The Ruthless Billionaire Claims His Rival's Sister

"What if I slept with Julian Kensington—my brother's sworn enemy?"

Chloe Sterling asked the question to her own reflection, her voice a whisper in the cold morning air.

She said it lightly, as if asking what dress to wear,but there was something tightened in her voice, like a string pulled to its breaking point.

The face in the mirror didn't answer.

It just stared back at her,a twenty-two-year-old ghost with eyes that had already seen too much. There was no fear in those eyes. Only a stillness, like ice over deep water.

"Julian Kensington."

She repeated the name . Andrew's business rival. Before, whenever he heard this name, Andrew's fists would tense almost to the point of shattering.

If Andrew believed that his sister was about to sleep with his sworn enemy, he would come to stop her without hesitation.

He would rush home immediately, the proposal would be postponed, and he wouldn't have to suffer that devastating humiliation.

This time, the one left alone in Times Square to face public mockery would be Sloane Ashford.

It was the only option she had. She wasn't sure it would work.But it was the only weapon in her hands. Sharper than screaming.

Time goes back to an hour ago.

Chloe shot up in bed. Her body was drenched in sweat, the silk of her nightgown cold and clammy against her skin.

She was dead. She remembered the fall, the wind, the pavement rushing up to meet her. And the figure above—Sloane Ashford, standing at the edge of the roof, watching her plummet, with a smile on her face.

"You should have walked away while you still could."

Chloe's hands flew over her body—collarbone, arms, ribs—all smooth, unbroken. No wounds. No bruises. No fractures. She was alive.

A vibration buzzed from the bedside table. Her private cell phone.

She lunged for it, snatching it up. The date on the screen made her pupils shrink to pinpricks.

Two years ago.

It was the day her brother, Andrew, was going to propose to Sloane Ashford.

Andrew.

Her brother. He was going to propose to Sloane. And then she would destroy him—disowned, the company gutted, their father's legacy turned to ash. Then prison. Then death. Alone. Disgraced.

And then Chloe herself. The roof. The hands shoving her from behind. The sickening lurch of weightlessness.

Sloane, standing at the edge, watching her fall, with that smile on her face.

Chloe sat there, her fists clenched so tight her nails bit into her palms, using the pain to remind herself she was alive.

She had come back to a time when nothing had happened yet, when every tragedy could still be averted.

A soft knock sounded at her bedroom door. The gentle, familiar voice of their housekeeper, Mrs. Gable, followed.

"Miss Chloe, breakfast is ready. Are you going to pick out a dress for Mr. Andrew's engagement party today?"

The word "engagement" was a key turning a lock in her mind.

Because at this engagement party, Andrew disowned and broken for that woman.

The company, their father's legacy, collapsing under the weight of scandal and debt. Her brother, dying alone and disgraced in a prison cell.

She was silent for a moment, not responding to the sound outside for a long time.

"Miss? Are you alright?" Mrs. Gable's voice was laced with concern from behind the door.

Chloe took a deep. "I'm fine, Mrs. Gable," she called out, her voice a hoarse whisper. "Just a bad dream."

She lifted her head.A new light was kindling in their depths, something hard and sharp, forged in the fires of a hell she had already walked through.

She had nothing left to fear.

She remembered this day perfectly. This afternoon, Andrew would hijack the massive screens in Times Square for a proposal that would dominate the city's news cycle.

Last time, she had screamed at him, called him a fool. He had dismissed her as a "spoiled, vicious sister," his words a slap she remembered even now. He hadn't listened. He had walked straight into the abyss.

No. Not this time.

A direct confrontation would only push him further toward Sloane. She needed a better way.

She stood up, her gaze sweeping the room, searching, hunting for a weapon. She needed to get to Andrew first, to confirm his location, his status.

Her fingers found his contact on her phone, hovering over the call button. The memory of his last, desperate phone call from prison echoed in her ears.

She snatched her hand back, dropping the phone on the bed. Calling him now to accuse him would be useless. It would only put Sloane on alert.

She needed something more clever. More destructive. Something that would rip Andrew away from Sloane's side immediately.

Her mind raced, sifting through memories. What did her brother care about most? Besides that woman, what was his greatest weakness?

Her. His sister. And the Sterling family name.

A wild, dangerous idea began to form, a spark in the darkness of her mind. What if she created a scandal of her own? A scandal so big, so threatening to the family's reputation, that he would have no choice but to drop everything?

And who better to be the male lead in this scandal than Andrew's business arch-nemesis? The one man whose name alone made Andrew's jaw clench.

Julian Kensington.

A cold, sharp smile touched Chloe's lips.

I'm sorry, brother. To save you, I'll do whatever it takes.