Chapter 4

I opened my eyes.

The person in the mirror had close-cropped, almost shaved hair.

My face was still gaunt, my lips dry, but my eyes, though the fever hadn't fully faded, no longer showed the dullness or pain from before.

All that was left was a cold, clear gaze, like a blade forged in fire.

I reached up and touched my prickly scalp.

It felt a bit unfamiliar, but incredibly light, like I'd finally shed a heavy shackle I'd carried for seven years, one already drenched in cold sweat.

"Thanks," I said as I stood up, pulling a card from my bag and handing it to the barber.

By the time I left, the sky was already turning pale gray.

Back in the car, I didn't start the engine right away. Instead, I pulled out my phone and found another number in my contacts, a number I'd barely ever dialed.

The call connected almost instantly.

"Dad," I said. "I've moved out. It's over between Victor and me."

There was a brief silence on the other end.

Then my father, Charles Yeats, the leader of the Yeats family, spoke, his voice carrying a deep, steady calm, not a hint of surprise.

"Understood," he said. "Do you need the family to do anything?"

"No need," I said, watching the city skyline sharpen in the morning light. "I'll handle everything myself, cleanly. Just wanted to let you know."

"And Starlight Capital?" he added.

"I'll take care of that, too," I said, pausing. "Dad, in these seven years, how much did you pave the way for Victor, openly and behind the scenes? How much profit did we give up? Give me a number.

"Every single dollar, every favor. I want it all back from him."

I thought I heard my father sigh softly on the other end, but maybe it was my imagination.

"Autumn," he said, his voice unusually gentle. "Don't hurt yourself. We are always your safety net, not your burden.

"Do whatever you want to do. And if you need someone to clean up your mess, remember, you've still got your old man."

My eyes prickled suddenly, but I didn't let the tears spill over.

"Okay," I replied softly. "I'm hanging up."

I set my phone down and leaned back in the driver's seat, closing my eyes.

A few minutes later, I opened my eyes again, started the car, and merged into the morning traffic as the city was coming alive.

My destination was a spacious apartment near Sunrise Park, the one I'd bought before getting married, but barely lived in.

A soft beep from the fingerprint lock, and the heavy front door swung open.

The spacious 3200-square-foot apartment felt empty and cold, done up in the minimalist style that was all the rage a few years back, with black, white, and gray everywhere. It felt lifeless, but the place was kept clean by a part-time cleaner.

I tossed my bag onto the entryway island and walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Outside, the city was waking up. Traffic flowed like veins coming alive, and in the distance, the central business district skyline started to emerge through the morning mist.

I stood there for a moment before heading back to the living room and picking up my phone, which was still buzzing on and off.

Bianca had quieted down for a bit, but now she was back at it.

This time, she started a group chat thread.

Bianca: [Guys, Autumn must be really upset about losing her hair. Let's all pitch in and get her a wig. I'll go first. Just a small token of my support.]

Lily: [Count me in. If we're getting one, let's make it the brightest. How about red? That should cheer her up.]

Vera: [Me too. Let's get her a rainbow-colored one. She can switch it up every day, never the same look twice all week.]

Zachary: [I'm in. Can we get her a custom afro wig? It'd match Autumn's vibe now.]

They were discussing how much each of them would contribute, posting all kinds of playful emojis in the group chat.

I slowly scrolled through the chat.

Then Bianca dropped a selfie.

In the photo, she was sitting at a vanity in what looked like a hotel suite, wearing a silk robe and facing the mirror.

An emerald necklace hung around her neck, the gemstone casting a mysterious, intense glow under the lamp.

My breath caught for a moment.

I'd recognize that necklace anywhere.

It was a teardrop-shaped emerald surrounded by a ring of tiny diamonds on a platinum chain. It was one of my grandmother's heirlooms, passed down to me by my mother.

I'd always kept it locked away at the very back of the safe in the master bedroom of Victor's villa. Even Victor didn't know the code.

Bianca boasted in the group chat: [Victor gave me this as a welcome-back gift. He said green really suits me. Doesn't it look amazing?]

The group was instantly flooded with compliments. Some called the necklace beautiful, others said it suited Bianca perfectly, and others praised Victor's good taste and generosity.

My gaze lingered on that necklace, then drifted to the corner of some papers spread out on the vanity behind Bianca in her selfie.

On them, I could vaguely make out words like "Starlight Capital," "NEXDAQ," and "VIP guest invitation for the bell-ringing ceremony."

I took a screenshot.

I took screenshots of all Bianca's mocking comments, photos, and videos about my hair, plus her selfie with the necklace and all the teasing messages that followed. I saved them all.

Then, in that group chat I'd never spoken in for three years, I typed a period and sent it.