Flashback, Elsewhere…
High above the city, in a private office veiled behind tinted glass, a man stood unmoving.
Lucas's eyes were fixed on the skyline, sharp and unreadable. The hospital where she had been declared clinically dead—before she rose again—stood in the distance like a monument to his failure.
In his hand, he held a worn photograph. A girl with a soft, sorrowful smile. Her eyes stared back at him, not accusing, but remembering.
Amy Lin.
Or rather, Veronica Lin, as she called herself now.
He knew.
He had known the moment he saw her open her eyes in that hospital bed. Those weren't Amy's eyes—not the naïve, fragile heiress everyone thought they knew. Those were the eyes of someone who had already died once. Someone who had seen war. Buried love. Killed, and been killed.
Lucas had seen those eyes before.
In the mirror.
"I failed you once," he murmured, voice low and rough.
His fingers curled around the photograph until it crumpled in his grip.
"But this time… no one will touch you. Not without going through me first."
A buzz interrupted his silence.
Incoming alert: AMY LIN – Location: Elite Private High School Campus.
Lucas's eyes narrowed.
Time to move.
Back at the Lin Family Mansion…
It took every ounce of Veronica's self-control not to roll her eyes as she adjusted the pink ribbon on her uniform blazer.
The elite school she was about to enter prided itself on "tradition" and "character," which translated into pastel uniforms, gendered rules, and an unbearable obsession with pedigree.
Veronica stood in front of the floor-length mirror in her walk-in closet, taking one last look at her reflection.
Long hair braided. Skirt neat. Eyes wide with mock innocence.
She was a porcelain doll in disguise.
But beneath that polished surface?
Steel.
"I look like a damn cupcake," she muttered under her breath.
Her sister, Liliana, leaned against the doorway with a soft laugh. "You look adorable. The boys won't know what hit them."
Veronica's lips curled. "They never do."
Liliana blinked, surprised by the ice beneath her sister's words—but chalked it up to nerves. After all, Amy had almost died last week. Anyone would be on edge.
Veronica turned away from the mirror.
Time to act the part.
---
At Elite Private High School…
It was too easy to spot the snakes.
They always traveled in groups, dressed in designer knockoffs and dripping with fake sincerity.
As Veronica walked down the marble hallway toward her first class, whispers followed like perfume trails.
"Is that… Amy Lin?"
"No way, wasn't she in a coma?"
"She looks… different."
"She's prettier now. Is that plastic surgery or resurrection glow?"
"She's still the illegitimate one, right?"
Veronica kept her gaze ahead, spine straight, every step perfectly measured.
But her ears caught everything.
Names. Faces. Insults.
Pathetic.
In her past life, she had walked through gunfire. Negotiated hostage trades. Tortured spies.
High school gossip? Please.
Still, it would be useful to know which rats barked the loudest. Let them bark. She'd decide later which ones got leashes and which ones got muzzles.
She turned a corner and stopped.
Standing in front of her locker was a girl in flaming red curls, fake nails like claws, and a smug smile.
Chloe Yuan.
The original Amy's former best friend.
The one who helped her husband poison her.
Veronica's eyes narrowed ever so slightly.
"Amesss!" Chloe sang, dragging out the name like a joke. "Oh my gosh, you're finally back! I was just telling everyone how brave you were, surviving that freak 'food poisoning' or whatever. You poor thing!"
Veronica smiled.
The kind of smile that used to precede executions.
"Chloe," she said sweetly. "I'm so glad to see you. Still clinging to other people's lockers, I see."
The smile froze on Chloe's face.
"What?"
"Oh, nothing," Veronica said with a shrug. "Just didn't expect you to be this… unchanged. You look exactly like the last time I saw you—hovering next to someone else's spotlight."
Gasps rippled around them.
Chloe's face reddened. "Are you saying I'm using you?"
Veronica tilted her head, expression innocent.
"Oh no. I wouldn't say that out loud. It's just that… if the shoe fits, I'd hate to deny you the chance to wear it."
Chloe sputtered.
"Maybe next time, don't greet someone who almost died like a tabloid reporter," Veronica added with a wink.
Then she turned and walked away, the crowd parting before her like the sea.
For a moment, there was silence.
And then—
"Damn," someone whispered. "Amy Lin's different now."
---
Meanwhile… from the rooftop of the East Wing…
Lucas watched it all unfold through high-powered lenses.
She was quick.
Sharper than she'd ever been in the past. Her footwork, her reflexes, the way she sized up Chloe's attack—verbal or otherwise—it wasn't just instinct. It was training.
She wasn't pretending.
She wasn't the Amy Lin they all thought she was.
Lucas's jaw tensed.
So she had come back as someone new.
He lowered the scope and tapped his earpiece. "Maintain patrol rotation. She'll draw attention today. Be ready."
"Copy that," came a voice from the other end. "How should we treat the girl?"
Lucas's eyes never left her.
"Like a queen."
---
Lunch Break: Garden Courtyard
Veronica picked at the overly buttered pasta on her tray. She wasn't here to eat. She was here to observe.
Around her, students laughed, gossiped, and flirted in carefully controlled chaos.
She'd already memorized the power structure of the student council. The funding line behind the top clubs. The scholarship records of the top students. In less than an hour, she had profiled her classmates better than their parents had.
But what truly caught her attention was the boy staring at her from across the garden.
Not with lust. Or curiosity.
But suspicion.
A transfer student, if she remembered correctly. Quiet. Always alone.
He watched her like he knew something.
She narrowed her eyes.
And then he suddenly looked away.
Interesting.
She stood up, ready to test that theory—
And immediately noticed the shift in the air.
A subtle presence.
Someone was behind her.
She didn't hear him approach.
Didn't feel him approach.
Which meant he was trained.
She turned slowly and saw him.
Lucas.
Black suit. No tie. Cold, unreadable expression. Standing behind the marble pillar like a shadow that had chosen to wear skin.
"Amy," he said with a slight bow. "Mr. Lin sent me to escort you home."
Her heart skipped.
Not because she was caught off-guard.
But because this man—man-this stranger who somehow knew how to breathe without making a sound—was watching her.
Veronica gave him a long, cool once-over.
Something in her gut whispered: Dangerous.
But something deeper whispered: Familiar.
She smiled.
"I can walk just fine. Tell my father his little porcelain doll is still in one piece."
Lucas's eyes flicked, just briefly, to the scar behind her ear—one no one else had noticed.
Then he stepped aside. "Of course, Miss Lin."
She brushed past him, her shoulder grazing his sleeve.
He didn't move.
But he did watch her.
The whole way back.
---
Later That Night…
Veronica stood in her private training room—yes, she'd had one reinstalled under the guise of "physio rehab."
She struck the wooden post, fast and precise.
One blow.
Then two.
Then a flurry.
Her fists bled. She didn't stop.
Lucas was watching.
She knew he was. Even if he never showed himself.
Good.
Let him watch.
Let him wonder.
Because Veronica Lin was no longer hiding.
She was building her battlefield.
And soon, the war would begin