Chapter 2

As I stepped out of the villa, the evening breeze hit my face, cold and sharp.

I pulled out my phone and dialed a number. "It's me," I said. "Start the plan."

There was a pause on the other end before the person asked, "Are you sure?"

I glanced back at the villa, its windows glowing with light. "I'm sure," I replied. "From today on, Elena is dead."

The car was heading back to my temporary apartment. The driver was Ryan Mitchell, my friend for years.

He glanced at me in the rearview mirror. "Are you really sure about this?"

I nodded. "I'm sure."

He sighed. "Why bother? For that scumbag?"

I didn't say anything, just stared out the window as the city lights blurred past. Three years of memories flashed through my mind like a movie on fast forward.

I was twenty-two, just graduated from college, and the Summers Group was about to go under.

Robby Sterling, my grandfather's old friend, came to see my dad.

He said the Sterling family could help us out financially, but there was one catch: I had to marry Charles.

I knew Robby was doing it because of the bond he had with my grandfather, wanting to look out for me for the rest of my life.

I also knew Charles already had someone else in his heart, a woman named Vivian.

At the engagement party, Charles held my hand in front of all the guests, but his words were aimed straight at the cameras.

"We can get married," he said, "but Vivian is the only one I'll ever love."

The guests gasped, the whole room buzzing with shock.

I stood next to him in my white dress, feeling like the punchline of a cruel joke.

My eyes were red, but I forced a smile for the cameras. "It's okay," I said. "I can wait."

Everyone thought I was head over heels for him.

But only I knew. I was just waiting for Summers Group to survive, waiting for my chance to finally leave.

And that wait lasted three whole years.

The first year, Vivian was filming overseas and ended up hurting her wrist.

Charles was spending my twenty-third birthday with me.

As soon as his phone rang, he left the cake with the candles still burning and booked the earliest flight out.

On the table sat the birthday present he'd given me, a car key.

I sat alone in the empty dining room, eating the cake by myself.

The next day, I sold the car without a second thought.

The second year, I came down with acute appendicitis. The pain hit me in the middle of the night, so bad I could barely stay conscious.

I called Charles again and again over a dozen times, but he didn't answer once.

He finally called me back the next morning, his voice tired. "Vivian had a fever last night. I was at the hospital with her all night. What's going on?"

Lying in my hospital bed with an IV in my arm, I spoke softly, "It's nothing. I just wanted to know when you'd be coming home."

He said, "Maybe in a few days. Vivian needs me to take care of her."

I hung up, just stared up at the ceiling, and for the first time, I couldn't hold back my tears.

It wasn't because he didn't love me. It was because, right then, it just hurt so much.

The third year, this year, Robby's health was getting worse, and he kept pushing us to have a baby.

That night, for the first time, Charles took the initiative to stay in my room.

He was drunk, and he smelled like some unfamiliar perfume.

He held me, but the name he whispered was "Vivian..."

I pushed him away.

His eyes were glazed with alcohol as he looked at me, and then a sudden, bitter laugh escaped him.

"Elena," he slurred, "don't forget you're nothing but a pawn my grandfather bought to chain me down.

"Who the hell do you think you are, laying a finger on me? You're not even worthy to touch my jacket."

After that night, I never let him into my room again.

I started secretly shifting my assets, reaching out to friends overseas, and setting up my escape route.

The Summers Group was thriving, even more successful than before. I didn't need the Sterling family's backing anymore.

The moment I'd been waiting for had finally arrived.

"We're here," Ryan's voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

I came back to myself, realizing the car had already stopped outside my apartment building.

I unbuckled my seatbelt. "Thanks, Ryan."

He looked at me, hesitating, like he wanted to say something but couldn't. "Elena, are you sure you'll be okay on your own?"

I gave him a reassuring smile. "Don't worry. I'm not the Elena from three years ago anymore."

I stepped out of the car, pushed open the door, and walked into the elevator. I looked at myself in the mirror—my face was pale, but there was a calmness in my eyes.

Yes. I was not that person anymore. From the moment I signed those divorce papers, the Elena who loved Charles was gone for good.

Now, the Elena standing here was someone new, someone who lived only for herself.

When I got home, I fired up my laptop. On the screen was a detailed plan.

The title read: [The Phoenix Scheme].

[Step 1: Legal Separation. Leave everything behind, cut off all legal and financial ties. (Completed)]

[Step 2: Social Death. Stage the perfect accident to erase the identity of "Elena" completely. (In progress)]

[Step 3: New Life Abroad. Settle down in Astoria, Valerius, with a new name and a fresh start. (Pending)]

[Step 4: The Endgame.]

I stared at the words "The Endgame," my mouse hovering over a line of small text.

[At Charles and Vivian's wedding, I'll give them a gift they'll remember for the rest of their lives.]

A cold smile crept across my face.