Reborn Heiress: Marrying The Ruthless Billionaire

"Keep it smooth," Annalise said, her eyes locked on the mirror. The maid knelt at her feet, carefully adjusting the hem of the crimson gown. The silk clung to every curve, the color a stark contrast to her pale skin. Annalise stared at her reflection. The woman in the mirror looked dangerous. The soft, approachable girl from her past life was gone, replaced by someone with sharp cheekbones and a sharper gaze. She remembered the last time she wore a dress for this party. It had been a pale pink, and she had spent the whole night trailing after Greggory like a lost puppy, hanging on his every word. The memory made her sick. A soft sound broke her focus. A rustle of paper, sliding across the floor. Annalise's eyes dropped to the gap under the door. A thick manila envelope had been pushed through, landing silently on the carpet. The maid stood up, frowning. "I'll get it, Miss Knowles." "No." Annalise's voice was sharper than she intended. Her heart gave a sudden, violent thump against her ribs. She crossed the room in three strides and snatched the envelope off the floor. There was no return address. Just her name, printed in a stark, unfamiliar handwriting. She ripped the seal open. Her fingers closed around a glossy rectangle, and she pulled it out. The air vanished from her lungs. It was a photograph. High resolution, perfectly lit. Greggory and Alta were pressed together in a dark corner, their bodies flush against each other. Alta's arm was wrapped around his neck, her fingers playing with the hair at his nape. Greggory's face was buried in her shoulder, but the expression on Alta's face was unmistakable-triumph and raw lust. Annalise's fingers trembled. But it wasn't grief. It wasn't shock. It was pure, electric excitement. In her last life, she had walked into that party blind. She had died without ever seeing the knife coming. But now, the evidence was sitting right in her palm. The universe was handing her the ammunition on a silver platter. She flipped the photo over. Blank. No note, no explanation. She turned and yanked the door open, stepping out into the hallway. The long corridor was empty, the antique lamps casting warm pools of light on the carpet. At the far end, near the service stairs, a figure in a black suit-indistinguishable from the event security staff-slipped through the door. It was just a flash of a back, gone in a second. Annalise didn't chase. It didn't matter who sent it. A sympathetic guest, a rival, or maybe the universe itself. It was a tool, and she was going to use it. She stepped back into the room and closed the door. She walked to the vanity, pulling open the bottom drawer. She placed the photo inside, sliding it under her passport. She couldn't just wave it around. That would be too easy. It would give them a chance to spin a lie, to explain it away. She needed to destroy them in a way they could never recover from. She needed a public execution. The maid held up a velvet box. "The diamonds, Miss Knowles?" Annalise looked at the simple diamond tennis necklace, then shook her head. She pointed to the heavy, ornate box at the back of the table. "The rubies." The maid hesitated. The ruby necklace was aggressive. It was loud. It was exactly what Annalise wanted. She fastened the clasp around her neck. The heavy stones rested against her collarbone, the deep red matching her dress. Tonight, every eye in the room would be on her. She would be the only predator in the room. The distant sound of a string quartet drifted up from the floor below. The party had started. A sharp knock came at the door. "Miss Knowles?" Eddy's voice was muffled. "It's time." Annalise took a deep breath, pushing the boiling rage down into the pit of her stomach. She let it harden into ice. Her gaze swept across the desk, landing on a miniature voice recorder she used for her university lectures. A thought struck her-words could be denied, but sounds could not. She grabbed the small, metallic device, slipping it into the hidden pocket of her dress. The cold metal against her skin gave her a sliver of extra courage. She pulled open the door. Eddy stood there, his suit perfectly pressed, his face impassive. She gave him a smile that didn't reach her eyes. It was a confident, sharp thing. Eddy blinked, momentarily thrown off balance. He had never seen her look like that-like she was about to go to war. "I'm ready," she said. She walked past him, her heels clicking on the hardwood. The music grew louder with every step. She paused at the top of the grand staircase, looking down at the glittering crowd below. Her gaze landed on the towering champagne fountain in the center of the room. A wicked idea began to form in her mind, taking shape around the image of shattering glass and flowing liquid. She lifted her chin and placed her hand on the railing, stepping out into the light.