He looked up from the dossier, just like last time.
Same eyes. Same casual smirk. Same rehearsed disinterest that once intrigued her.
"You're either very confident," she said, stepping into the scene exactly as before, "or very lost."
Marcus looked up, just as scripted. "Neither. Just bored."
Only this time, she wasn't.
Anita smiled, slower. Measured. "Of pretense?"
He blinked, surprised. "Exactly."
She offered her hand. "Anita George."
"I know who you are."
Of course you do.
This time, when he said it, she didn't feel flattered. She felt confirmed.
He'd studied her long before that night. Knew her weaknesses. Knew how to pose as the one man who didn't fear her ambition.
But Anita was no longer the woman who mistook attention for admiration.
She was death returned in heels—and she came to rewrite the ending.
**
They spoke. Ten minutes. Twenty. An hour.
But this time, Anita let him do the heavy lifting. She mirrored just enough curiosity to keep him engaged. Just enough charm to pull him in. She fed him questions with empty praise, let him circle the bait.
And every word, every glance, every move—she memorized.
"You don't seem impressed by any of this," he said at one point, nodding toward the room.
"I've learned the loudest people are usually the least dangerous."
He grinned. "And the quiet ones?"
"They're either very smart... or very patient."
She saw it then—just a flicker—the twitch in his jaw, the shift in his eyes. A hint of something calculating, something reactive.
He didn't like not having the upper hand.
Good.
**
Later that night, Anita sat in her penthouse suite, reviewing everything she already knew—his history, his alliances, the eventual poisoning.
But now, she saw more.
Patterns. Timing. Weak spots.
He wasn't just playing her. He was building something of his own—within her empire, using her power.
And this time, she wouldn't stop him.
Not yet.
Let the spider weave, she thought. Let him believe he's the hunter.
Because Anita George was no longer prey.
She would become the bait.
The mirror.
The trap.
She would play his game. Smile at his lies. Dance with his ambition.
And then—when the timing was perfect—she would take everything back.
Including her soul.