The doorbell rang at noon.
Ana expected a delivery.
Instead, she opened the door to find heels that cost more than rent and confidence wrapped in couture.
The woman didn't wait for permission to speak.
"Hello," she said smoothly, voice like chilled wine. "You must be the wife."
Ana blinked. "And you are?"
"Victoria Monroe," the woman answered, slipping off her sunglasses with a practiced flick. "Christian's ex-fiancée. Or, depending on who you ask, his unfinished business."
Ana didn't move. "And you thought what—just pop by for tea?"
Victoria smiled like a knife. "Relax. This isn't personal. I'm just reclaiming what's mine."
She stepped inside without being asked, perfume trailing behind her like a warning.
Ana shut the door slowly. Her heart was already sprinting.
But her voice stayed steady.
"You want him back?"
Victoria turned, one brow raised. "Please. I don't want Christian. I want the company. The power. The legacy. He was just supposed to come with it."
Ana folded her arms. "Guess he changed the deal."
Victoria laughed once, bitter and beautiful. "Christian doesn't change. He rewrites."
She stepped closer, voice low. "You think you're something new. But you're not. You're a tool. Like me. He'll use you until you break… or until he finds a shinier one."
Ana met her gaze evenly. "Maybe I'm not so easy to snap."
Victoria gave her a once-over. "No. You're not. That's why I came in person."
And then, just like that—she turned and walked out.
No goodbye. No drama.
Just polished destruction.
Ana stood in the silence she left behind, her hands balled into fists.
For the first time, she didn't feel like a stranger in her own story.
She felt like a player.
And someone just threatened to move first.
🥀 Scene Break – Victoria's POV
They called her cold.
She preferred "focused."
Victoria Monroe had once been the name on Christian Blake's future.
She hadn't loved him. But she'd liked what he stood for: power, precision, prestige. Together, they were perfect in the press and poison behind the scenes.
Until he asked for something… real.
And Victoria? She didn't do real.
So she walked.
Now, Christian had found someone else. Someone unpredictable. Someone bold.
Someone dangerous.
"Let her think she's winning," Victoria whispered to herself as her driver pulled away.
"Let him think I'm bluffing."
"This isn't about love. It never was."
"It's about control."
And she wasn't leaving until she had it back.
Ana stared at the door long after Victoria was gone.
The echo of her stilettos was still in her head, each step a reminder:
You're not the first.
You're not permanent.
You're just the next in line.
She should've been rattled.
But what Ana felt wasn't fear.
It was fuel.
She walked straight to her bedroom, stripped off the borrowed version of herself, and sat on the edge of the bed in silence.
Then she reached for the only thing that still told the truth.
Her journal.
📓 Ana's Journal Entry #3
So that was her. Victoria Monroe.
Ice queen. Socialite. Christian's ex. She had the voice of royalty and the smile of a blade.
She wanted me to feel small.
She wanted me to feel temporary.
But I've felt that before.
When my parents didn't believe in my dreams.
When companies ghosted my applications.
When I signed that contract with shaking hands.
I've been disposable before.
And I survived.
She thinks I'm a pawn.
But here's the thing about pawns—
They get to the other side of the board… they become queens.
I'm not afraid of her.
And I'm not afraid of him.
Christian Blake may have signed me like a deal...
But I don't belong to anyone.
Not anymore.
Ana closed the journal and tucked it under her pillow like a secret she refused to surrender.
This wasn't the life she planned.
But it was the war she was in.
And if Christian wanted to play with fire—
He was about to learn how hard she could burn.
🧊 That Same Afternoon
Lucas entered without knocking.
"She showed up," he said flatly.
Christian didn't look up from his laptop. "Victoria?"
Lucas tossed a sleek black file on the desk. "Tried to rattle Ana."
Christian's fingers paused over the keys.
Lucas studied him. "She good?"
"She's fine," Christian said after a pause. "Victoria won't phase her."
But part of him wasn't sure.
Ana wasn't just part of the plan anymore. She was in it. Breathing inside the cracks. Reacting to shadows he didn't even know he left.
Victoria had been predictable. Calculated.
Ana?
She was fire.
Christian leaned back, exhaling slowly.
He was in control.
He always was.
So why did it suddenly feel like he was the one standing on glass?
To be continued...