Her Revenge: A Castle from Ashes

Allie Patterson POV:

The engine of my beat-up Honda sputtered and stalled twice as I forced it up the steep, tree-lined drive in Atherton. The car was a secondhand purchase from my college days. I had kept it running with duct tape and cheap parts for over a decade, all because Grayson said every dollar needed to go into the company. The engine finally died completely just as I pulled to a stop in front of a massive, sprawling Tuscan-style villa.

I sat in the driver's seat and looked through the cracked window. Towering wrought-iron gates stood between me and a manicured, vibrant green lawn that looked like a country club fairway. A wave of dizziness hit me, making the massive stone columns blur for a second.

I pushed the heavy car door open and stepped out. My feet landed on the expensive, perfectly laid flagstone driveway. I looked down at my old, worn-out sneakers. They were stained with drops of the cold coffee I had spilled just an hour ago.

I walked straight toward the imposing gates. I took a deep, jagged breath, lifted my finger, and pressed the polished brass button on the video intercom panel.

The wait lasted exactly ten seconds. Every second stretched like an hour. My heartbeat roared in my eardrums, drowning out the sound of the wind in the trees.

A voice crackled through the intercom speaker. It was a young, lazy, and sickeningly flirtatious female voice. "Honey, did you forget your keys?"

I didn't make a sound. I stood perfectly still, my eyes locked dead center on the small black lens of the security camera.

The intercom clicked off. A heavy, mechanical grinding sound echoed through the air. The massive iron gates slowly slid apart, opening the fortress to me.

My legs felt like they were made of lead, but I forced them to move. I marched across the sprawling courtyard, my cheap sneakers slapping against the stone, until I reached the luxurious, custom-carved double oak doors.

The brass handle turned from the inside. The heavy door swung open, revealing a tall, stunning young blonde woman standing in the entryway.

She was wearing a deeply cut, revealing burgundy silk pajama set. In her right hand, she casually held a crystal flute filled with bubbling champagne.

The woman looked at me. The welcoming smile on her face vanished instantly. Her eyes swept over my baggy t-shirt, my messy hair, and my stained shoes, assessing me with blatant disgust.

She wrinkled her nose, her tone dripping with arrogance. "Are you delivery? I didn't order anything."

My eyes scanned her face, tracing her jawline, her nose, her perfectly injected lips. I committed her features to memory. It was her. Kacey Schmidt. The name on the four-million-dollar deed.

I clenched my jaw, forcing the tremor out of my vocal cords. "I'm Allie Patterson," I said, my voice dropping to a freezing, flat register.

Kacey's pupils dilated slightly at the sound of my name. A brief second of recognition flashed in her eyes. Then, the corner of her mouth curled up into a mocking, vicious smirk.

She didn't panic. She didn't try to shut the door. Instead, she leaned her shoulder lazily against the expensive oak doorframe, striking a deliberately provocative pose.

"Oh," she purred, taking a slow sip of her champagne. "So you're the company's... technical backbone." She placed heavy, mocking emphasis on the last two words.

My gaze shifted, looking past her shoulder into the cavernous living room. Resting against a custom leather sofa was a set of Callaway golf clubs. Grayson's custom clubs. The ones he told me he kept in the trunk of his car for networking.

My stomach rolled violently again. I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek. I bit down until the metallic taste of fresh blood flooded my tongue.

"Is Grayson here?" My voice was so cold it didn't even sound human.

Kacey let out a soft, amused chuckle. She swirled the champagne in her glass, watching the bubbles rise. "He's in the shower. We were so tired last night."

The words acted like a serrated knife plunging directly into my chest cavity. I curled my fingers inward. I squeezed my fists so tight my fingernails pierced the skin of my palms.

Kacey noticed my reaction. She clearly decided the knife wasn't twisted deep enough. She deliberately raised her left hand, brushing a strand of perfectly styled blonde hair behind her ear.

The California sunlight hit her hand. The reflection flashed into my eyes, blindingly bright and sharp.

My vision immediately snapped to her ring finger. Resting there was a massive, flawless pear-shaped pink diamond. It was the kind of stone that cost hundreds of thousands of dollars.

But the diamond wasn't what stopped my heart. Stacked right beneath the massive pink rock was another ring. An old, tarnished, simple silver band.

My lungs stopped functioning. All the air drained from the world. I stared unblinking at that simple silver ring.

Kacey saw exactly where my eyes were locked. She slowly extended her left hand outward, holding it inches from my face, showing off both rings like hunting trophies.

She flashed a brilliant, victorious smile and lowered her voice to a venomous whisper.

"Pretty, isn't it?"