---- Chapter 11 Eliza POV: The London law firm was a different universe. It was a glittering world of razor-sharp minds, bespoke suits, and billion -pound deals. Here, talent wasn't just valued; it was the baseline. Everyone was a genius. Everyone was ambitious. For the first time in years, | felt alive. | threw myself into the work, arriving before anyone else and leaving long after the city lights had blurred into a glittering tapestry outside my office window. The ghosts of my past- Cash, the baby, my mother-were still there, but their voices were muffled by the sheer volume of my new life. The work was a balm, a shield, a purpose. The heartbroken girl who had followed a man's lead was gone, replaced by a woman forged in the fires of betrayal. Then, one rainy Tuesday afternoon, a call came through on my private line. An unknown number with a New York area code. "Long time no see, counselor," a lazy, familiar voice drawled. Dane Wells. "What do you want, Dane?" | asked, my tone clipped. | had no time for games. ---- "Dinner," he said. "I'm in town. And before you say no, look out your window." | glanced down at the street below my fortieth-floor office. A cherry-red Ferrari, so ostentatious it was practically screaming for attention, was parked illegally at the curb. A man in a tailored suit leaned against it, sunglasses on despite the gloomy weather. He raised a hand and waved. To avoid a scene, | met him downstairs. "| have five minutes," | said, crossing my arms. "You've changed," he said, his playful grin faltering as he took me in. The old Eliza wore soft cardigans and flowing skirts. This new Eliza wore a stark, impeccably tailored pantsuit, her hair pulled back in a severe chignon, her eyes sharp and guarded. The softness was gone, replaced by polished armor. He drove us to a quiet, discreet restaurant in Mayfair. Once we were settled in a private booth, he dropped the playboy facade. "| have a proposition for you," he said, his voice serious. "| want to destroy the Robinson and Yang empires. And | need your help." He laid it all out. The Robinsons and the Yangs were about to launch a massive joint venture, a new energy project that was their biggest gamble yet. They had poured billions into it. "But there's a flaw," Dane said, a predatory glint in his eye. "A big one. The core technology relies on a mineral that's about ---- to be hit with sweeping international trade sanctions. Their supply chain is going to be cut off overnight. They'll be ruined." He slid a file across the table. It was a detailed breakdown of the corporate structure, the investors, the timelines. "Cash is too distracted to see it," Dane continued. "He' s been flying all over the world, chasing your ghost. He' s completely abdicated his responsibilities. The company is vulnerable. With a little push, the whole thing will collapse. And when it does, I'll be there to buy up the pieces for pennies on the dollar." He wanted me to handle the legal end-the contracts, the loopholes, the hostile takeover. | was silent for a long moment, studying his face. "Why?" | finally asked. "Why are you doing this? This goes beyond business rivalry. This is personal." He tried to flash his charming smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Let's just say our families have a long and complicated history." | saw the lie, but | also saw the opportunity. This wasn't just about business for him; his family, the Wells dynasty, had been rivals of the Robinsons for generations. This was about power. And for me, it was about justice. "I'm in," | said. Over the next year, Dane and | became a two-person wrecking crew. We communicated through encrypted messages, ---- working in the shadows. He fed me insider information, and | used my legal expertise to weave a web so intricate, so complex, that the Robinsons and Yangs would never see it coming until it was too late. We were a formidable team. The broken pieces of my past were slowly being reassembled into a weapon. One evening, | received a simple text from Dane. It's time. See you in New York. The final battle was about to begin. | flew back a week later. As | stepped out of a cab in front of my new apartment building in SoHo, a figure emerged from the shadows across the street. My heart stopped. It was Cash. He looked... broken. He was thinner, his face gaunt and unshaven. The arrogant confidence that had once been his defining feature was gone, replaced by a desperate, haunted look. He stared at me, his eyes wide with a mixture of disbelief and a pain so profound it was almost tangible. He took a hesitant step toward me. | didn't move. | didn't smile. | just stood there, my face a cold, blank mask. ---- The time for tears was over. The time for revenge had come.