Andrew Wood had always been the kind of man who could walk into any room and instantly know which woman wanted him the most—and which man feared him the most. He didn't just inherit money; he inherited dominance. Presence. But tonight, something tugged at him beyond ego.
There she was.
The girl in green, sitting beside Alina, laughing—God, that laugh. Not the fake kind he was used to hearing. This one was soft and unguarded. He tilted his head slightly, lips twitching in curiosity.
"Who's the girl with Alina?" he asked, still staring.
His bodyguard leaned forward. "Sir, that's Angel. Michael's wife."
Andrew's brows twitched. "Michael who?"
"Michael King."
Andrew leaned back in his seat, stunned for a moment. Of all the people… His mind replayed the times he and Michael had nearly come to blows—rival companies, rival everything. The only thing Andrew hadn't taken from Michael yet… was this woman.
He couldn't help but smirk. "So she's the loyal type?"
The bodyguard said nothing.
Andrew's smirk deepened. "Let's see how long that lasts."
---
Meanwhile, Alina watched him from the corner of her eye, lips curled in satisfaction. Everything was falling into place. Andrew had taken her heart, shattered it, and laughed. Tonight, she would smile through revenge. But her plan had one complication—Angel.
There was something about Angel that made it hard to keep things just… strategic.
"You caught his attention," Alina whispered, nudging Angel with her elbow.
Angel turned, eyes searching. "Who?"
Alina pointed with her eyes. "Ash blue suit. Three bodyguards. That's Andrew Wood."
Angel's eyes widened a little. "The billionaire?"
"Mmhmm. Closet & Cushion Designs. His daddy's empire, but he made a name for himself before inheriting anything."
Angel took a slow sip of champagne. "He's… intense."
Alina chuckled. "He's dangerous. And frankly, overrated."
Angel gave her a side glance. "You don't sound like a fan."
"Oh, I used to be." Alina's tone tightened, just briefly. "Then I grew up."
Angel looked again. "He's staring."
"I know." Alina smiled sweetly. "And he hates not having what he wants."
Angel raised an eyebrow. "And you want to use me to twist the knife?"
Alina paused. Her breath caught. She hadn't expected Angel to be that quick.
"Would it be so terrible?" she whispered.
Angel leaned in, her voice teasing. "As long as you're honest about what game we're playing."
For a second, neither of them spoke.
Then Alina smiled. "Darling, I don't play fair."
Angel laughed, and something electric passed between them—unspoken, undeniable.
And from across the room, Andrew Wood's gaze darkened.
He didn't know who this Angel was, but she had just become his newest obsession.
And Alina? She had no idea she had just awakened two sleeping storms at once—one in Andrew…
…and one in herself.
Just then, Alina leaned back against the velvet chair, her eyes drifting away from the chatter in the room, and deep into the well of memories she had fought so hard to bury.
The kisses—soft and unexpected—especially those early morning ones from behind while she prepped his favorite omelet. The spontaneous date nights where they walked hand in hand, drenched in the rain and unbothered by the world. The teasing moments stuck in traffic where they'd burst into laughter over the silliest things. She remembered how he'd stare at her like she was made of magic.
And oh, the intimacy. Andrew had been attentive—dangerously so. He knew every part of her, touched her like she was a melody he'd memorized. She matched his passion with equal fire, never once thinking the fire would burn her down in the end.
Then came that morning.
She had woken up early, birthday gift in hand, deciding to surprise him. She never knocked—why would she? She was his. At least she thought she was.
And then she heard it.
Andrew's voice in the kitchen. Cocky. Careless. Cold.
> "She's just another fling. Sweet, but predictable. Can't wait to be done with her. There's a new chick in town anyway… Angel, or something."
Alina had frozen, the wrapped box slipping slightly in her hand. She wanted to believe she misheard. But when she confronted him, he didn't even blink.
> "You're not the first to fall for me. Don't act surprised."
That day, something in her shattered. And from those broken pieces, a sharp new version of her was born. A version that smiled at the thought of revenge.
Since the gala night, she and Angel had continued texting. Angel was light, fun, and dangerously easy to like. Being new in town gave Alina every excuse to keep her close—and Angel didn't seem to mind at all.
She was perfect.
And Andrew was watching. She knew he was. He always kept tabs—especially on women he once "owned." That made it all the sweeter.
Her phone buzzed.
> Angel: Are you free?
Alina blinked, surprised. She was on her way to meet a client, but… some things took priority.
> Alina: Yeah, girl.
A second later—
> Angel: You fancy lunch?
Alina grinned.
> Alina: Of course.
> Angel: Text you the location in an hour. Take care.
Alina chuckled to herself. Who would've thought her revenge tool would come with such ease… and unexpectedly feel like a friend?
Oh, if only Andrew knew what was brewing.
But just as she stood, ready to head out, another buzz came through.
Not from Angel.
Not from anyone she recognized.
> Unknown Number: She's not who you think she is. Watch your back, Alina.
Her fingers froze above the screen.
Her smile faltered.
The game had just shifted.