LOGINDanielle POV
I left the diary hidden in my room and went back downstairs, hungry for whatever secrets that book was still holding back. The moment I reached the hall, I saw him. Jacob. For one unguarded second, my body forgot everything that happened before I left Then it came back, cold and sharp: Keep your friends close. Keep your enemies closer So I walked toward him myself — slow, deliberate, every step calculated to catch the hunger already in his eyes. His gaze dropped and dragged over me, and I watched it land before I even reached him. I bit my lip, just enough. He met me halfway and pulled me into a dance without asking. He didn't need to anymore. His eyes held mine, and the low sound rolling out of his chest wasn't a growl born of anger. I knew that sound. It was the one Jacob made when he wanted something and expected to get it. I let my hand rest at the back of his neck — until I caught Jackson watching from across the room. I pulled back just enough to be safe. "I can see you missed me already, you naughty wolf," Jacob murmured, unbothered by the danger of being seen. His hand settled at my waist, possessive, like the body I wore had always belonged to him. We drew stares as the music swelled, slow and indecently romantic. "Jackson is watching," I said quietly. His grip only gentled — somehow worse than if it had tightened. This was the same Alpha whose claws had torn into my stomach the night I died. Now he held me like I was something precious. The whiplash of it made my skin crawl. Rage climbed my spine, but I swallowed it. Slow. Deadly. Let him hang himself first. "What about that helpless, fat Luna of yours?" I asked, keeping my voice light. "Oh, she crossed a line." His mouth curved. "So I made sure she never crossed it again." The music kept playing. My feet kept moving. Something inside me went very still. He's talking about killing me. And he doesn't even know it. "Why marry her, then?" I pushed. "You never even liked her." The warmth drained from his face. What replaced it wasn't anger — it was colder. "Just because I let you into my bed doesn't give you the right to question my family business. Do your part of the deal. I'll do mine — I own you. Are we clear?" I should have backed down. The old me would have. She was dead now, and I had nothing left to protect. "And if I decide not to?" His smile came back, slower, more dangerous. "You really don't want to find out what happens when an Alpha's order gets broken." The air between us thickened, his arms still moving me through steps that suddenly felt like a leash. Lucy's voice cut through just in time. "Hey, Danielle — I'm so glad you're here." That same smile that had fooled me for seven years. Not again. I smiled back, sweet and empty, and let her walk away thinking she'd won something. Jacob leaned in as the song wound down, his mouth close enough that his cologne became the only thing I could smell. "Tomorrow. Six o'clock. Our usual place. Don't be late." Then he was gone, leaving me to swallow down fear I refused to let show. 🩶🩶🩶🩶 I woke up before dawn and slid out from beside Jackson without a sound. In the sitting room, I sat in the dark, trying to scrub the ballroom out of my head. Then I remembered the diary. My hands shook as I keyed in the password. Whatever was locked inside had already gotten one girl nearly killed for it. The lock clicked open. The first pages painted a woman I hadn't expected — fierce, sweet, careful in a way that read like armor. Danielle wore composure like a second skin, but underneath it was someone constantly bracing for the next blow. When David Carmen — Jackson's father — died, he'd left the entire Carmen fortune to her, not his wife, not his son nor any of Jackson's mistresses. The next pages were full of the fallout: sabotage, smear campaigns, and finally, in her own careful handwriting, the murder of her parents. Still, she hadn't folded. Neither will I. I kept turning pages, until one stopped me cold. Danielle had written, in vivid detail, about a night with the most beautiful man she'd ever touched. It wasn't Jackson. It wasn't Bruce. It was Jacob. My stomach turned to ice. Jacob had been sleeping with Danielle — the entire time he wore Rachel's ring on his other hand. Not just Lucy. Tears blurred the ink before I could stop them. I flipped again, and one line stopped my breath entirely: "I know what Jackson did, what Felicia did. What all of them did. If anything happens to me, I already know what to do." The words sat there like a warning meant exactly for this moment. "Felicia", I whispered as my thoughts went towards the woman who said they had been waiting for me. She had the same face as the picture of the lady Danielle's diary. I turned the page, desperate for more. It was torn out. Not lost. Removed — a clean, deliberate rip, like someone hadn't wanted whatever came next to survive. My mind went straight to the "accident" that had put Danielle in a coma for two years. No one had ever said it like they believed it was one. What if it wasn't? For the first time since I woke up in this body, the fire in my chest wasn't only about my own revenge anymore. Danielle had been building a war of her own — and someone had cut her off before she could finish it. I closed the diary and held it against my chest. Vengeance for Rachel would have to wait First, I needed to find Rachel's father, my ex father — and start pulling the thread that led back to whoever had really put Danielle in that coma.Danielle's POV "So you're telling me that you're nothing but a stupid spy working for your own mother." Anger sliced through my voice, each word deliberate, clipped, barely restrained. Vivienne bowed her head, shame radiating off her in waves I didn't have the patience to care about anymore. My hands were still trembling from everything that had happened tonight — the receipt, the diary, the assassin, and now this. "I'm so sorry, Danielle." Her voice cracked, and I hated that some part of me almost believed it was remorse. "She's threatening me now. I need your help." I wanted to lunge at her in that moment, wanted to rip out her throat with my bare hands and worry about the consequences later. My fingers curled into fists at my sides, nails biting into my palms hard enough to leave crescent marks. Every ounce of trust I'd built with her over the last several months curdled into something ugly and hot in my chest. "You traitor." Before I could finish tearing into her, Mary bur
