Tears, Lies, and a Heart of Fire Free Preview

The dim yellow light mixed with the smell of burning incense, thickening the air with tension.

Wearing nothing but a sheer nightgown, Natalie Summers found herself pinned against the door, Jensen Luke's hand wrapped around her throat.

"Natalie," he murmured, voice low and dark, "you're mine tonight."

He leaned in.

At 6'2", Jensen towered over her, making her look even smaller, even softer beneath him.

Before she could say a word, his mouth crashed into hers, stealing her breath.

Natalie tipped her face up and met the heat in his eyes. His Adam's apple dipped just inches from her lips, and every exhale brushing her skin made her flush and tremble.

It was their fifth anniversary. Overflowing with love, she kissed him back—hard.

Fabric tore. Their breaths tangled. The tension snapped tighter and tighter.

Just as they were about to become one, Jensen's phone rang.

His frustration was immediate, but he still answered.

Panting softly, Natalie glanced at the caller ID: Felix—Jensen's best friend.

"Jensen, have you completely lost it? You—”

"Switching to Fracian. Now's really not the time."

Jensen slipped into another language instantly.

There was a beat of silence, then Felix's voice came through in fluent foreign speech:

"You actually married Sharon? What the hell were you thinking? Five years ago, you almost died street racing to save her. She ditched you, remember? Ran overseas with another man! She's had boyfriend after boyfriend since—she never gave a damn about you! And now you went and married her?"

Natalie froze.

Even in another language, every word slid perfectly into meaning. Her mind translated it automatically.

Her eyes flew open.

Heat still clung to her skin, but her heart dropped straight into ice.

Jensen didn't notice. His tone stayed maddeningly calm.

"Sharon has cancer. She doesn't have long. Her last wish was to marry me—to end our first love story properly. She said the person she owes most in her life is me. I can't let her die with regret."

"And Natalie?" Felix shot back. "After your crash, she never left your side. She cared for you every day, gave you everything she had. And now you want her to find out she's the other woman? How the hell is she supposed to live with that?"

Felix's fury didn't shake him.

"She won't find out," Jensen said coldly. "As long as everyone keeps quiet, she'll never know. When Sharon's gone, I'll marry Natalie."

Felix's next question cut him clean.

"And you seriously believe Sharon has cancer?"

That snapped Jensen.

"That's enough. I know what I'm doing."

He hung up.

Jensen turned back to her, ready to pick up right where they'd left off—but Natalie pushed him away.

"I… I don't feel well."

Her arms wrapped around her waist, her body trembling, her face pale as chalk.

Jensen, of course, had no idea she'd spent the last six months secretly mastering three foreign languages—one of them Fracian. She'd never had a reason to use it.

Not until he shattered her heart with it tonight.

It was their fifth anniversary.

Seeing her like that, Jensen's expression softened with real concern.

"What's wrong? Do you want me to take you to the hospital?"

The worry in his voice didn't sound fake, and that made her heart twist even more painfully.

How could he care so much… while secretly married to someone else?

She was about to refuse him when his phone dinged with a WhatsApp notification.

He glanced down. "Something's come up at the office. I need to handle it right away. Try to rest. If you still feel sick, call me—I'll have someone take you to the hospital."

Natalie barely had time to nod before he grabbed his clothes and headed out the door.

She watched him leave.

Only after he disappeared down the hallway did her tears finally fall.

She had seen the message.

It was from Sharon.

"Jensen, I'm in pain. Please come."

Natalie's fists clenched so hard her nails dug into her palms.

Her chest felt like someone had carved a hole straight through it.

Tears blurred her vision as memories she thought she'd buried long ago began clawing their way back.

She had been switched at birth and raised by the Summers family in luxury until she was eighteen—when they finally found the real Summers daughter, Sharon, and brought her home.

That's when Natalie's life became a nightmare.

Sharon hated her—blamed her for "stealing" eighteen years of love. She demanded Natalie be locked in a dark, airless basement.

That damp floor and moldy corner became her whole world.

