The Ruthless Billionaire Claims His Rival's Sister

Chloe sat on the edge of her bed and opened her tablet. The headlines screamed at her from every news outlet, a coordinated media blitz.

Sterling CEO Andrew Sterling to Propose to Starlet Sloane Ashford Today?

A Times Square Fairy Tale: Inside Andrew Sterling's Grand Romantic Gesture.

The articles were filled with "leaked" details, painting a picture of a whirlwind romance culminating in a spectacular public proposal. Chloe's stomach churned as she read how Sloane's team had "artfully" fed information to the press to maximize the hype.

And there, on the screen, was Sloane Ashford's face, smiling demurely. Although this face bore a striking resemblance to that of her late mother, and she should have felt a sense of closeness to it, the mere thought of what this woman had done in a past life made her physically nauseated.

Time was running out. She only had a few hours.

She snatched her phone and dialed the number of her most trusted confidante, her personal assistant, Eva Hayes.

The moment the call connected, Chloe's voice was low and urgent, stripped of its usual lightness. "Eva, I need you to do something for me right now. No matter the cost."

"Chloe?" Eva sounded startled on the other end. She had never heard this tone from her boss before.

"You just have to trust me, Eva," Chloe said, cutting off any potential questions. "Everything, for the Sterling family, depends on this."

She took a breath. "Go to the most exclusive custom pleasure boutique in the city. The one that requires a private appointment. I need you to order something for me."

She paused, letting the weight of her next words sink in. "It needs to be the most expensive, the most outrageous item they have. And most importantly, it needs to have a unique mark on it—the Kensington family crest."

Silence. Eva was so shocked she couldn't even form a word. Pleasure boutique? The Kensington family? It was a combination that made absolutely no sense.

"Don't ask why. Just do it," Chloe commanded, her voice leaving no room for argument. "I need it in my hands within two hours." She hung up before Eva could protest.

With the first step in motion, Chloe began to prepare for her performance. She went to her vanity and applied her makeup with a surgeon's precision-a smoky, smudged eyeliner that hinted at a long, debauched night; a deep, berry-red lipstick that looked both glamorous and slightly messy.

Next, the outfit. She chose a slip dress of emerald green silk. The fabric clung to her body, languid and sensual. It looked like something one would wear after a night of wild passion, not before a family breakfast.

Then, she set the stage. She deliberately mussed the pillows on her bed. She went into her brother's closet, found an old silk dress shirt he no longer wore, and tossed it carelessly at the foot of her bed, a prop to create the illusion of a man who had just left in a hurry.

Chloe sat on the sofa by the window, watching the yellow cabs stream down Fifth Avenue, her heart a calm, steady drumbeat in her chest. She was waiting for her weapon.

She thought of Eva. In her last life, after Andrew's death, the loyal assistant had tried to avenge him, gathering evidence against Sloane. But Sloane had been too powerful by then, and Eva had been framed and sent to prison. This time, Chloe would protect her too.

The doorbell chimed. Eva herself brought the discreet, elegant black box, her face a mask of confusion and worry.

Chloe took the box and opened it.

Inside, nestled on a bed of black velvet, was a delicate, daring body chain made of white gold. And there, on the tiny clasp, was the unmistakable, micro-engraved emblem of the Kensington family: a griffin with its wings unfurled.

"Chloe, what are you doing?" Eva finally whispered, her anxiety palpable. "Involving the Kensingtons is not a joke."

Chloe looked up and gave her assistant a small, reassuring smile. "You'll understand soon, Eva." She closed the box and took a deep breath. "Now, get Andrew on a video call for me."

Though her mind was reeling, Eva did as she was told. A moment later, Andrew's handsome, but distinctly impatient, face appeared on the tablet screen. The background looked like a busy backstage area.

"Chloe? I'm in the middle of something. This had better be important."

Chloe shifted her position on the sofa, letting the silk strap of her nightgown "accidentally" slip from her shoulder. She leaned into the camera, her voice a lazy purr.

"Brother, I just wanted to ask... what's your rival's favorite color for a tie?"

Andrew frowned, completely thrown. "What rival? What the hell are you talking about?"

Instead of answering, Chloe picked up the body chain. She let it dangle from her fingers, the fine gold catching the light as it swayed in front of the camera.

She deliberately zoomed in, letting the lens focus on the tiny, perfect griffin crest. Then she looked back at Andrew, a slow, wicked smile spreading across her lips.

"Oh, nothing," she said sweetly. "It's just that my new toy happens to have the Kensington family crest on it."

On the screen, the annoyance on Andrew's face vanished, replaced in an instant by disbelief, then a wave of dark, gathering fury.

"And I was just wondering," Chloe continued, her voice dripping with poison, "do you think Julian Kensington would prefer to see me wearing it... or to take it off me himself?"

The air crackled. Andrew's breathing became heavy, his eyes boring into her through the screen, as if he wanted to reach through and strangle the imaginary man she spoke of.

Chloe knew her first move had been a success. Andrew's focus was no longer on Sloane Ashford.

It was entirely on her. And his nemesis.