Danielle's POV "So you're telling me that you're nothing but a stupid spy working for your own mother." Anger sliced through my voice, each word deliberate, clipped, barely restrained. Vivienne bowed her head, shame radiating off her in waves I didn't have the patience to care about anymore. My hands were still trembling from everything that had happened tonight — the receipt, the diary, the assassin, and now this. "I'm so sorry, Danielle." Her voice cracked, and I hated that some part of me almost believed it was remorse. "She's threatening me now. I need your help." I wanted to lunge at her in that moment, wanted to rip out her throat with my bare hands and worry about the consequences later. My fingers curled into fists at my sides, nails biting into my palms hard enough to leave crescent marks. Every ounce of trust I'd built with her over the last several months curdled into something ugly and hot in my chest. "You traitor." Before I could finish tearing into her, Mary bur
Danielle's POV "So you're telling me that you're nothing but a stupid spy working for your own mother." Anger sliced through my voice, each word deliberate, clipped, barely restrained. Vivienne bowed her head, shame radiating off her in waves I didn't have the patience to care about anymore. My hands were still trembling from everything that had happened tonight — the receipt, the diary, the assassin, and now this. "I'm so sorry, Danielle." Her voice cracked, and I hated that some part of me almost believed it was remorse. "She's threatening me now. I need your help." I wanted to lunge at her in that moment, wanted to rip out her throat with my bare hands and worry about the consequences later. My fingers curled into fists at my sides, nails biting into my palms hard enough to leave crescent marks. Every ounce of trust I'd built with her over the last several months curdled into something ugly and hot in my chest. "You traitor." Before I could finish tearing into her, Mary bur
Elias's POV "Danielle, where are you?" I kept yelling into the chaos, my voice swallowed whole by the noise of the crowd. She'd been standing right there moments ago, right in the middle of the stage, microphone still smoking in everyone's memory. Now there was nothing but bodies and flashing light where she should have been. This couldn't be happening. Not tonight. Not after everything I'd rigged, everything I'd promised her would go exactly to plan. I keyed my earpiece, static crackling in my ear before Bruce's voice cut through, breathless and panicked. "She's not backstage. I checked every exit. Elias, if she's out there alone with Jacob still—" "She's not with Jacob." I cut him off, my voice harder than I meant it to sound. "Keep the exits sealed. No one leaves until I find her." I didn't wait for a response. I couldn't afford to. Anger surged through me, hot and immediate, as I shoved past cameramen and journalists who clogged every inch of the aisle, their lenses swi
Danielle's POV "Are you sure you want to do this, Danielle?" Elias asked, after I let out a heavy sigh I hadn't meant to give away. "It's okay, Elias." My voice came out steadier than I felt as I reached up and touched his face, my fingers lingering a moment too long against his jaw. "It's all going to be fine." A tear slipped free before I could stop it, and I wiped it away quickly, though it wasn't the kind that came from fear or performance. It wasn't forced. It was something quieter than that — nostalgia, maybe, or the strange ache of being cared for by someone who wanted nothing from me in return. Someone had finally cared about me. About Rachel. Not the way a father once had, forcing me into his seat as mayor because it suited his legacy more than it ever suited me. Not the way a man once had, taking everything I sacrificed; my health, my body, the child I bore him and repaying it with his bare hands wrapped around my throat until there was nothing left of me to give. No
Lucy's POV I paced across the room, my mind replaying it over and over, Jacob's hand around my throat, the way he'd looked at me as though I were nothing more than a nuisance to be silenced. He held me. Me. Lucy Lisva. By the neck. The audacity of it made my claws itch beneath my skin, threatening to split through before I could stop them. Fury climbed up my spine in waves, hot and disorienting, until I had to press my palm flat against the wall just to steady myself. "What is going on," I whispered, my voice barely above breath, my mind already scrambling for a way out of the mess he'd shoved me into. There had to be a way to turn this. There was always a way. My phone rang, cutting through the spiral before it could pull me under completely. Leslie. "Hello. Not now, Leslie." My voice cracked with more panic than I meant to show. "Wait." Worry sharpened every syllable on his end of the line. "He's found out." I wasn't ready for more bad news. I didn't think I could t