Sharon would come down with a sick smile, whipping her with vicious joy. Every lash was punishment for the "crime" of being loved.

And her adoptive parents—who should've protected her—turned a blind eye just to please their real daughter.

Night after night, Natalie curled up in the corner, trembling with pain and swallowing her sobs because crying only made Sharon hit harder.

A year later, she finally caught a small opening, slipped past a careless guard, and escaped the basement on shaking legs.

She didn't make it far.

Bruised, bloody, half-conscious, she collapsed right at the feet of a visiting guest—

Jensen.

He had looked like a ray of light piercing through her darkness.

He took her away. He saved her.

He promised to protect her, to be her family now.

He knew what she'd suffered. That's why he shielded her from the Summers family and never let her see them again.

And over the years, she fell in love with him—deeper than she ever intended.

Then one day, Jensen suddenly insisted on joining a street race. No one could talk him out of it.

By the time Natalie learned, he'd already crashed—critically injured and in a coma. Doctors said he might never wake up.

The Luke family was powerful; losing Jensen wouldn't destroy them.

But Natalie had no one else.

Only him.

She devoted everything she had to saving him—day and night care, searching for miracle doctors.

Eventually, she found one—an elusive healer rumored to work actual miracles.

But his price was steep.

Brutally steep.

Natalie gave up something unimaginably precious to save Jensen's life.

He survived.

Less than a year later, Jensen took complete control of Luke Corp and became its CEO.

And he told her he'd marry her on their fifth anniversary.

Yet on the very day he promised to propose—

He married Sharon instead.

Natalie had never once imagined leaving him.

But now that she knew the truth, she would never be the other woman.

Especially not to Sharon.

Wiping her tears, Natalie pulled out her phone and dialed a number.

"I accept Grant International Holdings' training offer in Murica. I'm leaving Jensen. For good."

"That's great news, Natalie. You finally came to your senses!"

Renee practically dropped her phone; her fingers were shaking.

This brilliant young designer had spent years fading into the wallpaper at Luke Corp just to stay by Jensen's side. After his crash five years ago, she'd even given up a rib—and something far more devastating—to bring him back from the brink. Since then, she'd thrown herself into the relationship like a moth plunging into flames.

But now… the voice coming through the phone didn't sound like the Natalie she knew.

It was low. Rough. Completely hollow.

"Natalie… did Jensen do something to you?"

Renee caught the real issue instantly.

A long silence stretched out. Then a broken sob slipped through.

Renee closed her eyes. She should've known—only Jensen himself could hurt Natalie badly enough to make her walk away.

She wanted to curse him out. She wanted to comfort Natalie. But when she opened her mouth, the words tangled on her tongue.

"Just… just get your visa done and get over here. A woman needs her own career. And this Grant International Holdings program? Nat, it's huge. With your talent, you'll shine there."

Her voice made Natalie nod faintly. "I'll get the visa sorted as soon as I can."

"I'll be waiting!"

After the call, Natalie finally noticed the storm outside. Rain lashed against the windows. The wild wind rattled the wind chime in the living room.

That wind chime—made of the paper cranes she folded every day while praying for Jensen's life—had once symbolized her hope. After he recovered, Jensen had turned it into a chime and hung it proudly in the living room.

Now, staring at it made her stomach turn.

She reached up to take it down, but her elbow bumped into a photo frame on the bar counter.

It fell and shattered. Glass scattered everywhere.

Inside were two photos.

Natalie froze. Two?

She picked them up.

The first was her and Jensen, taken five years ago the night they became a couple.

But the second…

Sharon and Jensen.

Sharon was glowing, smiling like sunlight. Jensen stood behind her, one arm wrapped around her waist, his eyes soft—tender in a way that made Natalie's throat tighten painfully.

Underneath the photo, Jensen had written in dramatic cursive:

Farewell, my love.

The timestamp read 3 a.m.—the night after his recovery.

Exactly seven hours before he came to Natalie with roses, asking her to be his girlfriend.

Her fingers shook around the photo.

In an instant, every sweet memory turned to ash.

