Three years.
Three years of watching my father’s name being dragged through the mud.
Three years of watching our mansion disappear, our businesses collapse, and the people who destroyed us continue living as if nothing had happened.
And three years of waiting for the perfect moment to make them pay.
Tonight, that moment had finally arrived.
I stood in front of the enormous mirror in my bedroom, staring at the woman reflected in it.
She looked nothing like the broken girl who had watched her father being taken away in handcuffs three years ago.
My dark hair fell in soft waves over my shoulders. My black dress hugged my body, elegant enough for a billionaire's party but daring enough to make people look twice.
I picked up my diamond earrings and put them on.
Then I looked at the photograph sitting on my dressing table.
My father.
His smile was warm.
His eyes were kind.
Before the Blackwoods destroyed him.
I picked up the photograph and ran my fingers over the glass.
"I haven't forgotten you, Dad."
My voice was barely a whisper.
"I never will."
I put the photograph down and reached for my phone.
One name filled the screen.
Damian Blackwood.
Twenty-nine.
Billionaire.
CEO of Blackwood Enterprises.
Cold. Ruthless. Untouchable.
And the eldest son of the family responsible for my father's downfall.
I had spent months studying him.
His habits.
His favorite restaurants.
The events he attended.
The people he trusted.
The women he dated.
He never stayed with anyone for long.
He didn't believe in love.
He didn't trust easily.
And according to every article I'd read about him, Damian Blackwood had one weakness.
He liked women who weren't afraid of him.
Tonight, I would become exactly that woman.
My phone buzzed.
Liam: He's here.
My heart stopped for half a second.
Then it started pounding.
Damian had arrived.
I slipped my phone into my purse and took one last look at myself.
This wasn't a date.
It wasn't a party.
It wasn't even an accident.
It was the beginning of a war.
And Damian Blackwood was about to become my weapon.
---
The Blackwood Foundation's annual charity gala was everything I expected it to be.
Crystal chandeliers.
Expensive champagne.
Designer dresses.
Men in perfectly tailored suits.
Everyone smiled.
Everyone pretended to be happy.
And everyone was lying.
I stepped into the ballroom and immediately felt dozens of eyes turn toward me.
Good.
I wanted them to notice me.
But I wasn't interested in them.
My eyes searched the room.
Then I saw him.
Damian Blackwood.
He stood near the massive windows overlooking Manhattan, a glass of whiskey in his hand.
He was taller than I expected.
Black suit.
White shirt.
No tie.
His dark hair was slightly tousled, as though he'd run his fingers through it one too many times.
But it was his expression that caught me.
Cold.
Unreadable.
Dangerous.
He wasn't smiling.
He wasn't talking.
He was simply watching the room as if everyone inside it bored him.
My stomach tightened.
So this was Damian.
The man I'd spent three years hating.
For one dangerous second, I forgot why I was there.
Then I remembered my father's face.
My hatred returned.
I took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and walked toward him.
One step.
Two.
Three.
When I was only a few feet away, Damian's eyes suddenly met mine.
And everything around me seemed to disappear.
His gaze moved slowly over my face before settling on my eyes.
There was something unsettling about it.
Something that made my pulse race.
I forced myself to smile.
"Mr. Blackwood."
His eyebrow lifted.
"Do I know you?"
His voice was deep.
Calm.
I hated how much I liked the sound of it.
"No," I replied.
"Then why are you talking to me?"
I smiled again.
"Maybe I wanted to."
He studied me for several seconds.
Most men would have flirted.
Damian didn't.
Instead, he took a slow sip of his whiskey.
"You're either very confident..."
He stepped closer.
"...or very stupid."
My heart pounded.
I held his gaze.
"Maybe I'm both."
For the first time that night, the corner of his mouth lifted.
Barely.
But I saw it.
And I knew I'd caught his attention.
Exactly as planned.
---
An hour later, I was sitting beside Damian at a private table overlooking the ballroom.
He had asked me to stay.
I had pretended to be surprised.
Inside, I was celebrating.
Everything was going perfectly.
"So," Damian said, turning his glass slowly between his fingers. "Tell me something about yourself."
I smiled.
"What would you like to know?"
"The truth."
My smile almost disappeared.
The truth.
If only he knew.
"My name is Emily Carter."
His expression changed.
Only slightly.
But I noticed.
"Carter?"
I nodded.
"My father was Daniel Carter."
Silence.
Damian's eyes sharpened.
"Was?"
I swallowed.
"He died two years ago."
It was a lie.
My father wasn't dead.
He was alive.
But Damian didn't need to know that.
He leaned back.
"I'm sorry."
I lowered my eyes.
"Thank you."
He studied me.
For a moment, I wondered if he'd recognized the name.
Then he asked, "What do you do?"
"I work in finance."
Another lie.
I had spent the last three years preparing for this moment, not building a career.
But Damian didn't need to know that either.
He nodded.
"You don't seem like a finance girl."
I looked at him.
"And what do I seem like?"
His gaze dropped briefly to my lips.
Then returned to my eyes.
"Trouble."
My heart skipped.
I laughed softly.
"Maybe I am."
His phone suddenly rang.
He looked at the screen.
His expression hardened.
"I need to take this."
He stood.
I watched him walk away.
My fingers tightened around my glass.
I had done it.
I had gotten inside his world.
Now all I needed to do was make him fall in love with me.
Then I would destroy him.
Just like his family had destroyed mine.
But as Damian disappeared through the ballroom doors, I noticed someone watching me.
A woman.
Elegant.
Beautiful.
And terrifyingly familiar.
My blood ran cold.
Because I knew her.
Victoria Blackwood.
Damian's mother.
The woman who had testified against my father.
The woman who had helped destroy my family.
And she was walking straight toward me.
"Emily Carter."
My heart stopped.
She smiled.
But there was nothing warm about it.
"I've been waiting a very long time to meet you."
I couldn't breathe.
She knew my name.
She knew who I was.
And suddenly, I realized something terrifying.
Maybe I wasn't the only one who had planned this night.