Chapter One
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To marry the city’s crown prince, my sister tried to drug him. She failed.
Instead of a wedding bed, she got a boot to the stomach that sent her to the ER and got her fired.
But in her warped reality, that wasn’t rejection.
It was the start of a twisted romance novel.
She escalated, stalking him, crashing his company, until his bodyguards beat her into the
ICU.
Two months later, she claimed she was pregnant with his child, having bought a “specimen” from a corrupt insider.
Fearing the wrath of a man like Donovan Croft, I dragged her to a clinic and forced her to terminate the pregnancy.
I thought I was saving us.
On the day Donovan Croft’s engagement was announced, my sister cooked me a
celebratory dinner.
As I lay paralyzed on the floor, blood pouring from my mouth, she smiled, a kitchen knife in her hand.
“It should have been me,” she whispered, plunging the blade into my stomach.
“If you hadn’t made me get rid of the baby, I would be his bride right now.”
My eyes shot open.
I was back.
“He did it because he’s falling for me!”
“It’s just like in my books, the hero always hurts the heroine at first!”
“It proves I’m his destiny!”
That voice.
That insane, familiar declaration.
I was really back.
The slap echoed in the sterile hospital room.
“Wake the hell up,” I snarled, my palm stinging.
“Take a good look at yourself in a puddle of your own piss.”
“You have nothing.”
“What billionaire would be crazy enough to love you?”
Jenna stared at me, her hand cupping her reddening cheek, her mind struggling to catch up. Seconds later, a shriek tore from her throat.
“Carys!”
“How dare you hit me?”
I met her gaze with ice.
After what she did to me in my last life, a slap was a mercy,
I should have been returning the favor with a knife,
Jenna’s obsession with billionaire romance novels had consumed her.
She’d dropped out of community college to work as a receptionist at a five–star hotel, all for the chance to meet an alpha male.
When she heard the Donovan Croft was checking in, she saw her chance.
17:11 Thu, Jul 31
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She’d drug him, one night of passion, a secret baby–the whole trashy trope. Except Donovan Croft was paranoid.
He never touched the water she gave him.
She didn’t just fail to get into his bed; he kicked her into a hospital bed.
She lost her job.
The medical bills were astronomical.
I had tried to reason with her then.
*If his bed was so easy to climb into, his illegitimate children would be running a small country by now.*
She hadn’t listened.
After being discharged, she’d stormed his company headquarters daily, demanding he take responsibility.
She stalked him, sabotaged one of his business deals.
This time, Donovan Croft didn’t hold back.
He had her beaten so badly she ended up in the ICU.
His assistant had told me to prepare two million dollars, or Jenna would go to prison.
I took out high–interest online loans.
I sold our parents‘ house.
The moment the money was transferred, I was fired.
Then blacklisted from my entire industry.
That’s when I learned: when Donovan Croft decides to destroy someone, he doesn’t stop until they’re dust.
And even that, I was told, was him showing restraint.
I told Jenna to give up.
た
Instead, she told me she’d secured his genetic material and was already two months pregnant.
I was sure she’d been scammed.
Terrified of what Donovan would do to us, I forced her to have the abortion.
And in return, she’d gutted me like a fish.
“You’re just jealous,” Jenna’s voice, identical to the one in my memory, snapped me back to the present.
“Jealous that I got into his bed while you’ve never even seen his face.”
I slapped her again, harder this time.
“Get a grip, Jenna.”
“The rich aren’t stupid, and Donovan Croft is not someone you mess with.”
“I’m not losing my job because of your fantasies.”
The two slaps finally ignited her rage.
“You pathetic little wage slave!” she screamed.
“When I marry into the Croft family, a crumb from my finger will be enough to feed you for a lifetime, and all you can think about is your stupid job!”
1 let out a cold laugh.
“Marry him first.”
“Then we’ll talk.”
A doctor came in to stitch up Jenna’s arm.
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Only then did I notice the twenty–centimeter gash. Donovan Croft had sliced her with a knife.
The wound was deep, clearly meant to cause serious harm. And my sister saw this as a sign of love.
She had no brain.
But I did.
After leaving the hospital, I went straight to Croft Enterprises.
For seven days, the receptionist turned me away.
On the eighth day, Donovan’s top assistant, Silas Finch, came down to meet me.
His face was a mask of cold professionalism.
“Ms. Rowe, perhaps you’re unaware of the full situation.”
“Your sister attempted to sexually assault Mr. Croft.”
“The fact that we haven’t involved the police is, frankly, an act of mercy.”
“I’m not here to defend Jenna.”
Seeing his misunderstanding, I quickly pulled an object from my bag and handed it to him. It was a digital voice recorder.