What she thought was love…

was just him patching up the ruins of a relationship he'd never gotten over.

With a ragged breath, Natalie tore the wind chime down. Paper cranes scattered across the floor, fluttering like the pieces of her heart.

Her phone buzzed—twice.

It was Renee, forwarding her the official training invitation from Grant International Holdings.

Natalie steadied herself, grabbed her documents, and headed out into the rain to the immigration office.

After reviewing everything, the clerk said, "Ms. Summers, your visa will take about ten days. Please wait for our notification."

“Alright. Thank you."

As she stepped outside, her phone rang—Jensen.

"Natalie, something urgent came up at work. I won't be home tonight."

Before she could respond, he hung up.

Then her WhatsApp chimed again.

It was Sharon.

She'd sent two videos.

In the first, Sharon and Jensen held red marriage certificates, kissing.

Timestamp: yesterday.

In the second, Jensen knelt with a ring—the ring Natalie had designed for her own future wedding—slipping it onto Sharon's finger.

Timestamp: five minutes before Jensen called her.

Of course he wasn't coming home tonight.

It was his wedding night.

Natalie let out a short, cold laugh.

Then Sharon sent a voice message.

"Natalie, Jensen is my legal husband now. You're not allowed to see him anymore. If you do, I won't go easy on you. And don't think it'll be as simple as that little basement punishment from last time."

Natalie didn't hesitate.

"Don't worry. I have no interest in being the other woman."

Then she blocked her.

The moment he chose Sharon, everything between them was over.

In ten days, Natalie would be gone.

And she would never look back.

She took a cab home.

On her way upstairs, she asked the supermarket owner for a few cardboard boxes.

Everything that reminded her of Jensen went into them.

Gifts, clothes he'd bought for her, the sentimental things he'd given her over the years—

all of it went straight into the trash.

Only the expensive jewelry remained. Those she would return.

By the time she finished cleaning, it was past midnight.

Exhausted beyond emotion, she showered and fell asleep the moment she lay down.

The next morning, she took the jewelry to the bank and rented a deposit box. She told the manager to give the key to Jensen in ten days.

Back home, she began packing for her move overseas.

And right then—Jensen walked in.

He paused immediately.

"Did something go missing in here?"

Natalie didn't even look up. "I just cleared out some old junk. Figured it's time to get new things soon."

“Sure. If you see anything you want, let me know. I'll have my assistant handle it."

He tossed his coat onto the couch—and then his gaze landed on something on the side table.

Design drafts.

"The launch for the 'Devotion' jewelry line is tomorrow. You should come with me."

Natalie froze.

She'd worked at Luke Corp for three years. Designed multiple hit pieces.

But Jensen had never once taken her to a single product launch.

No one else even knew that Sundy—the mysterious chief designer—was actually her.

This invitation…

must be guilt.

Natalie kept her voice steady. “Okay.”

Before she walked away for good, she would reclaim her place—publicly.

Just then, her phone buzzed.

An international number. The screen lit up.

Jensen's brows drew together.

"Why are you getting calls from overseas?"

Natalie froze when she saw the caller ID. Her stomach dropped.

That number—

it was the Witch Doctor.

Why the hell was he calling her? Their deal had ended five years ago.

Without thinking, her hand slid to her side, right where the phantom ache of that stolen rib still lived under her skin.

She instantly declined the call and forced her voice to stay even. “Spam. Probably some scammer."

Jensen glanced over, nodded, buying her excuse without a second thought. Lately, foreign scam calls were all over the news.

"Scam calls getting through now? That means your number's been leaked. I'll have my assistant get you a new one tomorrow."

Before she could answer, his phone rang—with that ringtone.

She knew immediately.

Sharon.

Jensen shot her a guilty look, rejected the call in a panic, and muttered, "That's my assistant about work. I'll, uh—take this in the living room."

He didn't wait for her response. He bolted.

Natalie's eyes drifted to her phone.

It was still connected to the smart speaker in the living room—Alexa. Jensen thought it was just a Bluetooth speaker. He had no idea it had a built-in camera.

