“Oh, Elena, don’t look at me like that.” Lana pressed one hand to her chest like she was auditioning for a daytime soap. “I’m not trying to be the evil stepmother here.”

Elena didn’t blink. “Then stop warming up and get to the point.”

“Fine. The Steele family ran a compatibility check. Your profile is a perfect match for Atticus Steele.”

Elena slowly lifted her eyes.

Atticus Steele.

The dead heir of the Steele family.

At least, that was what everyone believed.

Lana’s smile grew wider, sweet and rotten at the edges. “I know marrying a man who’s already dead sounds... unusual. But think about it. You’d become the widow of the Steele heir. That’s not exactly a tragedy. Plenty of girls would kill for that last name.”

She leaned closer and lowered her voice.

“And the Steele family will invest five million dollars in our company.”

Elena stared at her.

“If being the dead heir’s widow is such a dream, why isn’t your precious Sophie picking out a black wedding dress?”

Lana’s smile twitched.

Elena tilted her head. “Also, since we’re talking about family arrangements, my mother made a marriage agreement for me before she died. With Ace Adams.”

The Adams family was old money in Rhavyn.

And Ace Adams was the man Sophie had been chasing for years.

Lana recovered fast and let out a sharp little laugh.

“Oh, sweetheart. This isn’t the 1800s. A verbal promise means nothing.” Her eyes dragged over Elena’s plain clothes and dusty backpack. “The Adams family is top-tier. Do you honestly think they’d accept some girl who grew up in the middle of nowhere?”

Sophie’s lips curled.

“Wait. You actually think Ace Adams would marry you?” Sophie gave a soft laugh. “Elena, please. That’s embarrassing. Ace wants me. We’re practically engaged.”

People loved calling Elena a country girl.

But even with those thick black glasses hiding half her face, there was nothing cheap about her.

Elena had grown up with nothing.

No stylists. No designer makeup. No two-hour beauty routine.

And still, she looked better bare-faced than Sophie did after a full glam session.

But so what?

Elena was about to marry a dead man.

That thought made Sophie feel much better.

Elena turned to the man standing by the window.

“Mr. Monroe, do you agree with this?”

Richie Monroe took a slow drag from his cigarette. “Elena, this is your chance to repay me for raising you.”

Raising her.

The words hit the rawest place in her chest.

Her mother had died giving birth to her.

Her loving father had dumped her with distant relatives in a no-name town, then come back to Rhavyn, married Lana, had Sophie, and started over like Elena had never existed.

For eighteen years, he had never cared if she was hungry or sick.

Now, for five million dollars, Richie suddenly remembered he had another daughter.

Only because he could sell her to a dead man.

Elena looked at him through her thick glasses. Her fingers tightened around the glass in her hand.

So that was all she was to him.

A price tag.

“Wow,” she said flatly. “Only a real dirtbag can say something that shameless without choking on it.”

Richie’s face turned red.

He pointed at her. “I can’t believe what you’ve become. Ungrateful. Rude. No manners at all. If it weren’t for this marriage with the Steele family, I would’ve already...”

He stopped.

But Elena heard the rest anyway.

She was done.

Done with their fake family talk.

Done with their greed.

“I’ll do it,” Elena cut in. “I’ll marry into the Steele family. You get your investment.”

Richie froze.

Lana’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

“But I have one condition.”

Richie narrowed his eyes. “What condition?”

Elena pulled a folded document from her backpack and tossed it onto the dining table.

“I want my ties with the Monroe family cut. Completely.”

Richie frowned.

Sophie laughed. “Oh no. What a terrifying threat. Are we supposed to cry?”

Lana jumped in smoothly. “Richie, if that’s what Elena wants, let her have it.”

Richie picked up the document and scanned it.

In his eyes, Elena had always been dead weight.

Sophie was the daughter they polished, showed off, and bragged about.

Compared to Sophie, Elena was worth nothing.

And now this “nothing” wanted to remove herself from the family?

Richie almost smiled.

“Fine,” he said.

Before Elena could change her mind, he grabbed a pen and signed.

Then he shoved the papers back to her.

“Let me make this clear,” Richie said. “Once this is signed, you are no longer part of this family. Don’t come crawling back for money. Don’t ask for help. Don’t expect a damn thing from us.”

Elena picked up the document and checked the signature.

Then she smiled.

“Relax,” she said. “Unlike you people, I still have standards.”

She turned and walked out of the Monroe estate.

The second she stepped outside, Elena took off her glasses.

The plain, harmless girl disappeared.

Her eyes were sharp now. Cold. Awake.

Her phone buzzed.

She answered without slowing down.

“Elena,” a young man, amusement clear in his voice. “Did you handle your useless father?”

“Of course.”

