helpless victim routine in a split second as her face twists into a venomous snarl. "Father left seventy percent of the Vexley estate to you just because your mother had the good fortune to die first! Do you have any idea how humiliating it is begging you for an allowance while you hoard millions in offshore accounts?!"

"I gave you a three-million-dollar condo, a luxury sports car, and an unlimited clothing stipend, you ungrateful parasite!" I shout back, tossing Dorian’s phone cleanly onto the bed and yanking the emerald-cut engagement band—the temporary placeholder I wore while my canary diamond was supposedly getting cleaned at the jeweler’s—straight off my finger.

I hurl the platinum band onto the marble vanity, where it bounces twice and rolls straight into a potted orchid."Consider our engagement officially terminated, Dorian! You can keep the cheating stepsister, you can keep the stolen canary diamond, and you can pack your cheap silk pajamas out of my building before security drags you out by your ankles!"

"And as for you, Belladonna," I continue, pointing an accusing finger squarely at her face as I back briskly toward the bedroom doorway, "you are no longer my sister, no longer a beneficiary of my private trust, and no longer welcome within five hundred feet of any Vexley property! Enjoy explaining to my lawyers why your fingerprints are all over forged asset transfer waivers!"

Dorian slowly straightens up beside the mahogany dresser, rubbing his bruised hip as all traces of panic vanish from his face, replaced by a cold, calculating expression that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand straight up. He steps smoothly between me and the hallway exit, his hand sliding quietly behind his back toward the heavy brass fireplace poker resting beside the hearth.

"You really should have stayed at that charity auction tonight, Zinnia," Dorian says softly, his voice dropping an octave into a chilling, deadpan murmur as Belladonna slowly slips out of bed behind him. "Because you never should have discovered our secret."