Bella's POV
The champagne glass slips from my hand.
I watch it fall in slow motion, the expensive crystal spinning through the air. It hits the marble floor and explodes into a thousand pieces. Just like my life is about to.
Everyone at my engagement party stops talking. Two hundred pairs of eyes turn to stare at me. My face burns hot.
"Sorry," I whisper, bending down to pick up the pieces. My hands shake. "I'm so clumsy—"
"Leave it," my fiancé Marcus says, his voice cold. "The staff will clean it."
He doesn't even look at me. He's staring at his phone, typing fast. His jaw is tight, like he's angry about something.
My step-sister Vivian appears beside me with a bright smile. "Bella, you're so nervous! It's cute." She squeezes my arm a little too hard. "Everything's going to be perfect tonight. I promise."
Something in her voice makes my stomach twist. But I push the feeling away. I'm just being paranoid. Vivian has been so nice lately, helping me plan this whole party. We used to fight when we were kids, but we're friends now.
Aren't we?
"Thank you for everything," I tell her, trying to smile. "I couldn't have done this without you."
"Oh, I know," she says sweetly. Then she walks away, her dress swishing.
I stand alone in the middle of the ballroom, surrounded by hundreds of people I barely know. They're all here because of my father—Richard Hartley, one of the richest men in the city. These people are his business partners, his friends, his world.
None of them are here for me.
I look around for my dad. He's across the room, laughing with important-looking men in suits. He hasn't talked to me all night. Actually, he hasn't really talked to me in years. Not since Mom died.
Sometimes I wonder if he wishes I had died instead of her.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" A voice booms through the speakers. It's Marcus. He's on the stage now, holding a microphone. "Thank you all for coming to celebrate our engagement!"
Everyone claps. I force myself to smile and wave.
Marcus looks so handsome in his suit, his blonde hair perfectly styled. When he first asked me out a year ago, I couldn't believe it. He was a successful lawyer. I was just a college student studying criminal psychology. Why would he want me?
But he said he loved me. He said I was special.
"I want to show you all something," Marcus continues, his voice echoing. "A tribute to my beautiful bride-to-be."
The lights suddenly go out.
The room goes completely black. People gasp and murmur. My heart starts beating faster. Something feels wrong.
"Marcus?" I call out. "What's going on?"
No one answers.
Then the giant screen behind the stage flickers to life. At first, I don't understand what I'm seeing. It's photos. Bank statements. Documents with my name on them.
"The Hartley Group Account - $500,000 withdrawn by Isabelle Hartley."
"Hartley Foundation Funds - $750,000 stolen by Isabelle Hartley."
"Total theft: $3.2 million."
My blood turns to ice.
"What?" I whisper. "No. That's not—I never—"
More images flash on the screen. Photos of me kissing men I've never met. Me in hotel rooms I've never been to. Me counting stacks of cash.
They're not real. They CAN'T be real.
But they look so real.
"Oh my God," someone behind me gasps.
"She stole from her own family?"
"What a disgrace!"
The whispers grow louder, meaner. The lights slam back on, blinding me. Everyone is staring at me with disgust and shock.
I spin around, looking for Marcus. He's still on stage, but now his face is twisted with hurt and anger.
"How could you?" he shouts, his voice breaking. "I trusted you! I loved you!"
"Marcus, no!" I run toward the stage, tripping over my dress. "Those photos are fake! I didn't do any of that! Please, you have to believe me!"
"Fake?" He laughs bitterly. "The bank has records, Bella. The hotels have security footage. The evidence is everywhere!"
"But I never—" My voice cracks. Tears pour down my face. "I would never steal from my family! I don't understand what's happening!"
I look at the crowd, searching for someone who believes me. Anyone.
My father pushes through the crowd. Finally. He'll fix this. He'll tell everyone it's a mistake.
"Dad!" I reach for him. "Dad, please, you know I didn't—"
His hand connects with my cheek.
The slap echoes through the silent ballroom. My head snaps to the side. Pain explodes across my face. I can't breathe.
Did my father just hit me?
"You're no daughter of mine," he says, his voice shaking with rage. "Security! Get her out of here. Now."
"No, wait—" Strong hands grab my arms. Two security guards drag me backward. "Dad, please! I'm innocent! You have to investigate—"
"I already did." His eyes are cold, like he's looking at a stranger. "The proof is clear. You're a thief and a liar. I want you out of my house. Out of my life. You're dead to me."
Dead to me.
The words hit harder than his slap.
The guards pull me toward the exit. I fight and scream, but no one helps me. They just watch, their faces filled with judgment and satisfaction.
I catch a glimpse of Vivian in the crowd. She's not looking at me with shock or sadness.
She's smiling.
That's when I understand. This was planned. All of it.
But why? And by who?
The guards throw me out the front doors. I land hard on the stone steps, scraping my knees. The doors slam shut behind me.
Rain starts to fall.
I sit there on the cold steps in my ruined white dress, blood mixing with rainwater. My whole world just ended, and I don't even know why.
My phone is gone. My purse is gone. Everything is gone.
Suddenly, I hear footsteps behind me. The door opens again.
Marcus stands there, silhouetted against the light. For a second, I think he's come to apologize. To say he believes me.
Then I see what he's holding.
Divorce papers.
"Sign these," he says flatly, throwing them at me. They scatter in the rain. "Our marriage is scheduled for next month, but I'm ending this now. Sign, and I won't press criminal charges."
"Marcus," I sob. "Please. I love you. We can figure this out—"
"I never loved you, Bella." His words are like knives. "You were just... convenient. Now you're a liability. Sign the papers and disappear. If I ever see you again, I'll make sure you rot in prison."
He walks back inside and slams the door.
I'm alone in the rain, with nothing and no one.
I try to stand up, but my legs won't work. My chest hurts like something inside me is breaking.
How did this happen? This morning, I woke up happy. I had a fiancé, a family, a future.
Now I have nothing.
I force myself to stand. I have to get away from here. I stumble down the steps and start walking, not knowing where I'm going.
Behind me, I hear the party starting again. Music and laughter drift through the windows.
They've already forgotten about me.
Rain pours harder. I'm so cold. So tired. So broken.
I don't see the group of photographers until they surround me, cameras flashing.
"Isabelle Hartley! Did you really steal millions?"
"Why did you betray your family?"
"Are you a criminal?"
They shout questions and push closer. One of them shoves me hard. I fall backward and my head cracks against concrete.
Pain explodes through my skull. Blood, warm and wet, runs down my face.
The cameras keep flashing.
I crawl away from them, into a dark alley. My vision is blurry. Everything hurts.
I'm going to die here, I think. Alone in the rain. Destroyed by people I trusted.
Through the pain and tears, I whisper the names of everyone who did this to me.
"Marcus... Vivian... Father..."
My eyes start to close.
Then I feel strong arms lift me off the ground. A deep voice speaks close to my ear.
"I've got you."
I try to see who it is, but everything's going dark. All I can make out are eyes—steel gray eyes that seem to glow in the darkness.
"Who..." I manage to whisper.
"Someone who knows exactly how this feels," the voice answers. "Don't worry. You're going to survive this. And when you do, you're going to make them all pay."
The world fades to black.
But just before I lose consciousness, I hear him say one more thing that sends a chill down my spine:
"Sleep now, Bella. When you wake up, the girl you were will be dead. And someone much more dangerous will be born."