Emma's POV
The black car pulls up to the curb.
It's sleek. Expensive. Completely out of place on my street where most people drive ten-year-old sedans. The windows are tinted so dark I can't see inside.
My phone buzzes. Text from the unknown number: "The car is here. Get in."
I stare at the vehicle. My suitcase feels heavy in my hand. The garment bag with my wedding dress hangs over my shoulder.
This is insane. I'm about to get into a stranger's car based on two phone calls and a Google search.
But what choice do I have?
Behind me is the apartment I can't afford. Ahead is a family that hates me. And tomorrow is a wedding where my stepsister wears my dress to marry my fiancé.
I open the car door.
The interior smells like leather and money. A driver sits in front wearing a professional suit. He doesn't turn around or speak. Just starts driving the moment I close the door.
"Where are we going?" I ask.
"Mr. Cross will explain everything." His voice is neutral. Professional.
We drive through the city. My neighborhood disappears behind us—the cheap restaurants, the laundromat I use every week, the convenience store where I buy groceries. Everything familiar fades away.
My phone buzzes constantly. Text after text after text.
Victoria: "Emma, please don't be mad. I never wanted to hurt you. I'm just so scared of dying alone."
Alexander: "You're being unreasonable. Call me back so we can talk about this like adults."
Dad: "Your behavior tonight was unacceptable. You owe Patricia and Victoria an apology."
Patricia: "Emma, sweetie, I know you're upset. But running away won't solve anything. Come home and we'll talk."
Home. They keep saying home like I still have one.
I turn off my phone. Can't deal with their lies anymore.
The car drives for thirty minutes. We leave the city completely and head toward the suburbs. The houses get bigger. Nicer. These are the neighborhoods where rich people live.
Finally, we pull up to a gate. The driver punches in a code and it swings open.
My breath catches.
The house beyond the gate isn't a house. It's a mansion. Three stories of glass and white stone. Lights glow from inside. There's a fountain in the circular driveway.
"This can't be right," I whisper.
"Mr. Cross is waiting for you inside." The driver parks and opens my door.
I grab my suitcase and wedding dress. Stand on the driveway staring up at this impossible house.
The front door opens.
A woman walks out. She's older—maybe sixty—with kind eyes and silver hair pulled back in a bun. She wears jeans and a soft sweater. Not what I expected from someone living in a mansion.
"Emma?" Her voice is gentle. "I'm Eleanor Cross. Damien's mother. Come inside, dear. You look exhausted."
I follow her through the massive front door. The inside is even more incredible than the outside. High ceilings. Modern furniture. Art on the walls that probably costs more than my yearly salary.
But Eleanor doesn't give me time to stare. She leads me to a living room where a man stands by the window, looking out at the city lights below.
He turns around.
Damien Cross looks exactly like his photos online. Dark hair. Sharp jaw. Expensive suit. But his eyes are what catch me. They're dark and intense, like he sees everything about you in one glance.
"Emma." He says my name like he already knows me. "Thank you for coming."
"I didn't really have a choice." My voice sounds smaller than I want.
"There's always a choice. You chose to trust a stranger instead of going back to people who've proven they can't be trusted. That shows good judgment."
Eleanor touches my shoulder gently. "Let me take your things to your room. You two need to talk."
"My room?" I blink. "I'm not staying here—"
"Where else will you go?" Damien asks simply. "Your apartment isn't yours anymore. Your family house isn't an option. Do you have enough money for a hotel?"
I check my phone banking app. $847 in my account.
"I can find something cheap—"
"You could." Damien walks closer. "Or you could stay here for free. Make a real plan instead of a desperate one."
"Why would you let me stay here? You don't know me."
"But I know them. I know the Kanes. I know what they're capable of." Something dark flashes across Damien's face. "And I want to help you make them pay for what they did."
"You keep saying that. But you won't tell me why."
Damien is quiet for a moment. Then he speaks, and his voice is colder than before.
"Ten years ago, my father was a successful businessman. He partnered with James Kane—Alexander's father—on a major tech deal. They were supposed to split the profits fifty-fifty."
I listen, not interrupting.
"James Kane stole everything. The patents, the profits, the credit. He used legal loopholes to push my father out completely. My father tried to fight back, but the Kanes have money and lawyers. My father had nothing."
Damien's jaw tightens.
"Three months later, my father killed himself. He left a note saying he couldn't live with the shame of being destroyed by someone he trusted."
My heart breaks for him. "I'm so sorry."