“He’s such a clown. Treats Sophie like a princess, sells you for cash, and has no idea you’re worth over a hundred million...”

Elena cut him off. “Not now. I’ve got a job. I’m heading to a cemetery outside town.”

The job was simple.

Meet the contact.

Pick up an item.

Deliver it to the assigned location.

But the payment was top-tier.

Which meant the item was either illegal, priceless, or both.

Maybe tonight wouldn’t be boring after all.

Moonlight washed over the cemetery.

Everything was quiet except for the wind dragging through the trees.

Elena stood behind a thick oak, a black backpack over one shoulder. Old headstones leaned between patches of tall grass. Weeds brushed against her boots.

She checked the time.

“Of course,” she muttered. “Expecting criminals to be punctual was my first mistake.”

Then she heard footsteps ahead.

Light. Controlled. Trained.

Not a random passerby.

Her body reacted before her mind finished the thought.

Years of training kicked in. Her heartbeat slowed. Her breathing turned quiet.

She listened.

Tracked the sound.

Then her eyes opened, hard and alert.

At least five mercenaries.

The handoff hadn’t even happened yet, and someone was already trying to steal the goods.

A setup.

She pressed her back against the tree and scanned the shadows.

Then something cold and hard pressed against her lower back.

A gun.

A low male voice spoke behind her.

“Make a sound and you die.”

He smelled like blood and gunpowder, but his breathing was steady.

Elena did not freeze like a good little hostage.

She spun.

The man wore a black mask. Only his eyes showed.

Sharp. Ruthless. Full of warning.

A heavy pressure hit her at once.

This man had killed before.

“You...” he began.

Elena grabbed the blood-slick gun and frowned. “Killing people costs five times extra. And I don’t do body disposal.”

The man paused. “You kill people?”

He stepped closer.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Badly injured.

Still dangerous enough to make most men rethink their life choices.

“Take care of them,” he said near her ear. “I’ll pay ten times your rate.”

Elena took the gun from his bloody hand and tightened her grip around it.

“Deal.”

Elena didn’t usually take sudden add-on jobs.

Too many variables.

Too many ways to end up dead.

But right now, her life and this stranger’s life were tied together whether she liked it or not.

If he died, those mercenaries would come for her next.

And six million dollars?

That was a decent apology from the universe.

“There!” someone shouted in the dark.

Elena moved first.

Fast. Clean. No wasted steps.

She cut through the shadows, shifted positions, fired, ducked, fired again.

Every shot counted.

Less than five minutes later, six men were down.

The cemetery went quiet again.

Elena lowered the gun and looked at the masked man.

“Six million. Cash, wire, or crypto. Pick one.”

Before he could answer, her phone buzzed.

A message from Finn Carter flashed on the screen.

[Elena, change of plans. The contact isn’t coming tonight.]

Elena stared at the message.

Not coming?

Then this masked guy...

Her eyes turned cold.

She snapped the gun up and pressed the barrel against his chest.

“Who are you?”

He had known she’d mistaken him for the contact.

And he had used her.

Worse, his eyes held a hint of amusement.

“Nice shooting,” he said.

His bleeding hand rose. He gripped the barrel and pulled it closer, dragging her a step toward him with it.

“But you do know a revolver only holds six bullets, right?”

Elena’s jaw tightened.

Of course she knew.

Fine.

Plan B.

Her knee shot up straight toward his groin.

He reacted just as fast.

One hand caught her leg. He stepped in, ripped the black mask from her face, and pinned her in place.

At the same time, a knife touched her throat.

Cold steel pressed against her skin.

One small push, and she’d bleed.

Elena went still.

Damn.

He was strong.

“Cute,” she said. “I save your life, and this is your thank-you card?”

His gaze moved over her face.

Under the moonlight, without the mask, her features looked even sharper. Pale skin. Clear eyes. A face that looked too innocent for the damage she had just done.

His thumb brushed lightly near her lower lip.

“You look harmless,” he said, voice rough. “Then you turn into a walking kill switch. Who’s to blame here?”

Elena narrowed her eyes. “Move your hand, or I break it.”

His mouth curved. “Behave, and maybe I’ll thank you the traditional way.”

“Hard pass.” Elena’s voice stayed calm. “I don’t accept liars as payment.”

The second the blade left her throat, Elena shoved his hand away, stepped back, and walked off into the dark without looking back.

A rush of footsteps crashed into the cemetery.

A group of men in black suits poured through the gates.

Their leader saw the masked man and went pale.

“Mr. Steele,” he said, voice shaking. “I’m sorry. We’re late.”

That was right.

The masked man standing in the cemetery was Atticus Steele.

The dead heir everyone whispered about.

Atticus watched the direction Elena had disappeared.

A slow smile touched his mouth.

“See you around,” he murmured. “Little hellcat.”