When I rushed back to Alexander's apartment, the elevator doors opened to reveal an unexpected scene. Katherine Stanford was sitting on the sofa in the living room, looking unusually pale and tense. Alexander stood by the window with a serious expression.

"What happened?" I asked, eyeing Katherine warily.


"Tell her," Alexander said to Katherine.

Katherine looked up at me, fear in her eyes that I had never seen before. "Victoria has gone mad," she whispered. "She's planning to kill you."

I felt a chill. "What?"


"She hired someone," Katherine continued. "A professional killer. She said if she can't have the Haston family fortune, then no one can."

Alexander walked toward me. "Katherine came to me this morning with this news. I've increased security and contacted the police."


I looked at Katherine, narrowing my eyes suspiciously. "Why tell us? You've always been Victoria's ally."

Katherine smiled bitterly. "I was never her ally. I was her tool, just like Sophia." She paused. "My father owed Victoria a lot of money. She used that to control us."

"So you helped her frame me," I said, with anger in my voice. "You helped her plan to send me to a mental hospital."

"I had no choice," Katherine defended herself. "But murder? That's going too far. I can't be part of this."

Alexander interjected: "Whatever Katherine's motives were, her information seems to be genuine. My security team intercepted some communications confirming that someone has been hired to target you."

I sat down, trying to digest this information. Was Victoria really so desperate that she would kill me?

"We need a plan," I finally said. "If Victoria wants a war, then we'll give her a war."

Alexander nodded. "I already have an idea."

The plan was simple: use Victoria's desperation against herself. Katherine would pretend to still be her ally, telling her that I would be attending an art exhibition the following evening. Victoria would almost certainly notify the hitman she had hired. And we would be ready to catch him.

"It's too dangerous," my mother said worriedly when I told her the plan. "If something goes wrong..."

"It won't," I promised. "Alexander's security team will be there. The police will also be standing by nearby. This is our chance to end all of this."

The next evening, I walked into a gallery in downtown Manhattan wearing an eye-catching red dress. According to the plan, I was alone, looking unprotected.

The gallery was crowded, but I could feel someone watching me. I walked slowly through the exhibition, pretending to admire the artwork while staying alert.

Just as I stopped to look at an abstract painting, I sensed someone approaching.

"Beautiful piece, isn't it?" a strange male voice said.

I turned around to see a man in a dark suit standing behind me. He looked completely ordinary, which was exactly the appearance a professional killer would choose.

"Indeed," I answered, my heartbeat quickening.

"You're Ella Haston," he said, which wasn't a question.

"Yes," I confirmed. "And you are?"

"An admirer," he smiled as he said, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. "Perhaps we could chat in a quieter place?"

That was the signal. I nodded, following him toward the back door of the gallery. Just as we were about to reach it, Alexander suddenly appeared, blocking our path.

"Good evening," he said coldly.

The man was visibly surprised but quickly regained his composure. "Excuse me. I was about to take Miss Haston to see some private collections."

"I don't think so," Alexander said.

At that moment, security personnel emerged from all directions, surrounding us. The man, realizing he was trapped, suddenly drew a knife and grabbed me as a hostage.

"Don't move!" he shouted, knife pressed against my throat. "Or she dies!"

People in the gallery screamed and scattered in all directions. Alexander froze in place, cold fury flashing in his eyes.

"Let her go," his voice was low and dangerous. "Now."

"Let me leave," the man demanded. "Or I swear I'll kill her."

I felt the blade pressing against my skin, but I didn't panic. I knew what to do.

The moment the man was distracted, I jabbed my elbow into his stomach while stomping on his foot. He loosened his grip in pain, and I quickly broke free, then Alexander immediately rushed forward, landing a punch to his face.

Security personnel quickly took control of the situation, and the police also arrived at the scene.

As the police handcuffed the man, I walked toward him. "Who hired you?"

He remained silent.

"It doesn't matter," I said. "We know who it is. And she will pay for this."

The next morning, Victoria Haston was arrested for attempted murder. The hitman finally confessed, providing all the evidence of her hiring him.

The news quickly spread throughout the city. The Haston family was in the headlines again, but this time, the story ended with the triumph of justice.

I stood by the hospital window, looking at the sunlight outside. My father would be discharged today, returning to a home without Victoria. My mother was at home preparing a dinner to welcome him back. Everything seemed to finally be back on track.

"Are you okay?" Alexander's voice came from behind.

I turned to face him, smiling. "Better than ever."

He walked closer to me, with a gentleness in his eyes that I had never seen before. "You were very brave last night."

"I'm not afraid anymore," I said. "Victoria has taken too much from me. I won't let her take more."

Alexander reached out and gently touched my cheek. "You are the strongest person I've ever met, Ella Haston."

Our gazes met, and a silent understanding passed between us. In my past life, I fell in love with a man who didn't love me back. But this time, perhaps, things would be different.

"Thank you," I said softly. "For everything."

Alexander leaned forward, his lips gently touching mine. The kiss was tender and exploratory, unlike any kiss I remembered.

When we parted, there was a new determination in his eyes. "I want to know more about you, Ella. The real you. Not the Haston family daughter, not the artist, just... you."

I smiled, feeling a long-forgotten hope rising within me. "I think I would like that."

Just at that moment, my phone rang. It was Oliver.

"Ella," his voice was tense. "You need to come home immediately. Someone broke into your father's studio."

My heart sank. "Is it Victoria?"

"No," Oliver said. "It's Sophia. She's back."