Chapter 5
Chapter 5
LUCIA POINT OF VIEW
"It's time," Salome says, walking into my room without knocking.
I look up from the business reports I've been studying. Three months of training have made me fluent in corporate language, but my head still spins with profit margins and acquisition strategies.
"Time for what?"
"Your debut." She's holding an invitation, thick cream paper with gold lettering. "The Hartwell Foundation Gala. Tomorrow night."
My heart starts pounding before I even ask the question. "Will they be there?"
"David and Yvonne Rodriguez will be among the three hundred guests." Her smile is sharp as a blade. "It's time to test whether Isabella Valen can fool the people who knew Lucia Mendez best."
The invitation trembles in my hands as I read it. An evening of charity, elegance, and networking. The kind of event Lucia used to attend on David's arm, back when she believed in fairy tales.
"I'm not ready," I whisper.
"You are." Salome walks to my closet and pulls out a dress I've never seen before. Crimson silk that catches the light like liquid fire. "You've been ready for weeks. You just need to believe it."
The crimson dress hangs against my skin like liquid fire.
I stare at myself in the full-length mirror, and the woman looking back is someone I've never seen before. The dress clings to curves that surgery made more defined. The deep red fabric makes my new blonde hair look almost white in contrast. My eyes, enhanced with contacts that turn them from brown to startling green, look like emeralds set in porcelain.
I am Isabella Valen.
And tonight, I hunt.
"You look magnificent," Salome says from behind me. She's dressed in midnight blue, her silver hair twisted into an elegant knot. "Are you ready for this?"
My hands shake as I clasp the diamond necklace around my throat. Each stone is worth more than most people earn in a lifetime. The weight of it feels like armor.
"What if he recognizes me?"
"He won't." Salome's voice carries absolute certainty. "Look at yourself, Isabella. You're not the broken girl who bled on that altar. You're someone entirely new."
I take a deep breath and study my reflection again. She's right. The face looking back at me is beautiful in a way that Lucia never was. Sharp where she was soft. Cold where she was warm. Dangerous where she was naive.
"The Hartwell Foundation Gala," I say, testing the words on my tongue. "Three hundred of the city's most powerful people."
"Including David Rodriguez and his new wife."
The words hit me like ice water. Wife. He married Yvonne. They used my money to build their new life, and now they're living it publicly.
"When did they get married?"
"Two months ago. Small ceremony in the Bahamas. Very intimate." Salome's smile is sharp as broken glass. "They're quite the power couple now. He's using your inheritance to buy his way into high society. She's playing the role of devoted spouse."
Rage burns through my chest, but I keep my face calm. Isabella doesn't lose control. Isabella plans.
"What's my story tonight?"
"You're my daughter, returning from five years in Europe. Oxford educated, as we discussed. You've been managing our interests overseas, but now you're ready to expand into the American market." She adjusts a fold in my dress. "You're wealthy, intelligent, and completely untouchable."
The limousine ride to the hotel feels endless. I sit in silence, practicing Isabella's expressions in the tinted window's reflection. The slight smile that doesn't reach my eyes. The way she tilts her head when she's listening. The graceful way she moves her hands.
By the time we arrive, I am her completely.
The Meridian Hotel's ballroom is a cathedral of wealth and power. Crystal chandeliers hang from painted ceilings. Men in thousand-dollar suits shake hands over deals worth millions. Women in designer gowns glide between conversations like elegant sharks.
This is where I belong now. Where I've always belonged.
"Isabella," Salome murmurs as we enter, "remember what I taught you. Watch. Listen. Learn who holds real power and who only pretends to."
I nod, my eyes already scanning the crowd. Politicians, business leaders, old money families, all of them gathered to celebrate charity while they really trade favors and information.
And somewhere in this room are David and Yvonne.
"Miss Valen?" A man approaches us, his smile too wide, too eager. "Thomas Hartwell. Welcome to our little gathering."
I extend my hand the way Salome taught me. Not too eager, not too distant. "Mr. Hartwell. Thank you for having me. I've heard wonderful things about your foundation's work."
"All true, I assure you." His eyes linger on my face, trying to place me. "Have we met before? You look familiar."
Ice runs through my veins, but I keep smiling. "I don't think so. I've been living in Europe for several years. Perhaps you knew my mother?"
"Ah, that must be it." He seems satisfied with the explanation, but then his expression shifts slightly. "Wait, didn't Valen Industries have offices in Brussels? I thought I heard they closed down."
My heart stops for a split second. I don't know anything about Brussels offices. Salome never mentioned them.
"We shut them down recently," I say, fighting to keep my voice steady. "Regulatory issues. Too much red tape."
"Of course, of course. European bureaucracy." He nods knowingly. "Please, enjoy the evening. I do hope we'll have a chance to speak more later."
As he walks away, Salome touches my arm. "Well done. But be more careful... people here know more than they let on."
My hands are shaking now. I came so close to being exposed in the first five minutes.
We move deeper into the crowd. I accept champagne I don't drink and smile at people whose names I'll never remember. Every conversation is a performance, every laugh calculated.
Then I see him.
David stands near the bar, wearing a tuxedo that probably cost more than my old car. He looks older somehow, more confident. Success suits him. My money suits him.
Next to him, Yvonne laughs at something he's said. She's wearing emerald green, and her hair is shorter now, styled in a way that makes her look sophisticated instead of sweet. The girl who used to braid my hair and paint my nails is gone, replaced by someone harder.
They look happy.
The thought hits me like a physical blow. They destroyed my life, killed my baby, stole everything I had.... and they look genuinely happy.
"There they are," Salome whispers. "Do you want to leave?"
"No." The word comes out harder than I intended. "I want to get closer."
We move through the crowd like predators stalking prey. I catch fragments of their conversation as we approach.
".... the Singapore deal should close next week...."
"....thinking about buying a place in the Hamptons..."
"....never thought we'd get this far this fast..."
They're talking about my money like it was always theirs. Like they earned it instead of stealing it from a girl who trusted them.
David turns, scanning the room, and his eyes land on me.
For a moment, the world stops.
He's looking directly at me, his dark eyes taking in my face, my dress, my body. I can see him trying to process what he's seeing. The appreciation in his gaze makes my skin crawl.
He doesn't recognize me.
The man who claimed to love me, who promised to cherish me forever, who knew every inch of my body, he's staring at me like I'm a stranger.
A beautiful stranger he'd like to know better.
"Excuse me," he says to Yvonne, then starts walking toward me.