The air in Alexander’s penthouse crackled. The victory I savored moments ago turned to ash in my mouth. His question hung between us, heavy and sharp as a guillotine. “How did you know about the fire, Vivian?” My blood ran cold. The fire that had supposedly destroyed my original design portfolio. The fire Julian and Amelia had set years ago, a prelude to their grand theft. A secret only three people should have known. Two of them were my enemies. And the third was dead—the old me. This was the flaw in my perfect rebirth. I had the knowledge of the future, but he had an inexplicable grasp of my past. My face remained a mask of ice. I would not show fear. Not to him. Not to anyone. “I could ask you the same question, Alexander,” I said, my voice dangerously soft. “How does the great Alexander King, a billionaire tycoon who deals in empires, know about a minor studio fire from years ago?” His dark eyes searched mine, not for an answer, but for a crack in my composure. He found none. A slow, predatory smile touched his lips. It didn't reach his eyes. “I make it my business to know everything about what is mine.” His obsession was a suffocating blanket. In my last life, it would have terrified me. In this one, it was a weapon I was learning to wield. “I am not yours,” I stated, each word a chip of ice. “Are you not?” he countered, stepping closer. The scent of ozone and raw power radiated from him. “You live in my house. You use my resources. Your enemies are becoming my enemies. By every definition that matters, Vivian, you are mine.” Before I could deliver a scathing retort, my phone buzzed violently on the marble countertop. I glanced at the screen. Julian’s name flashed, a beacon of his desperation. Perfect timing. The first phase of my revenge was complete. Now it was time to watch the rats squirm in their trap. I answered, putting the call on speaker. Alexander watched, his expression unreadable but his posture radiating pure alpha possessiveness. “Vivian! Thank God!” Julian’s voice was a ragged, panicked mess. The arrogant confidence from the press conference was gone, replaced by the pathetic whining of a cornered animal. “Vivian, you have to help me! The police… the authorities… they’ve frozen everything! The company accounts, the collection… my life is over!” I allowed a beat of cold silence to stretch, letting him stew in his terror. “Is it?” I asked coolly. “That sounds like a personal problem. It sounds a lot like karma.” “No, please! It’s a misunderstanding!” he pleaded, his voice cracking. “Your designs… I never meant… Amelia and I, we were just trying to honor your memory! We thought you’d be happy!” The lie was so pathetic, so transparent, I almost laughed. ‘Honor my memory’? They had danced on my grave. “Meet me, Vivian,” he begged, his voice dropping to a desperate whisper. “Please. Just for a few minutes. Let’s talk. For the sake of what we used to have. Remember our old feelings? I know you still care. You have to.” My stomach churned with revulsion. The man who had left me to die in a burning car dared to speak of feelings. My only feeling for him was a cold, hard hatred that this rebirth had sharpened into a diamond blade. But his desperation was an opportunity. I wanted to see his ruin up close. I wanted to look him in the eye as his world crumbled to dust. “Fine,” I said. “The café at The Orpheum Hotel. One hour.” “Thank you! Vivian, thank you, I knew you wouldn’t—” I ended the call, cutting off his pathetic gratitude. The silence that followed was heavy. Alexander’s jaw was tight, a muscle ticking furiously. “You are not going,” he stated. It wasn’t a request. It was a command. “You don’t give me orders, Alexander.” “He is a desperate man. Desperate men are dangerous.” His voice was low, a feral growl rumbling in his chest. “I will handle him for you. I can make him and his entire family disappear by morning.” “No,” I said, my resolve hardening. “This is my revenge. I will see it through myself. I need to see the hope drain from his eyes with my own two hands.” He stared at me for a long moment, the obsessive fire in his gaze burning brighter. He saw the darkness in me, the cold fury that my rebirth had forged. And he didn't fear it. He craved it. “Very well,” he conceded, the corner of his mouth ticking upwards. “But I am coming with you.” *** The Orpheum Hotel was one of King Corporation’s flagship properties. The café was a study in opulent minimalism—all glass, chrome, and hushed whispers. Of course, Alexander owned it. He was ensuring we were on his territory. I