The Jilted Heiress's Spectacular High Society Comeback

Elliana sat behind the heavy oak desk in the study. She pulled a black leather notebook from the drawer and laid it flat on the surface.

She picked up a fountain pen. Her fingers were steady.

She wrote the name Beatrice Astor-Wexler at the top of the page and drew a thick, dark circle around it.

She remembered the scandal from her past life. The Astor-Wexler gala was the most exclusive old-money event in New York. The centerpiece of the estate was a famous oil painting called Autumn. Everyone in the inner circle knew the dark truth about that painting. It was the exact piece of art Beatrice's ex-husband had bought for his stripper mistress before the messy, public divorce. It was a symbol of ultimate humiliation.

Kyle was desperate to break into the elite social circle. She just needed the right push.

Elliana pressed the pen hard against the paper. She wrote the word Autumn and drew three stars next to it in red ink.

Below it, she wrote a detailed, entirely fabricated analysis. She wrote that Beatrice cherished the painting above all else. She wrote that praising Autumn as a symbol of pure, untainted love and loyalty was the absolute key to winning Beatrice's favor and securing a permanent spot in high society.

She left the notebook open in the dead center of the desk.

Her ears picked up a faint sound. The soft rustle of fabric brushing against the wood paneling outside the study door. A shallow breath.

Marta was listening.

Elliana picked up her phone. She dialed the voicemail of an old classmate from RISD. She waited for the beep.

"Hey, it's Elliana," she said. She pitched her voice higher, making it sound excited and slightly arrogant.

She paced the room, ensuring her voice carried perfectly through the door. "Yes, I'm preparing for the Astor-Wexler gala. I finally figured out how to get Beatrice's attention. It's the painting in the main hall. Autumn."

She paused, letting the silence hang for a second.

"Exactly," Elliana continued loudly. "You just have to tell Beatrice that the painting represents pure love and loyalty. If you use those exact words, she will instantly accept you into her inner circle. It's the ultimate secret."

She stopped talking. She waited.

Outside the door, the floorboards creaked softly. Rapid, light footsteps hurried away down the hall.

Elliana ended the call. She walked to the door and yanked it open.

She saw the hem of Marta's grey uniform disappear around the corner at the far end of the corridor.

Elliana let out a short, cold laugh. She stepped back into the study and closed the door, turning the deadbolt with a loud, heavy click.

She walked to the window and parted the blinds with two fingers. She looked down at the back gardens.

Marta was standing behind a large hedge, hidden from the security cameras. She was holding her phone, her thumbs flying across the screen. A smug, greedy smile was plastered on her face.

The bait was taken. The poison was in Kyle's hands.

Elliana turned away from the window. She walked over to the crystal decanters on the side table. She poured two fingers of amber whiskey into a heavy glass.

She raised the glass toward the empty room in a silent toast.

She tipped her head back and swallowed the liquor. The alcohol burned a hot trail down her throat, warming her chest.

She walked back to the desk. She picked up the notebook, ripped the page out, and tore it into tiny, unrecognizable shreds.

She dropped the pieces into the metal trash can. She watched them fall like snow. Marta was the only witness to the trap, and a maid's frantic, baseless testimony would hold absolutely zero weight in Devontae's eyes once the damage was done. By destroying the page now, when Kyle destroyed her own life at the gala, there would be no physical evidence tying the fake information back to Elliana.

She set the empty glass down. Her eyes hardened. It was time to deal with her husband.