Enough!

The leather of the town car’s backseat felt like cold skin. Outside the windows, the pulse of Miami faded, replaced by the oppressive rows of royal palms that lined the entrance to the Thorne Estate. I sat in silence. I was "home," but as the massive iron gates swung shut behind us, the sound of the latch clicking into place felt like a cell door locking.

Edward, my father’s driver, didn't look at me. He had seen me at my highest and my lowest, and today, I was simply a package being returned to its sender.

"Your father is at the pool," Edward said as we pulled up to the mansion.

"And... Miss Isabelle is with him," he warned me.

My jaw tightened. Isabelle. My blood began to simmer, a heat that had nothing to do with the humidity and everything to do with the woman who had destroyed my life for sport.

I walked toward the pool, my boots thudding heavily against the white limestone floors. I heard her laugh before I saw her. It was a sound that used to represent late nights and shared secrets.

Isabelle hadn't just been my best friend; she had been my shadow. We grew up in the same elite circles and whispered about our futures over stolen bottles of Cristal. But Isabelle’s family had wealth that was fading, while the Thorne empire was only growing. She hadn't wanted to be my friend; she had wanted my life.

My father, Harrison Thorne, stood behind her, his hand resting possessively on her shoulder. The sight made my stomach turn.

"Eloise," my father said.

"You’re late."

Isabelle leaned back, her blonde hair spilling over her shoulders. She looked at me with a smirk that was part pity, part triumph.

"Oh, let her be, Harrison. It takes time to transition from... whatever it is she was doing. Honestly, Eloise, I’m impressed. I thought you’d have crawled back within forty-eight hours of your first cold shower."

I turned my gaze to her.

"I didn't crawl back for the showers, Isabelle. And I certainly didn't crawl back to see you playing house with my father."

Isabelle stood up, her silk slip dress shimmering. She walked toward me with the grace of someone who knew she had won.

"You should be thanking me. I gave you an adventure. I gave Harrison the excuse he needed to finally rein you in. And in the process, I showed him who was truly loyal to the Thorne name."

The casualness of her betrayal snapped the last thread of my restraint. It wasn't just the video; it was the realization that while I was starving in a shoebox apartment, she had manipulated my father to get into his bed.

"You did it to get to him," I whispered.

"You suggested he cut me off. You told him I needed to be 'humbled' so that you could clear the path to his checkbook."

"I took what was being wasted on a spoiled brat," Isabelle sneered, poking a manicured finger into my shoulder.

"You don't deserve this life, Eloise. You never—"

I didn't think. I reacted.

My hand shot out, grabbing her wrist and twisting it. Before she could retreat, I shoved her. It wasn't a light push; it was a strike fueled by the betrayal of my former friend. Isabelle stumbled back, and she crashed into a side table. A crystal vase shattered, sending water and lilies over her four-thousand-dollar dress.

"Eloise!" my father roared.

Isabelle scrambled up, her face twisted with hate. She lunged at me, claws out. I dodged, catching her by the arm and swinging her toward a pillar. She collided with it face-first.

"Enough!"

My father’s voice was like a gunshot. He stepped between us, his massive hand gripping my upper arm with bruising force.

"Look at you," Harrison hissed, looking at me with a mixture of disgust and fascination.

"You’ve become a savage."

"I've become someone who knows a bitch when I see one," I spat.

My father pushed me away and turned to Isabelle.

"Go upstairs, Isabelle. Change. We’ll speak later."

"Harrison, she attacked me! You’re just going to let her stay here after—"

"Go," he commanded.

Once the doors clicked shut behind her, my father adjusted his cufflinks, his eyes tracking the rise and fall of my chest.

"You and Isabelle cannot be in the same house if you’re going to behave like street thugs," he said flatly.

"What did you expect, Dad, that we were just going to go back to being friends?"

"I wasn’t going to tell you right now, but I have a plan for you. You want to prove you haven't lost your mind to the gutter? You're going to work. Not for me."

"You're going to work for Caspian Vance."

I blinked. The name was legendary in the Miami social circuit.

"Vance? The venture capitalist?"

"He’s a majority shareholder in several of my ventures. He’s looking for a high-level personal assistant, someone who knows how the elite think but isn't afraid of working hard. I told him you were... uniquely qualified."

Caspian Vance was one of the most eligible bachelors in the country. He was known for his devastating charm, his ruthless business sense, and his reputation for being a "fixer."

"Caspian is brilliant, he's wealthy, and he's exactly the kind of man a Thorne woman should be seen with. You will report to his penthouse office tomorrow at 9:00 AM. You will be charming. You will be efficient.”

I didn’t like that my father had made job arrangements on my behalf, but it was a way to get out from under my father’s watch, and since he does a lot of business with my dad, I can still proceed to investigate the Everglades reserves as well as try to look for the footage. Besides, if I had to stay one more day in this house with that bitch, I would lose it!

Tomorrow, I will put on the mask. I would be the perfect assistant.