The pen felt heavier than a sword in Luella's hand.
She sat in the back of Xavier Vane's sleek, black Maybach, the scent of expensive leather and his cold, woody cologne filling the cramped space. Beside her, the "Titan of the North" was already back on his phone, typing away as if he hadn't just agreed to marry a dead woman.
"Read it carefully," Xavier said without looking up. "Once you sign, there is no turning back. You become a Vane. My enemies become yours, and your debt to me becomes absolute."
Luella scanned the document. It was cold and clinical, just like the man who wrote it.
1.Duration: Three years.
2.Conduct: No scandals. No public displays of affection unless required for "Face."
3.Compensation: Full access to a secondary Vane credit line and a team of private investigators.
She didn't hesitate. She signed her name—Luella Qiao—with a sharp, elegant flourish.
"The wedding is at 10:00 AM tomorrow," Xavier stated, finally locking his phone. "It will be private. Just a registration. However, tomorrow night is the Qiao Group's 30th Anniversary Gala. We will make our debut there."
Luella's heart skipped. The anniversary gala. Her father—no, the man who disowned her—would be there. Her half-sister, Tiffany, who had stolen her life and her fiancé, would be the star of the show.
"You want to go to their territory on our first day?" Luella asked, her voice tight.
Xavier turned his head, his dark eyes boring into hers. "You said you wanted a weapon, Luella. I'm giving you the biggest one in the country. Don't tell me you're afraid to pull the trigger."
"I'm not afraid," she snapped. "I just want to make sure they bleed when I do."
A ghost of a smirk appeared on Xavier's lips—so fast she almost missed it. "Good. My stylist will be at your hotel at dawn. You've been a ghost for five years. Tomorrow, I want you to look like a goddess of war."
When the car dropped her off at a modest hotel on the outskirts of the city, Luella stood on the sidewalk and watched the taillights disappear. She was no longer Luella the fugitive. She was a woman with the power of the Vane family behind her.
Upstairs in her small room, she opened a hidden folder on her laptop. Pictures of Tiffany Qiao and her former fiancé, Julian, filled the screen. They looked happy. They looked successful.
"Enjoy your last night of peace," Luella whispered to the screen, her reflection in the dark window looking sharper and more dangerous than ever before. "Because tomorrow, the 'dead' daughter is coming home to claim her throne."