The clock ticked faintly in the background as Clara leaned back in her chair, her eyes fixed on the shimmering surface of her untouched tea. The morning light spilled through the arched windows of the Montgomery estate, casting a soft golden hue over the room—but Clara's thoughts were far from serene.
She was waiting. Watching.
Testing.
Today was a test.
One of many.
And it would determine how much of the future she could still change.
Five years ago, she had been naive. Rhea's betrayal had come wrapped in laughter, disguised by friendship. It had been a dagger Clara never saw coming—until it was too late.
But this time, Clara had the script.
And she wasn't about to let history repeat itself without a fight.
8:00 AM – The First Trigger
"Good morning, Clara," Rhea chirped as she swept into the room, dressed in a cream-colored blouse tucked into a flared skirt, her long hair cascading in a perfectly careless way over her shoulders. "You're up early."
Clara smiled, rising to kiss her cheek. "Couldn't sleep. Too much on my mind."
Rhea's eyes sparkled. "Still thinking about Damien?"
Clara's laugh was practiced. Light. Believable. "When am I not?"
They sat opposite each other at the breakfast table. Rhea poured herself a cup of coffee and started stirring sugar into it absentmindedly, her gaze flitting around the room.
Clara watched her, waiting.
The betrayal she remembered had started with a whisper—just a seemingly harmless suggestion that Clara should invest in a luxury beauty brand. A small, "innocent" opportunity, backed by Damien's cousin, that would end in Clara losing a large chunk of her trust fund.
It had seemed like a business flop.
But in truth, it was a trap.
Today, she expected the first hint of that plan to surface.
And she intended to shut it down before it could begin.
10:30 AM – The Pitch
"You know," Rhea said casually, tapping her fingers against her coffee cup, "I had lunch with Damien's cousin Lance yesterday."
Clara's heart skipped.
Bingo.
"Oh? I didn't know you two were that close," Clara replied, feigning mild interest.
Rhea shrugged. "He's full of interesting ideas. He mentioned a new skincare line he's launching. Says he's looking for a couple of 'smart investors with social reach.' I told him I'd mention it to you."
Clara tilted her head. "You think I have social reach?"
Rhea grinned. "Please. You're the most talked-about debutante in the city. You're not even trying and the press eats you up."
Clara chuckled, but her mind was racing. This was it—the beginning of the investment scam. Five years ago, she'd put in ten million. This time, she would pretend to consider it… just to see who else was involved.
"What's the name of the brand again?" Clara asked, reaching for a notepad.
Rhea blinked, momentarily thrown. "Uh, I think it was something like... Luma Belle. Fancy stuff. I think he's got a whole pitch deck if you're interested."
"Oh, I'm definitely interested," Clara said sweetly.
Rhea beamed.
Clara's stomach turned.
1:15 PM – The Silent Call
Clara locked herself in her study and called an old contact—Maxwell Lin, the forensic accountant who had once exposed Damien's offshore shell companies in her past life.
"Clara Montgomery," he said, his voice cool and amused. "I never expected a call from you again."
"I know," Clara said. "But I need a quick favor."
"What are we digging up?"
"A skincare brand called Luma Belle. I need dirt. Fast."
There was silence, then a chuckle. "Well, you always did pick the juicy ones. Give me a few hours."
3:00 PM – The Party Invite
That afternoon, Clara received a formal invitation—Rhea's doing. Lance would be hosting a cocktail event to "celebrate beauty, wealth, and vision." It reeked of pretension.
Rhea was glowing when she came in to share the news. "You're coming, right?"
"Of course," Clara said. "I wouldn't miss it."
Internally, she was noting every detail. Every name Rhea dropped. Every change in her tone. Every half-second hesitation.
Rhea wasn't just a pawn.
She was far more involved than Clara had realized.
6:30 PM – The Surveillance Set-Up
In her previous life, Clara had been too trusting. Too blind.
Now, she had taken a different approach.
She'd hired someone to install a bug in Rhea's handbag during the afternoon. A tiny, state-of-the-art recorder that would capture conversations for the next 48 hours.
Tonight's party would be her first real chance at hard evidence.
Clara slipped the receiver into her ear as she got dressed.
9:15 PM – The Party
The air was thick with perfume and money.
The event was a sea of champagne flutes and forced laughter. Clara stepped into the venue with confidence, her crimson dress hugging her body like armor. Rhea followed close behind, excited and radiant.
Clara could feel the weight of eyes on her—whispers from familiar strangers, reporters in the distance. But none of that mattered. Her eyes were searching for Lance.
She spotted him at the bar, tall and lean, his arrogant smile plastered like a billboard. He looked exactly as she remembered—sleazy, with the charm of a used car salesman and the ethics to match.
He turned, noticed her, and gave a wink.
She smiled back.
Let the games begin.
10:05 PM – The Setup
Clara and Rhea stood near the fireplace, sipping cocktails, when Lance joined them.
"Clara, what an honor," he said, brushing a kiss on her hand. "I've heard so much about you."
"All good things, I hope," she replied smoothly.
"Only the best. Rhea said you might be interested in our upcoming launch?"
Clara nodded. "She mentioned it. I'd love to hear more."
They moved to a corner booth. Lance launched into a well-rehearsed pitch—buzzwords, projections, influencer partnerships. It was slick. Polished. But Clara saw through it all.
"What kind of returns are you estimating?" she asked.
"Fifty percent within eight months," Lance said without blinking.
Clara laughed lightly. "That's ambitious."
"Risk breeds reward," he replied with a smirk.
As they talked, she caught Rhea's glance—tense, uncertain.
She's worried I'll back out.
And Clara wasn't going to make it that easy.
"I'll need to review the documents," Clara said, standing. "But it sounds promising."
11:30 PM – The Truth Slips Out
Later that night, back in her room, Clara played the audio file from Rhea's bag.
There it was—the truth.
Rhea's voice, whispering in the ladies' lounge:
"She's biting. Told you she wouldn't suspect a thing. Clara always was a little too trusting... Once the money's in, we split it the same way, right? Thirty for me, seventy for you?"
Clara's blood ran cold.
So it's true. She was in on it from the start.
But as the recording continued, a deeper truth emerged:
"You're sure she won't come back to bite us? Damien's been acting strange lately. Ever since she came back, he's been more... distant."
Clara leaned in.
"Relax," Lance's voice cut in. "He doesn't even know about the account in his name. Clara's still hooked on him. She won't see it coming until it's too late."
Her breath caught.
There's more. A lot more.
The Betrayal Foiled... Almost
Clara didn't invest.
She sent a message the next day to Lance's team, thanking them for the opportunity but declining the offer.
The shock on Rhea's face that morning was priceless. "You're backing out?"
Clara sipped her tea. "I've decided to take a more conservative investment approach for now. But thanks for thinking of me."
Rhea's expression faltered, just briefly.
But Clara knew this wasn't over.
The trap had been triggered—but not completely sprung.
She had prevented the loss of millions.
But she hadn't exposed them.
Not yet.
This betrayal wasn't just about money. It was part of something bigger—something that wrapped around Damien, Lance, and perhaps even her father's legacy.
The war had begun.
Clara just needed to play the long game.
And Rhea?
She was the perfect pawn.