Natalie had never used it to spy on him.

But today, when Sharon called… something in her finally snapped. She had to know what he was like with Sharon when she wasn't around.

She lowered the volume and opened the Alexa app.

The screen lit up.

There Jensen was, sitting at the bar with his phone in hand, staring out the window—completely unaware that the wind chime symbolizing their love was no longer hanging outside.

His voice was soft. Gentle. "I'll be back soon."

Sharon's sugary voice came through the mic loud and clear.

"Jensen, you're the sweetest. Hey, the new Luke Corp jewelry line is launching tomorrow. Can I come? I heard it's the Devotion series by Sunny—perfect for our honeymoon vibe! You designed it, didn't you? You are Sunny, right?"

Jensen blinked, caught off guard.

"I'm not—"

"Oh, stop. Don't lie to me. Back then, you stood out among the Luke heirs because of that Heart of the Ocean piece. No one knows who Sunny really is, but every time Luke Corp makes a breakthrough, Sunny drops something that matches perfectly. Who else would care that much about the company?"

Natalie let out a cold, bitter laugh.

Every piece she designed—every all-nighter, every cut finger, every sketch—had been a tribute to Jensen and his milestones.

Jensen stayed silent.

Sharon continued, soft and pitiful. "Jensen… my dream has always been to be a jewelry designer. But fate just won't give me the time. Since we're married now… could you let me borrow Sunny's identity? Just once? I want to know what it feels like to be admired like that."

Natalie's hand tightened around her phone.

Did Sharon even realize what she was asking?

Jensen hesitated, glanced toward Natalie's room… then whispered, "Okay. Tomorrow, at the press conference, I'll tell the media you're Sunny."

“Eee! Jensen, I love you!"

Sharon's giggles bubbled through the speaker.

And Natalie went ice-cold.

He knows I'm Sunny.

He knows.

Yet a few sweet words from Sharon, and he was ready to hand over everything—her years of blood and brilliance—without even asking her.

So this was what favoritism looked like.

Natalie couldn't bear another second. She shut off the Bluetooth connection, chest rising and falling sharply.

If Jensen was going to hand her identity to Sharon—

Fine.

She'd take it back herself.

She dialed the international number.

Three rings.

Then the Witch Doctor answered, voice flat and eerie.

"Well, well. Look who found a backbone. Hung up on me earlier, did you? Want me to take Jensen's rib tonight instead?"

Natalie bit her lip. "I don't care what you want in return. Just help me with one thing, and I'll agree to anything."

A pause. Then a low, mocking laugh.

"Didn't you swear you'd die for love five years ago? What changed?"

"Cut the crap. Deal or not?"

Her fingers dug into her phone.

For five years, Jensen had been her family. Her anchor. Her only love.

Now she had no one left—

except the Witch Doctor.

Even if the price was hell.

“Deal.”

She quickly laid out her request and hung up.

Just then, Jensen came back into the room.

“Natalie. You're not allowed at tomorrow's launch."

"Why not?"

She looked at the man she'd loved for five years, feeling something tear open inside her.

Jensen avoided her gaze. "Sunny's identity has to stay hidden. Just stay home. After tomorrow, I'll give you whatever you want."

And he walked away.

Natalie's eyes burned. Her fists clenched so tight her nails broke skin, but she didn't even feel it.

Five years—

What a sick joke.

Her phone chimed again.

A message from the Witch Doctor.

It was an official invitation to tomorrow's Luke Corp launch.

Sharon wanted Sunny's glory?

Let's see if she could handle it.

Natalie didn't sleep at all that night.

The next morning, she put on a pearl-white gown, styled her hair into soft waves, and headed to the venue.

The first thing she saw was Sharon, plastered to Jensen's arm, wearing a radiant smile.

And Jensen… looking at Sharon with warmth, tenderness—eyes that never once left her.

You can't fake love.

Not in your eyes.

She had been so blind.

Natalie gave a quiet, mocking smile. Then lifted her chin and walked in.

