The transformation took exactly forty-eight hours.
In the world of the elite, money can't buy happiness, but it can buy a version of yourself that looks like a goddess carved from ice. My grandfather's team of stylists had worked on me like I was a high-stakes restoration project. The "plain" Aria the one who wore oversized sweaters and kept her hair in a messy bun while coding Mark's dreams into reality was gone.
In her place stood a woman I barely recognized in the full-length mirror of the Vance Manor.
I was draped in a floor-length, backless gown of midnight-blue silk that clung to my curves like a second skin. My hair, once dull and neglected, was now a waterfall of glossy waves. But it was my eyes that had changed the most. The warmth was gone, replaced by a cold, calculating shimmer.
"You look like a Vance," my grandfather said, standing at the door. He handed me a necklace of raw diamonds that looked like jagged shards of ice. "Tonight is the Charity Gala for the Tech Council. Mark and that... woman... are already there. They think they're celebrating his nomination for 'Entrepreneur of the Year.'"
"He's celebrating on a stolen throne," I said, fastening the diamonds around my neck. "It's time to remind him who built it."
A heavy step sounded in the hallway, and Lucian Thorne appeared. He was in a tuxedo that probably cost more than Mark's first car. He leaned against the doorframe, his icy blue eyes raking over me with a slow, deliberate intensity that made my pulse skip.
"Careful, Aria," Lucian whispered, his voice a low vibration. "If you look at Mark with that much fire in your eyes, you might burn the whole building down before I get a chance to buy the ruins."
"Then let it burn," I replied, taking the arm he offered.
The Grand Ballroom was a sea of shimmering lights, expensive champagne, and the smell of old money and new greed. As Lucian and I stepped out of the black Maybach, the paparazzi's flashes were blinding.
They didn't recognize me. To them, I was just the mysterious, stunning woman on the arm of the most dangerous man in finance.
Inside, the room was buzzing. I spotted them almost immediately.
Mark was standing in the center of a circle of investors, looking smug in a velvet blazer. Sarah was clinging to his arm, wearing a vulgar, bright red dress that screamed for attention. She was laughing too loudly, playing the role of the "New Queen" with sickening desperation.
"Look at them," Lucian murmured in my ear, his breath hot against my skin. "They think they've won the lottery. They don't realize the ticket is counterfeit."
"Wait for it," I whispered.
We walked toward the center of the room. The crowd parted like the Red Sea. Lucian Thorne didn't go to parties; he conducted business. People moved out of his way out of pure survival instinct.
Mark turned, a practiced, "billionaire" smile on his face, ready to greet whoever was important enough to command such silence.
The smile didn't just fade it died.
His champagne glass tilted in his hand, droplets of the expensive liquid falling onto his polished shoes. His eyes went wide, fixed on me. Beside him, Sarah's face went from triumphant to ghostly pale.
"A-Aria?" Mark stammered, his voice cracking.
I didn't stop until I was standing directly in front of them. I didn't look at Sarah. To me, she was invisible. My gaze was locked on the man who had promised to love me forever while planning to leave me in the rain.
"Good evening, Mark," I said, my voice smooth and elegant, carrying just enough volume for the surrounding investors to hear. "I see you're wearing the watch I bought you. It's a bit much for a man who's about to lose his sense of time, don't you think?"
"What are you doing here?" Sarah hissed, finding her voice. She tried to puff out her chest, her hand instinctively going to her stomach in a pathetic display of her pregnancy. "This is a private event for the elite. Security!"
Lucian stepped forward then, his presence looming over them like a dark cloud. "Security? Are you referring to the men I pay to guard this building, Miss...?" He paused, looking at her with utter disgust. "I'm sorry, I don't believe we've been introduced to the help."
The crowd gasped. Sarah looked like she'd been slapped.
"Lucian," Mark said, his voice shaking with a mix of fear and confusion. "What is this? Why are you with my... with Aria?"
"Aria is my new business partner, Mark," Lucian said, his lip curling into a predatory smirk. "And as of ten minutes ago, I have purchased forty percent of your company's outstanding debt. Debt that you secured using assets that, according to your pre-nuptial agreement, actually belong to the Vance estate."
Mark's face went from pale to a sickly shade of gray. "The Vance estate? What are you talking about? Aria's a nobody! She has no family!"
"Actually," my grandfather's booming voice rang out as he walked up behind us, his cane clicking rhythmically on the marble floor. "She's the only person in this room who matters. I am Silas Vance, and this 'nobody' is my granddaughter and the sole heir to my empire."
The silence in the ballroom was absolute. You could have heard a pin drop.
Mark looked at me, then at Silas, then at Lucian. He looked like a man standing on a trapdoor, realizing the rope was already around his neck.
"Aria, baby... we can talk about this," Mark started, his voice turning desperate. He reached out to touch my arm.
I stepped back before his skin could foul mine.
"The only place we'll be talking, Mark, is in court," I said, leaning in so only he and Sarah could hear. "I've frozen the Thorne-Vance accounts. By tomorrow morning, your 'merger' will be canceled, your credit cards will be declined, and that penthouse you kicked me out of? It belongs to my grandfather's holding company. I want you and your mistress out by midnight."
"You can't do this!" Sarah shrieked, her "White Lotus" mask finally crumbling.
"I can," I said, looking her in the eye for the first time. "And I'm just getting started. Enjoy the party, Mark. It's the last one you'll ever be invited to."
I turned away, my silk gown swirling around my heels. As I walked toward the bar with Lucian, I felt a weight lift off my shoulders.
"That was a good start," Lucian whispered, handing me a fresh glass of champagne. "But the real fun begins tomorrow. Are you ready to go for the throat?"
I took a sip of the bubbles, watching in the mirror as security approached Mark and Sarah to "discreetly" escort them out of the building.
"Lucian," I said, a slow, dangerous smile spreading across my lips. "I didn't come here for a snack. I came for the whole feast."