"Don't be sorry. Be angry." Damien's eyes meet mine. "The Kanes destroyed my father. Now Alexander Kane destroyed you. We both have reasons to want revenge."
"So that's what this is? You want to use me to hurt them?"
"I want to help you hurt them." Damien corrects. "There's a difference. Emma, you have two paths right now. Give up and let them win. Or fight back and take everything from them the way they took everything from you."
Part of me knows this is wrong. Revenge is wrong. Mom always taught me to be the bigger person. To forgive.
But Mom also taught me to stand up for myself. To never let anyone walk over me.
"What exactly are you offering?" I ask.
"Everything you need to rebuild. A place to stay. Money to start your own business. Connections to powerful people. Training on how to move in their world as an equal instead of as someone they look down on."
"And what do you get?"
"The satisfaction of watching the Kanes realize they destroyed themselves when they betrayed you." Damien smiles, but it's not a kind smile. "And maybe some business advantages when their reputation falls apart."
"This sounds too good to be true."
"It's not. It's business. A mutually beneficial arrangement." Damien extends his hand. "Do we have a deal?"
I stare at his hand.
If I shake it, everything changes. No going back.
But going back to what? Alexander is marrying Victoria tomorrow. My family is stealing my inheritance. I have nothing to go back to.
My phone buzzes. I check it instinctively.
Victoria posted on Instagram. A photo of my wedding dress hanging in her bedroom. The caption reads: "Tomorrow I become Mrs. Kane! Dreams really do come true! "
One hundred thirty-seven likes already.
Comments flood in:
"You're going to be such a beautiful bride!"
"Alexander is so lucky!"
"True love always wins!"
True love. She's calling this true love.
I look back at Damien's extended hand.
Then I shake it.
"Deal."
Damien's smile widens. "Good. Eleanor will show you to your room. Get some sleep. Tomorrow we start building the new you."
"Tomorrow is the wedding."
"I know." Damien's eyes glitter with something dangerous. "Which is why tomorrow is the perfect day to begin."
Eleanor appears and gently guides me toward the stairs. "Come on, dear. Your room is ready. There's a bathroom attached and fresh clothes in the closet that should fit you."
I follow her up the curved staircase, my mind spinning.
Eleanor opens a door to a bedroom that's bigger than my entire apartment. There's a huge bed, a sitting area, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city.
"This is too much," I whisper.
"It's exactly what you deserve." Eleanor squeezes my hand. "Emma, I know you're scared. I know this feels overwhelming. But you're safe here. I promise."
She leaves me alone in the beautiful room.
I set my suitcase down and hang my wedding dress in the closet. Then I walk to the window and stare out at the city lights.
Somewhere down there, Victoria is sleeping in her bedroom, dreaming about tomorrow. About wearing my dress. About marrying my fiancé.
Somewhere down there, Alexander is probably asleep too. Not thinking about me. Not caring that he destroyed six years in one night.
And somewhere down there, my father and Patricia are probably celebrating. Celebrating getting rid of me and taking my money.
I pull out my phone and turn it back on.
Fifty-three messages. All from them. Begging, threatening, manipulating.
I delete every single one without reading them.
Then I open Instagram one more time. Victoria's post stares back at me. Her in the background, my dress in focus.
My finger hovers over the comment section.
I could write something. Could expose her lies. Could tell everyone the truth.
But what's the point? They wouldn't believe me anyway. I'd look like the bitter ex-fiancée who can't let go.
Instead, I screenshot the post. Save it.
Evidence. For later.
Then I block Victoria. Block Alexander. Block everyone connected to my old life.
I'm about to put my phone away when it buzzes one more time.
Unknown number. Different from Damien's.
The message makes my blood run cold:
"Congratulations on your new arrangement with Damien Cross. But Emma, you should know something about the man you just made a deal with. He's not who he says he is. And his real plan for you is far worse than anything your family did. You're not his partner. You're his revenge weapon. And when he's done using you to destroy the Kanes, he'll destroy you too. A friend."
I stare at the message, my hands shaking.
Who sent this? How do they know about Damien?
And more importantly—are they telling the truth?
I look at the door. Should I go downstairs and confront Damien? Demand answers?
But what if the message is a lie? What if it's from Patricia or Dad, trying to scare me back to them?
I don't know who to trust anymore.
I curl up on the huge bed, still holding my phone, staring at the anonymous warning.
Outside, thunder rumbles. Rain starts pattering against the windows.
And somewhere in this mansion, Damien Cross is planning something.
Something he hasn't told me yet.
Something that might destroy me more than my family ever could.