Her beauty—cool, elegant, breathtaking—immediately drew attention.

Jensen turned instinctively.

The moment he saw her—

His expression was shattered.

He ripped his arm out of Sharon's grip, stormed toward Natalie, eyes bloodshot, and grabbed her wrist.

"Who told you to come here?"

Natalie felt as if her wrist might snap under Jensen's grip.

He had never treated her so harshly before. And now… for the first time, she saw it—panic and anger flashing in his eyes.

All because she showed up?

A slow, cold smile curled at her lips.

She leaned in suddenly, her warm breath brushing against Jensen's throat. He flinched, a shiver running almost imperceptibly down his spine. Then, in a voice meant for him alone, she whispered,

"This is my launch event, Mr. Luke. After all these years… don't you think it's time I finally showed up?"

Her clear, luminous eyes unsettled him in a way he couldn't explain. His tone hardened.

"It's not your time to appear yet. I'll arrange it later. Just go home for now."

His brows dug together, his temper barely contained.

Natalie's chest tightened.

Even now—even after hearing everything—some foolish part of her still hoped he might confess. That he might give her something, anything, to hold on to. If he admitted the truth now, if he begged her not to expose anything, maybe… maybe she would've stopped.

But he didn't.

He gave her nothing.

Again.

She swallowed it down and smiled. "You really plan to reveal my identity?"

"Natalie, what are you trying to do? You've never been this unreasonable." He dragged in a breath. "Just go home. We'll talk later. I'll have the driver take you."

He fumbled for his phone, some instinct inside him screaming that something was very wrong.

Natalie curled her fingers into fists, her eyes shimmering.

This was the man she'd loved for five long years.

"I'm not leaving."

Her voice didn't tremble—it cut.

Jensen's gaze darkened. "You don't have a choice."

He reached for her again.

Natalie slipped out of reach.

Her eyes slid toward Sharon… and she lifted her wrist deliberately, letting the diamond bracelet catch the lights and shimmer.

Natalie smiled—slow and provoking.

That was all it took.

Sharon's face twisted with rage.

Natalie, flaunting her closeness with Jensen in public, in front of reporters, in front of the board—humiliating her in her moment.

She was Jensen's legal wife. She should be the one showing off. She should be the one adored.

And that bracelet—why did it look so familiar?

Sharon stormed forward and shoved her hard.

“Natalie! Today is Luke Corp's launch of the Devotion series. Why do you have that bracelet? Did you steal it?"

Ah.

So this was how Sharon wanted to play it.

Public humiliation. Character assassination. Perfectly timed.

Her voice rang through the room, loud enough for every guest and every camera.

Heads turned.

Natalie, in her pearl-white gown, the moonlight diamond glittering on her wrist—she looked breathtaking. But with Sharon's accusation hanging in the air, everything shifted.

"Someone that pretty… stealing?"

"You never know. And the way she was clinging to Mr. Luke—definitely not clean."

Natalie's face drained of color as the weight of their judgment crashed over her.

She bit her lip, forcing her voice to stay steady.

"This is mine."

Sharon burst into mocking laughter.

“Yours? You? A broke fraud can afford diamonds?"

She whipped toward the crowd dramatically.

"Let me tell you all who she really is. Her name is Natalie. She was the fake daughter our family raised by mistake. We kicked her out five years ago. She couldn't possibly afford that bracelet."

Natalie's hands shook.

Kicked out?

What a joke.

She had nearly died in that house.

The whip scars down her spine still pulsed like phantom fire.

And Jensen—he had known. He had treated those wounds himself, with trembling fingers terrified of hurting her.

Now, when she looked at him…

He looked away.

He didn't defend her.

He didn't correct Sharon.

He didn't speak.

He didn't dare go against Sharon.

She had known better.

But it still hurt like hell.

Five years of love—every touch, every whispered promise, every morning spent curled in his arms—now felt like blades carving through her.

She forced herself to breathe and managed, "Ms. Summers, accusing me of theft just because of who I used to be—don't you think that's a bit much? Got any proof? How do you know I haven't made something of myself in the last five years?"

