The rain hadn’t stopped that evening. The sky hung heavy and gray, the air damp and cool. From her penthouse window, Casandra stared at her reflection in the mirror — flawless skin, red lips, a silk gown draped elegantly on her frame. Yet her eyes were sharp and burning, dark with fury.

“I gave you everything, Adrian,” she whispered to her reflection. “And now you kneel before the woman who humiliated you in front of the press?”

Her voice trembled with rage. A second later, she hurled her diamond bracelet at the vanity. The crash echoed through the apartment like a thunderclap.

Behind her, her assistant, Elisa, entered cautiously, clutching...