"I'll send a car to the north gate at midnight," the gruff voice of my father’s old fixer replied, not missing a beat. "Be invisible, Miss Louisa."
"I always am," I whispered, and ended the call.
I slipped the satellite phone and the silver flash drive into the hidden lining of my makeup bag. Then, I turned to the closet. Evans had ordered me to wear the blue silk dress. The old Louisa would have thrown it out the window. The new Louisa knew that revenge required a costume.
I slipped the dress on, brushed my hair until it gleamed, and pinched my cheeks to give my pale, hollowed face a semblance of life. Looking in the mirror, I didn't see a victim anymore. I saw a loaded gun.
When I descended the grand staircase at exactly eight o'clock, Evans and Colleen were already seated at the long mahogany dining table. Colleen was practically draped over Evans’s arm, whispering in his ear.
They both stopped and stared as I walked in.
I kept my eyes downcast, my shoulders slightly hunched—the perfect picture of the broken, medicated girl they had created.
"Louisa," Evans said, his voice dripping with condescending approval. "You look beautiful. Sit."
I took the seat across from them. The private chef served the lobster risotto in suffocating silence. I picked up my fork and took a bite, forcing myself to swallow the rich food even though my stomach churned with disgust.
"We have a lot to do," Evans announced, swirling the red wine in his glass. "The board is expecting a public appearance. We are moving the wedding up. It will be this Saturday."
Four days. He was rushing it. He was desperate to get his hands on the final forty percent of my father's trust.
Colleen smirked, taking a sip of her sparkling water. "I already called the tailors, Louisa. They’re coming tomorrow to take your measurements. We wouldn't want you looking sickly in the wedding photos, would we?"
I looked up, meeting Evans’s cold gaze. I forced my eyes to well up with tears, drawing on every ounce of trauma they had inflicted on me. "Whatever you think is best, Evans," I said, my voice trembling perfectly. "I just... I just want to be good. I don't want to go back to the hospital."
Evans’s chest puffed out slightly. The arrogant fool bought it completely. He reached across the table and patted my hand. "As long as you behave, darling, you'll never see those padded walls again."
I smiled weakly. Neither will you, I thought. Because you're going to prison.
The rest of the evening was a masterclass in endurance. I endured Colleen’s subtle insults. I endured Evans’s controlling demands. And at ten o'clock, I excused myself, claiming the new medication made me exhausted.
I waited in my dark bedroom, watching the clock on the wall tick toward midnight.
At 11:50 PM, I grabbed a small duffel bag I had packed with my father's hidden cash, the flash drive, and the burner phone. I slipped out the French doors of my balcony, using the thick ivy trellis to climb down to the gardens—a trick I hadn't used since I was a rebellious teenager.
The night air was biting, a light drizzle of rain masking the sound of my footsteps as I sprinted across the sprawling, manicured lawns toward the north gate.
My heart hammered against my ribs. If the estate guards caught me, Evans would have me committed before sunrise.
I reached the heavy iron gates and slipped through the pedestrian side-door, stepping out onto the desolate, winding mountain road.
Headlights cut through the fog.
A sleek, black Maybach rolled to a silent stop right in front of me. The back door popped open.
I didn't hesitate. I threw my bag in and climbed into the plush leather interior, slamming the door shut as the car immediately sped off into the night.
"Thank God," I breathed out, shivering from the rain. "I have the flash drive. We need to get to a secure—"
I froze.
The man sitting in the shadows of the opposite seat wasn't my father's gruff, aging fixer.
He was young, devastatingly handsome, and radiated an aura of pure, suffocating power. He wore a bespoke charcoal suit, his long legs crossed casually, a glass of amber liquid resting in his hand. His sharp, piercing gray eyes locked onto mine, stripping away every defense I had just built.
I knew exactly who he was.
Silas Sterling.
The ruthless billionaire CEO of Sterling Enterprises. My father’s greatest rival, and the one man in the city that Evans was absolutely terrified of.
"You're not Arthur," I whispered, my hand inching toward the door handle.
"Arthur works for me now," Silas said, his voice a low, dark velvet that sent a shiver down my spine. He took a slow sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving mine. "He told me the lost heiress finally found her claws and wanted to burn Evans to the ground. I must admit, I'm intrigued."
"Let me out of this car," I demanded, my pulse racing. "I don't make deals with the devil."
Silas chuckled, a dark, dangerous sound. He leaned forward, the streetlights illuminating the sharp, predatory angles of his face.
"You don't have a choice, Louisa. Evans has the judges, the doctors, and the police in his pocket. If you run, he will hunt you down and lock you away forever." Silas tilted his head, his gaze dropping to my lips before meeting my eyes again. "But he can't touch you if you belong to me."
I stared at him, my breath catching in my throat. "What are you talking about?"
Silas reached into his jacket and pulled out a thick, legal document, tossing it onto the seat between us.
"Evans needs to marry you by Saturday to steal your trust fund," Silas said softly, a wicked, ruinous smile spreading across his lips. "So, we are going to ruin his life the only way we can. You're going to marry me tomorrow morning."
