Yuna stared at the photo on Alexander's phone like it was a ghost she never invited back.
> A hospital hallway. A gurney. Blood. Her face.
Seven years ago.
Name: Yuna Eastin.
Her mouth was dry. Her body remained still.
But inside?
A floodgate snapped.
"I thought it was destroyed," she whispered into the silence.
Alexander didn't blink. "What happened to you?"
She turned away, unable to hold his gaze.
"Yuna."
She exhaled, long and trembling. "That night… they said it was an accident. A party gone wrong. Too much alcohol, a staircase. But it wasn't."
His brow furrowed. "Then what was it?"
She swallowed. "It was a message. From my father."
The room froze.
Alexander stepped closer. "Your father did this?"
She nodded once, slowly. "I had threatened to walk away from the family fund. From the 'Eastin legacy.' I'd found out about some of his offshore holdings—dirty money, maybe worse. I was nineteen. Angry. Stupid. I told him I'd go to the press."
"And then you ended up bleeding in a hospital hallway?" Alexander asked, voice cold.
"Two ribs broken. Wrist fractured. I woke up to security at my door and my mother crying beside my bed. They said I slipped. The footage was locked away. Buried."
Alexander's eyes were like razors. "And now someone's dug it up."
Yuna nodded. "They want to remind me. That they still own the truth."
Down in the Wolfe Tower surveillance hub, Austin stared at the same photo on his private screen.
Alone.
Expression unreadable.
He didn't flinch when Yuna's name flashed across the gurney.
He didn't reach for his phone.
Instead, he opened a secure message board.
Typed one word:
> "Delivered."
Then he encrypted the thread and returned to the security feed—just in time to see Alexander and Yuna embrace.
Meanwhile, in an upscale apartment uptown, Elsa Eastin watched the same hospital footage on a loop.
She didn't cry.
She didn't look away.
She simply poured herself a glass of red wine and crossed her legs.
"You should've stayed quiet," she murmured to the screen. "You always were too dramatic."
David leaned against the doorway, expression tight.
"She'll come for us," he said.
"Let her," Elsa replied coolly. "This time, we're not hiding behind satin and smiles."
He stepped closer. "Are you sure this is the play? Revealing the past—won't it backfire?"
"She has Alexander Wolfe," Elsa said. "The man with a reputation for burning down entire industries. If we want to survive what's coming, we need to do more than counter her."
David frowned. "We need to destroy her?"
"No," Elsa whispered. "We need to rewrite her."
Back at Wolfe Tower, Yuna stood under the steaming pressure of a scalding shower, the heat barely enough to burn away the memories clawing back into her skull.
The gurney.
The hospital lights.
Her father's calm voice saying, "This is your second and final warning, Yuna. The world doesn't belong to little girls who run their mouths."
She emerged twenty minutes later to find Alexander waiting with a tablet in hand.
"I have something," he said. "A name. The doctor on duty that night."
She took the device, scrolled through the record.
Her heart stilled.
> Dr. Callum Wirth.
Status: Deceased.
Cause: Car accident.
Date: one week after Yuna's release from the hospital.
"He was silenced," she whispered.
Alexander nodded grimly. "And we're just now realizing how deep this goes."
Yuna handed the tablet back. "We're not fighting a family, Alexander. We're fighting a system."
Later that afternoon, Austin entered the penthouse.
Calm.
Efficient.
Almost too perfect.
"I've arranged your next media drop," he said. "Fashion exclusive. 'From Broken to Billionaire: How Yuna Eastin Rewrote the Rules.' You'll wear Wolfe couture. The tabloids will eat it up."
Yuna raised a brow. "Fashion therapy?"
"Image therapy," Austin replied. "We need to keep you elevated while we handle the darker threads underground."
Alexander gave a curt nod. "Fine. Set it up."
Yuna watched Austin closely as he tapped out logistics. His body language hadn't changed. But something in his eyes had.
Colder.
Sharper.
She made a mental note: Don't trust too easily. Not even the ones who know how you take your coffee.
That evening, Yuna stepped onto the terrace in an emerald green dress cut like armor, her hair twisted into a sleek braid. The fashion shoot was already set up—high-end, high-security, high risk.
Alexander watched from the edge as the camera clicked.
"You know," the photographer said between flashes, "I shot your sister two months ago. She wore something similar."
Yuna smiled without warmth. "Let me guess—she said it was a tribute to me."
"She said you'd already faded."
Yuna's smile widened. "Then tell her I'm the afterimage that burns the longest."
As the shoot wrapped, Yuna checked her phone.
One new message.
From an unlisted number.
> Enjoying the spotlight? Remember—it's stolen light.
Attached was a brief video clip.
Her.
At age nineteen.
Hospital bed.
Eyes bruised. Voice faint.
"Please… don't let him find me. He'll do it again…"
Yuna's blood turned to ice.
She felt it before she heard it: Alexander's footsteps behind her.
"What now?" he asked.
She handed him the phone.
He watched it once.
Then again.
The second time, his jaw clenched so hard she thought his teeth might crack.
"They're escalating," he said.
"No," she whispered. "They're baiting."
She turned, fire lighting her eyes.
"Let's stop reacting."
He looked at her, brow lifting. "What are you suggesting?"
Yuna squared her shoulders. "Let's give them a lie so seductive they won't be able to ignore it."
"What kind of lie?"
"One that makes them panic."
The next morning, headlines exploded:
> "BREAKING: Alexander Wolfe and Yuna Eastin Engaged in Secret Ceremony in Italy?"
> Insiders say the pair tied the knot quietly after a romantic retreat near Lake Como. Neither party has confirmed nor denied the union—but rumors of a pregnancy swirl…
In the Eastin estate, Elsa threw her phone across the room.
David caught it midair.
"She's not pregnant," he said flatly.
Elsa's lips curled. "No. But she's winning the media war."
She turned to the fire, eyes gleaming.
"Time to leak the file."
David stiffened. "The real one?"
"The only one."
She smiled darkly.
"Let's see how Wolfe reacts when he finds out the woman he's falling for once begged her father to have him killed."