chose a table in the center, a stage for the drama I was about to direct. Alexander didn’t sit with me. He melted into the shadows near the entrance, a silent, menacing panther watching over his territory. His presence was an invisible pressure in the room. Julian arrived exactly on time, a feat for someone usually fashionably late. He looked like a ghost. His expensive suit was wrinkled, his hair was a mess, and dark circles bruised the skin under his bloodshot eyes. He scanned the café, his eyes landing on me with a pathetic flicker of hope. He rushed to the table, his movements jerky and uncoordinated. “Vivian.” I didn’t greet him. I just sipped my black coffee, my expression unbothered. “We can fix this,” he began, leaning across the table, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. “Just tell the authorities it was a collaboration. A partnership. We can say you were the secret designer all along! We’ll give you a 60% share! No—70%! Just call them off, Vivian. Please.” I set my cup down with a deliberate, soft click. “Seventy percent of a company with frozen assets, a ruined reputation, and pending criminal charges? You insult my intelligence, Julian.” His face fell. The desperation was turning ugly. “Don’t do this. After everything we had… I loved you.” “You loved my talent,” I corrected him, my voice devoid of emotion. “You loved my name. You loved the idea of me. But you never loved me. If you had, you wouldn’t have pushed me aside for her.” He flinched as if I’d struck him. “Amelia had nothing to do with this! It was all me! Blame me!” How noble. Trying to protect his true love even now. It was almost touching in its pathetic delusion. “Oh, I do blame you,” I assured him. “But I’m not foolish enough to think she’s an innocent victim.” His composure finally snapped. His face twisted into a mask of rage and despair. He reached across the table, his hand clamping down on my wrist like a manacle. “You owe me this, Vivian! I gave you everything! You were nothing before me!” he hissed, his grip tightening. “You will call them off!” A shadow fell over our table. The temperature seemed to drop twenty degrees. “Mr. White.” Alexander’s voice was pure arctic ice. Julian froze, his head snapping up to see the towering, menacing figure beside our table. Fear, stark and primal, washed over Julian’s face as he recognized the city’s most ruthless billionaire. Alexander didn’t look at Julian. His burning, obsessive gaze was fixed on Julian’s hand, still wrapped around my wrist. A wave of possessive fury emanated from him, so potent it was almost visible. He moved with chilling slowness, wrapping a protective, possessive arm around my waist and pulling me slightly back from the table, breaking Julian’s grip. The heat of his body was a stark contrast to the cold fury in his voice. “Touching my wife’s hand,” Alexander said, his voice a low, lethal promise, “will cost you your entire family legacy.” Julian snatched his hand back as if he’d been burned, his face draining of all color. “W-wife?” he stammered, his eyes wide with disbelief and terror. Alexander ignored him completely, his focus entirely on me. “Are you alright?” he murmured, his thumb stroking my side in a gesture that was both comforting and claiming. Before I could answer, a frantic voice cut through the tension. “Julian! What’s going on?” Amelia stood a few feet away, her face pale and tear-streaked. The picture of a wronged waif. She had followed him. Predictable. Her eyes darted from Julian’s terrified face to Alexander’s arm wrapped securely around my waist. A flicker of shock, then pure, venomous jealousy contorted her features before she masked it with false concern. “Vivian…” she whimpered, tears welling in her eyes. “How could you do this to us? To Julian? We’re your family!” I finally stood, disentangling myself from Alexander’s hold, though he remained a menacing presence at my back. I looked down at my cowering sister and the pathetic man she’d ruined herself for. “Family?” I let out a short, bitter laugh. “Family doesn’t orchestrate a car crash to get rid of a problem.” Julian’s head shot up, his eyes widening in pure horror. Amelia gasped, her face turning as white as a sheet. They thought I didn’t know. They thought I didn’t remember the screech of tires, the smell of gasoline, and their shadowy figures walking away from the wreck in my past life. Julian staggered back, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. “How… how could you possibly know about that?”

Chapter 8: The Desperate Ex-Fiancé