Chapter 4

The hostile takeover attempt came swift and hard, just as I had anticipated. Dustin Estrada, my once-loyal protégé, used the inside information I had entrusted to him to launch a coordinated attack on our company's stock. It was the exact same strategy as in my previous life.

But this time, I wasn't caught off guard.

For the past week, I had been quietly liquidating my non-essential assets and setting up a new, independent firm under a different name. I had also been feeding Dustin carefully selected, slightly altered data through a back channel, making him believe our company's defenses were weaker than they actually were.

When the attack came, I didn't fight it head-on. Instead, I let them buy up the stock at an inflated price, creating a bubble. While Graves and Dustin were celebrating their apparent victory, I executed a massive short sell, betting against my own company.

The market closed. The bubble burst.

Graves and Dustin's new acquisitions became worthless overnight. They had poured a massive amount of capital into a sinking ship. My new firm, on the other hand, made a fortune.

I was in the temporary office of my new company, watching the stock ticker flatline, when my phone rang. It was an unknown number. I answered.

"You bitch!" Graves's voice was a raw, animalistic roar. "What did you do?"

"I just played the game, Graves," I said calmly. "The same game you taught me."

"I'll ruin you! I'll destroy you!" he screamed, his voice cracking with rage and disbelief.

"You already tried," I replied, a hint of ice in my tone. "And you failed. It's over, Graves. You have nothing left."

There was a moment of stunned silence, then the sound of something smashing against a wall. He hung up.

I sat back in my chair, the adrenaline slowly draining away, leaving me feeling hollow but victorious. I had not only saved myself, but I had crippled him.

But my revenge was far from complete.

A few days later, I was walking to my car in the parking garage of my new office building. It was late, and the garage was mostly empty. As I fumbled for my keys, I heard footsteps behind me.

I turned to see two large, menacing figures approaching. I knew them. They were Graves's personal security, his enforcers. In my first life, they were the ones who had...

My heart hammered against my ribs. I started to run, but they were too fast. They grabbed me, one covering my mouth to stifle my screams, the other pinning my arms. They dragged me into the dark corner of the garage, behind a large pillar.

"Mr. Kramer sends his regards," one of them grunted.

Then the pain started. A fist slammed into my stomach, knocking the wind out of me. I doubled over, gasping for air. Another blow struck my back. They were careful not to leave marks on my face, just like last time. They wanted to inflict pain, to break my body and my spirit.

As I lay on the cold concrete, my vision blurring, one of their phones rang. The man answered, putting it on speaker.

"Is it done?" It was Graves's voice, cold and detached.

"Yes, sir," the man replied.

Then, another voice. A soft, feminine voice. Alex. "Is she okay? You didn't hurt her too badly, did you?" she asked, her tone laced with fake concern.

"Don't worry, my love," Graves said, his voice softening. "She just needed a little reminder of her place. I'll always protect you from her."

A bitter, hysterical laugh tried to escape my lips, but it came out as a choked sob. Protect her? From me? He was the monster. He was the one who had ordered this. He had promised to protect me once, a lifetime ago. He had sworn he would always be there for me. All lies.

The men kicked me one last time for good measure before walking away, leaving me crumpled and broken on the ground.

Blood trickled from the corner of my mouth. Every breath was agony. I lay there in the darkness, the echo of Graves's words ringing in my ears. The physical pain was immense, but it was nothing compared to the cold, dead certainty that had settled in my soul.

I had loved a man who was capable of this. I had carried his child.

Slowly, painfully, I pushed myself up. I leaned against the pillar, my body screaming in protest. I pulled out my phone, my fingers trembling. I didn't call the police. I knew that would be useless. Graves would buy his way out of it.

Instead, I called a different number. A number I had hoped I would never have to use.

"It's me," I whispered into the phone, my voice hoarse. "I need your help."

I was activating the final piece of my plan. The part that would ensure Graves Kramer would pay for everything he had done. Not with money, but with pain.