The plan hadn't even gotten off the ground before news broke that Lydia had been beaten and was now in the hospital. Whitney laughed into her pillow for a good half hour. And when she heard Lydia had lost her precious lead role too? She pounced, funneling money straight into the troupe to boost Lydia's biggest rival. While Lydia lay in recovery, Whitney was busy stripping her bare—snatching every resource, every chance, every ounce of spotlight she could. And somehow, she still found time to swing by the hospital, just to twist the knife until Lydia practically coughed up blood. So while Claudia and Sterling spent their days quietly wrapped in peace, Lydia's life had turned into pure hell. What cut deepest wasn't even the beating—it was Clarence. He'd left, vowing to hold Claudia accountable. But when he came back, his face was heavy, distracted. He had a few hushed words with Wilson and Lottie—and that was it. No punishment. No justice. For three days straight, the whole family went dark. No phones. No calls. No contact. If it had stopped there, Lydia might've swallowed it. But what terrified her was seeing the Lancasters slowly start to soften toward Claudia. After their initial outrage, Wilson and Lottie began to realize just how brutal their own reactions had been. If they kept pushing, Claudia might actually walk away for good. And she could—she was an adult now. A Lancaster by blood. The future Mrs. Fenton, in everyone's eyes. It was long past time she was properly introduced to society. For years, she'd kept out of the public eye. Most people only knew her name through gossip—unruly, hard to deal with, temperamental. Half the city didn't even know the Lancasters had another daughter besides Lydia. That, Wilson and Lottie decided, had to change. Lydia overheard them one night, quietly discussing how to make things right. They'd throw a birthday banquet for Claudia this year—an official debut to present her to the world. But Claudia's birthday… fell on Zoey's death anniversary. She hadn't celebrated since she was six. Her birthday parties had always been Lydia's. This year, the banquet would take place three days after Zoey's memorial. Lydia's hands tightened around her blanket. Claudia's face flashed through her mind—those rose-petal features, that unbending spine she'd never managed to crush. The more Lydia thought about it, the more resentment boiled inside her. Her whole life had been built on her mother's death. So why the hell did Claudia—the one who caused it—get to live happily ever after? Watching her family smile and plan Claudia's big night, Lydia's lips slowly curled into something sharp. "Blood ties can't be cut, huh? Then I'll do it for you," she whispered. "Claudia, I'll give you a birthday you'll never forget." ... Across town, Whitney's voice was tight with worry over the phone. "Claudia, you're really going back this year?" Given how bad things were with the Lancasters, Lydia was bound to pull something again. "Yes," Claudia said calmly. "Don't worry. I'll be fine.""Then I'm going with you." "No need. I can handle it. If anything happens, I'll call you." Whitney was all fire and temper—if things went sideways, she'd be the first to swing. Claudia could handle being called ungrateful, rebellious, a disgrace… but she couldn't let Whitney get dragged down too. Not with that viper of a stepmother and her snake of a stepbrother watching for any opening. So Whitney finally backed off, though she kept reminding Claudia over and over like a broken record. It felt like Claudia was walking straight into a dragon's den. Claudia only smiled, a quiet warmth blooming in her chest. After hanging up, she stepped into the living room. Empty. Sterling was gone again. He'd nearly recovered now. Though he hadn't returned to the public eye, his absences were growing longer by the day. He hadn't even bothered to hide his name. Claudia knew exactly which Romero he was. Once, she'd thought his low profile came from humility. Now, she knew better—it was survival. She was sure of it: behind his spotless public empire, Sterling's hands were deep in darker business. And the Romeros? Even worse than her own family. Everyone knew about the chaos—the kidnappings, the staged "accidents," the tax scandals. With Sterling gone, the whole nest of snakes had come alive. Without his iron control, greed had exploded. Donovan had already been rushed to the ER several times from the stress. Now the heirs were tearing each other apart over who'd inherit the throne.But none of that had anything to do with Claudia. She finished her manuscript, settled onto the couch, and sent Sterling a quick message: "Coming home for dinner?" ... In a blood-slick basement across town, Henry—the most ambitious one of late—lay slumped in his own filth, barely breathing. Three meters away, his son Tyson sat tied to a chair, blindfolded and screaming like a wounded animal.