Sharon rolled her eyes. “You? Made a name?" She scoffed. "You want proof? Fine, I'll give you proof."

She flipped her hair and turned proudly to the crowd.

"Everyone knows today's launch features the Devotion series designed by the elusive Sunny. Well—" she rested a hand on her chest, "I'm Sunny. That bracelet is my design. Mr. Luke can confirm it."

Gasps exploded around the hall.

“What? Ms. Summers is Sunny?"

“Mr. Luke, is that true? Sunny only works with Luke Corp, and no one's ever seen her face—is it really her?"

Reporters surged forward, cameras flashing.

Natalie didn't look at them.

She looked only at Jensen—at the man who had once sworn she was the only one he'd ever trust.

She needed to hear him say it.

Jensen felt her eyes on him. His jaw tightened painfully.

Then Sharon held onto his arm and murmured softly, "Jensen~"

Just that one word.

A plea.

He remembered she didn't have long to live.

And he caved.

"Yes," he said quietly. "Sharon is Sunny. She's been Luke Corp's chief designer for the last five years."

The moment the words left his lips, Natalie felt her heart crack apart.

No one—not a single person in that room—knew better than Jensen how much she had bled for those designs.

And he gave them to Sharon without hesitation.

Fine.

So be it.

She bit down so hard she tasted blood, the metallic tang fueling the flames rising in her chest.

Sharon, ecstatic with her victory, turned smugly to the crowd.

"You heard him. That bracelet is my work. Which means Natalie stole it. She probably stole other designs too. Security! Strip her down and check everything she has!"

Two guards stepped in immediately. They seized Natalie's arms and slammed her against the cold ground.

Her dress strap tore with a sharp rip.

Gasps erupted throughout the room.

Whip scars—deep, vicious, horrific—ran down her exposed back.

And among the crowd, a man clenched his wine glass so hard it shattered in his hand. Blood dripped from his palm onto the broken shards, red pooling at his feet—his eyes blazing with a murderous rage that could level kingdoms.

Someone had just declared war.

And they didn't even know it yet.

"Let me go! What you're doing is illegal!"

Natalie fought wildly against the guards, her wrists twisting against their iron grip.

She lifted her head, eyes burning as she stared straight at Jensen. Her teeth were clenched so hard the grinding was audible.

"Jensen," she demanded, "can you really look me in the eye and say Sharon is truly Sunny?"

Her eyes were swollen—red, glossy, heartbreakingly beautiful—but steady. Fiercely steady.

And on her back… those brutal, jagged whip scars…

An ugly, deafening slap across Jensen's conscience.

His hands curled into fists.

He'd been the one who treated those wounds.

He'd wrapped her back, layer by layer, for days.

He once swore he'd never let anyone lay a finger on her again.

And yet—

He instinctively stepped toward her.

But Sharon latched onto his arm.

"Jensen, my stomach… it hurts…" she whimpered, voice fragile and sweet enough to be poison.

Ice water poured over Jensen's spine.

Right. Sharon was terminally ill.

What did it matter if he handed her this spotlight? Natalie was young. She had time. She'd be fine.

He forced down the roiling guilt and spoke, voice cold:

"She's my designer. I know that for sure. Sharon—Sunny, the chief designer at Luke Corp."

Sharon beamed.

And Natalie—only one tear slipped down her cheek.

Even after Jensen secretly married Sharon behind her back…

Even after she resolved to let go…

She still wanted to protect the five years they had shared.

God, what a fool she was.

Jensen saw that tear, and something twisted painfully inside him.

In five years, no matter how much she suffered, Natalie had never cried.

But now…

He stepped forward again.

"Don't just stand there!" Sharon snapped sharply. "Strip her. Or do I have to do it myself? Jensen, right?"

She pouted, leaning into him, playing the wounded wife.

Jensen swallowed hard. His gaze flicked to Natalie.

"If you didn't steal anything… you've got nothing to hide."

Natalie laughed.

