Christian had been summoned away on short notice, leaving Raelynn standing alone just outside the doors of the marriage bureau. Ignoring the drizzle that had started to fall, she hailed a passing cab and slipped inside. In the dim light of the car, she unlocked her phone, scrolling to a text message.

It was from Harvey. Earlier, in the midst of chaos, she had dragged a stranger into her ploy, orchestrating a charade just to buy her old accomplice enough time to escape.

Harvey’s message read, “How are things on your end? If Christian finds out and you're backed into a corner, just tell him the truth. Work together. You might even win back the Jones family, and with his help, you’d cure Sir Hart. You both stand to gain.”

Raelynn typed quickly, her response curt and unyielding. “You don’t get it. This divorce has to happen immediately. It has to come from Christian himself.”

Harvey replied with a tight, unimpressed ellipsis.

From his perspective, Raelynn’s fixation on this game was senseless. Annoying, even. She was the heir to the Poisoner’s Guild; one vial from her arsenal could bring an army—or a lousy philanderer like Christian—to heel. Why was she spending so much effort maneuvering him into asking for the divorce first?

Switching tactics, he texted back, “The thing you asked for is stashed in our usual spot. I can’t risk showing my face these days—his people are everywhere. Be careful. The second Hart’s condition stabilizes, I’ll be there to get you out of all this.”

Raelynn said nothing. Her fingers hovered over the screen, but instead of replying, she directed the cab to a nearby bar. It wasn’t evening yet, and the place was quiet as she walked purposefully inside and chose a seat near the bar. Minutes later, a young woman in a snow-white dress approached with two glasses of juice balanced delicately on a tray.

“Your juice’s here. You’re footing the bill.”

Though her lips curved into an impeccable work-smile, her tone was stained with a ripe annoyance. Setting the glasses down, she plopped into the seat across from Raelynn with an exaggerated sigh.

With mild exasperation, Raelynn took a sip of her drink. “What now?”

“Christian. He’s offering fifty million for Harvey’s whereabouts.”

Raelynn didn’t flinch. “I’ll give you sixty million. But you can’t let his schedule slip.”

The girl’s face lit up like someone had flipped a switch, her polished demeanor dissolving into something fluttery and uninhibited. Without hesitation, she threw herself forward, landed a noisy kiss on Raelynn’s cheek, and declared effusively, “You’re the best!”

“Ugh, gross.” Raelynn shoved her off, trying to maintain her scowl but failing outright. Amused despite herself, she shook her head. She couldn’t stay mad, not when it came to Lydia Lawrence—better known to the world as ArcticCipher, one of the top three hackers across the globe and, rather improbably, the secret owner of Joysong Bar.

They’d met some time ago under unusual circumstances. Back then, Raelynn had been sneaking herbal remedies to treat Sir Hart, dodging the watchful eyes of his family by meeting Harvey in Joysong during daylight hours. But Lydia had eyes everywhere, and she’d figured things out almost immediately. From then on, she’d been swept into Raelynn’s hidden world, holding enough leverage to ensure she wouldn’t—or couldn’t—exit easily. It didn’t hurt that Lydia’s greed for money was unmatched. At this point, the way she looked at Raelynn could only be likened to how a predator eyes its next meal.

“Any other commands, boss?” Lydia asked, her voice syrupy but her intentions obvious.

Completely unfazed, Raelynn replied, “At the month’s end, I need to find a legitimate reason and identity to appear within the Jones family estate.”

The words sobered Lydia. They both knew what was at stake: the Jones family was planning a grand banquet, one where Aria would crown her daughter Wanda the next heir. If Raelynn was even a fraction too slow to act, she could lose everything.

Their conversation ground to a halt when Lydia’s gaze flicked to the bar’s main doors, now open to reveal a woman in the kind of radiant, arresting getup that demanded attention. Lydia’s eyes gleamed with delight. “Oh, look! That’s Selene. Your husband’s latest flame.”

Raelynn stilled. “…What?”

Her subdued reaction wasn’t enough to deter Lydia. “Selene!” she called out cheerily, waving toward the woman. “Mrs. Hart is here!”