Still kneeling on the cold floor. Her dress strap torn. Her back exposed, scarred. Her body bent at an awkward angle.

Her laughter—thin, sharp, unstable—cut straight through the murmuring crowd.

"Enough!" Jensen barked. "Take her backstage and check her."

He couldn't look at her any longer.

Sharon opened her mouth to add something cruel, but the cold warning in Jensen's eyes shut her up.

The guards moved to drag Natalie away—but she wrenched herself free.

"No need! If Mr. Luke believes I need to be searched, why hide backstage like a criminal? Wouldn't that look more suspicious?" She sneered. "Strip me, right? Fine—I'll do it myself."

And with a vicious tug, she tore off her moon-white gown and flung it aside.

Gasps burst across the hall.

Clad only in black undergarments, her fair skin seemed to glow under the lights—

but so did the lash marks carved brutally across her back and legs.

"Oh my god… what happened to her?"

"Were those… beatings?"

Reporters surged forward, cameras clicking frantically.

Natalie ignored every flash.

She stared directly at Jensen and Sharon.

"This is everything. Nothing left except my underwear. If Mr. Luke and Ms. Summers think I'm still hiding something…" She extended her arms. "Come search me yourselves."

Jensen's expression twisted—shock, horror, something darker.

Those scars.

He remembered them.

That half-dead girl he carried out of the Summers' basement five years ago. Broken. Bloodied.

He'd spent nights nursing her back to life.

She never wore off-shoulder dresses.

They had never even been fully intimate—because she couldn't bear to show him her back.

Now she exposed herself in front of the entire world.

And for the first time… Jensen felt afraid.

Sharon's expression soured the moment she saw the scars.

What the hell was this woman trying to pull?

She snapped quickly, "Natalie, don't pretend you're some tragic heroine. You were kicked out because you were a tramp. Mom and Dad couldn't stand your behavior. And now you're flaunting the proof of your indecency? Disgusting!”

“What? Those are from sleeping around?"

"She was what—seventeen? Eighteen? Wow, she must've been wild. No wonder they threw her out."

The crowd's faces twisted—disgust, disdain, judgment.

Sharon's lips curled triumphantly.

So what if she'd given those beatings?

It was her basement. No cameras.

Her parents wouldn't talk.

She controlled the story.

Even if Natalie denied it—who would believe her?

Jensen stared at Natalie, eyes widening.

"So that's where the wounds came from."

Natalie felt her blood go cold.

His look…

His disgust…

If looks could kill, she'd already be in pieces.

She turned her gaze to Sharon—

and saw the exact same expression she had seen five years ago.

Pure, gleeful cruelty.

Natalie laughed—a sound brittle enough to crack.

"Sharon, just because no one saw you abuse me doesn't mean you can rewrite history. You really think you can spit filth and they'll all swallow it?"

"What are you implying?" Sharon snapped, but there was the faintest flicker of uncertainty.

Natalie lifted her hand and displayed the diamond bracelet.

"You say this bracelet is part of the Devotion line. You say you designed it. Then tell everyone—what does it do?"

Silence dropped over the room.

Sharon hadn't expected this.

Truth was, she didn't even know if the bracelet was part of the collection. She just needed a reason—any reason—to ruin Natalie.

Now cornered, she darted a nervous glance at Jensen.

He didn't answer.

His frown deepened.

Something about this felt off.

Natalie saw it—saw the confusion, the tension tightening his jaw.

"That's enough," Jensen said sharply. "Sharon doesn't need to prove anything. If she says it's her design, it is. Return the bracelet, and we'll let you leave quietly."

So magnanimous.

So merciful.

As if he were granting her grace.

Natalie let out a small, cold laugh.

"You two might forgive and forget. But I won't."

She raised her wrist—

and tapped the bracelet twice.

A click sounded.

The diamond centerpiece shifted aside—

and a soft blue beam shot out into the air.

A holographic projection burst to life, illuminating the massive display screen at the front of the venue.

The entire room gasped.

Eyes widened.

Bodies froze.

And then the video began to play—

and the crowd watched, stunned into silence.