The effect was immediate. Selene strode into the room with exaggerated poise, her hands smoothing the voluminous folds of her gown as she smirked haughtily. “Well,” she said, her voice coated in malice. “If it isn’t Mrs. Hart! I was beginning to think you didn’t exist.”

Raelynn’s eyes turned cool. “So, you know Christian’s a married man.”

“I do.” Selene’s grip on her dress tightened for just a moment before she regained her sangfroid. “And?” she quipped, her voice rising petulantly. “He doesn’t love you. Eventually, he’s going to leave you. You don’t belong in that position.”

This struck its mark. Raelynn’s gaze dropped, her silence stoking Selene’s triumph. She’d scoped out Christian’s marriage long before this encounter; everyone said it was little more than a business arrangement forced upon him by Sir Hart. There was no love between them, no bond. Whatever title Raelynn clung to, it meant nothing in the Hart family. Selene felt almost emboldened by pity.

“You know, it’s amazing,” Selene said, pressing the knife deeper. “You’ve got no dignity. Even after knowing about me, you still cling to that title—the pathetic, unloved Mrs. Hart.”

From the side, Lydia, who’d been quietly observing, finally spoke, her voice bracingly sharp. “Let me get this straight—you’re calling someone undignified? You, the rising starlet who ditched her career to knock over other women’s marriages like dominoes? What would your adoring fans think? Trending soundly on social media, I’d wager.”

Selene flushed crimson. “And who are you supposed to be?” she hissed, her tone dripping with derision. “What makes you think you’re even allowed to speak to me?”

Lydia’s pleasant expression iced over. Her hand slid into her clutch, fingers skimming across the arsenal of experimental poisons she carried, just in case. One sprinkle, she thought, and this drama queen’s screeching would be silenced forever.

Raelynn intervened, pulling Lydia behind her to defuse the rising tension. Pivoting back to Selene, her demeanor was as calm and polished as a placid lake under moonlight. “You want to marry Christian?”

Spotting her chance, Selene dropped all pretense of modesty. “I do,” she said, her face softening into a saccharine smile. “Christian’s been wonderful to me. We’ve been together for a while now—”

“And you think I’ll step aside?”

“Obviously. You’re in the way.”

Raelynn let out a soft laugh, amused and scornful all at once. “Even if I were to walk away, do you really think you’d be next in line?”

The words snapped through Selene’s confidence like a whip. “What does that mean?” she demanded.

“It means,” Raelynn said, her tone hardening, “there are many others ahead of you. You? You’re nothing.”

The realization that she’d been played sent Selene over the edge. She swung a hand toward Raelynn’s face, but Raelynn moved faster. Catching her wrist mid-air, she twisted it deftly and slapped Selene hard enough to send her spinning.

Her voice turned razor-sharp. “Don’t mistake my silence for weakness. You’re a shadow, a dirty secret too vulgar for daylight. If I ever see you running your mouth in front of me again, I’ll make sure you can’t speak for a long, long time.”

Tears stung Selene’s eyes as she clutched her cheek, her bravado obliterated. “This isn’t over!” she spat before fleeing the bar in indignation, the tail-end of her dress sweeping behind her.

Lydia clung to Raelynn’s arm, rattling off a string of colorful curses meant for Christian once Selene was out of earshot. After a good twenty minutes, she gave Raelynn a nudge. “Let it go, babe. It’s just a green hat. He’s trash, and we’ve got bigger fish to fry.”

Bigger fish. Christian Hart was Sovereign City’s unstoppable colossus, his power shielding him even from vengeance. For now.

Raelynn felt the growing weight pressing against her chest. She met Lydia’s sympathetic gaze, her own dark eyes flashing cold as frost. “Let’s give him something to choke on.”

Elsewhere, the Hart estate stirred in chaos as Sir Hart’s health took a sudden, drastic turn. Hours of emergency surgery barely kept him tethered to life. When at last the operating room doors opened in the pale light of dawn, Christian moved to greet the weary doctors, only to watch his relatives barrel past him in a wave of feigned concern.

The doctor, clearly exhausted, pushed through the mob with visible distaste. “Has Sir Hart been treated with any kind of traditional medicine recently?” he asked, leveling his question at Christian.