Chapter 1The Serpent's Smile

Three years of quiet recuperation in Europe were shattered by a single, explosive livestream.

The title was pure clickbait, designed to snag eyeballs: [A-LIST STAR DESTROYS B-MOVIE ACTRESS—SCENES YOU WON'T BELIEVE!]

I was about to scoff at the tabloid trash when the face on the screen resolved into focus. The so-called B-movie actress, the woman they were tearing apart, was none other than Anya—my best friend, the one I’d left behind to chase her dreams in the glittering, venomous world of Hollywood.

And she was on her knees, trembling, her clothes nearly ripped from her body.

The backdrop was horrifyingly familiar. It was the sprawling Hamptons estate I’d lent her, a ten-million-dollar sanctuary now turned into a public pillory.

A circle of viciously beautiful starlets, dressed in garish designer clothes, swarmed her.

“What do you mean, your ‘best friend’s’ mansion?” one of them sneered, her voice dripping with condescension. “Everyone knows Lila’s new boyfriend, Mr. Vance, gave her this estate for the shoot!”

A woman in a pristine white dress, clearly the queen bee, stepped forward. Lila. She played the part of the gracious host, her expression a mask of feigned sympathy.

“This beautiful home was a gift from Julian,” she purred, her eyes glittering with malice. “But if you’re desperate to come inside, I suppose there’s a way. You could always… crawl. After all,” she added, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “you’re used to baring it all for an audience, aren’t you? An actress of your… caliber… should be comfortable with that.”

The comments section scrolled by in a blur of cruelty.

[LILA IS A QUEEN! YES! Put that trash in her place!]

[Her 'best friend' is probably some sugar daddy's mistress too!]

Mr. Vance? Julian Vance?

My fiancé?

A cold fury, sharp and sudden, pierced through my shock. What stray cat had dragged herself onto my doorstep, claiming my home and tormenting my friend in my name?

I was seeing red. Without a second thought, I booked the first flight back to New York.

Then, I dialed my fiancé’s number.

“You have ten minutes,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “Get to the Havenmoor Estate. And you’re going to tell every single person there who this house really belongs to.”

* * *

By the time I clicked into the livestream, hoping to shower Anya with enough digital gifts to crash the server, the nightmare was already in full swing. There she was, holding the keys I’d given her, barred from entering the main gate.

No matter how many times she pleaded, her voice cracking, “This is my best friend’s house, she told me I could use it!” the security guards remained impassive statues.

“Mr. Vance’s orders are clear,” one of them stated, his voice flat. “Miss Lila is the host for today’s event.”

I felt a dizzying wave of confusion. This was supposed to be Anya’s big break—her debut on a hit reality show where the cast lives together in a location provided by one of the guests. I couldn’t be there to support her, but I’d made damn sure she’d have a backdrop that would make her shine. Havenmoor was worth more than the entire production budget.

So what the hell was happening?

The other starlets closed in on Anya like sharks sensing blood.

“An actress with your reputation, from your kind of films? What powerful friend could you possibly have?” one of them mocked.

“Don’t tell me she’s another bottom-feeder who slept her way to a bit part! She could afford this place? Don’t make me laugh! Julian gave this to Lila!”

“Your ‘best friend’ probably knows some producer who knows Julian, and you twisted that into this pathetic lie. It’s hilarious!”

Lila, in her angelic white dress, positioned herself as the mansion’s rightful mistress. She looked down at Anya, her face a perfect portrait of pity, but her eyes were dancing with triumph.

“Anya, darling, if you couldn’t secure a location, you should have just said so. We would have understood. There was no need to make up such a… desperate story. Claiming Julian’s gift to me belongs to your friend? It’s just embarrassing.”

Seeing Lila, Anya flinched, a conditioned reflex of fear. But then, a flicker of courage, likely fueled by thoughts of me, returned to her eyes.

“This estate really is my friend’s,” she insisted, her voice trembling but firm. “I have proof…”

She never got to finish. A glass of ice water flew through the air, soaking the front of her thin blouse. The fabric turned translucent, clinging to her skin and revealing the delicate lace of her bra.

The director and crew, instead of intervening, zoomed in. The camera lens became a predator, leering at Anya’s exposed and humiliated form.

Lila’s mask of innocence slipped, revealing a flash of pure contempt. She was the one who’d “accidentally” spilled the drink.

“Oh, clumsy me,” she said, her tone devoid of any real apology. “My hand slipped. But we can’t delay the shoot. Why don’t you just take that wet thing off before you come inside? Julian gave me this home, and I must take care of it. If you were to drip on the antiques… well, I doubt even selling yourself would cover the damages.”

She raked her eyes over Anya’s body and let out a small, cruel laugh. “Besides, you’re an actress who got her start in skin flicks. You must be used to using your body to get attention, right?”

All the color drained from Anya’s face. She mumbled a protest, but Lila’s posse was already on her, their manicured fingers clawing at her clothes.

The livestream chat erupted in a frenzy.

[DRAG HER! I’ve hated this slut forever!!]

[She’s such a cheap whore, always flaunting her body then pretending to be a victim. It’s disgusting!]

[Lila is the ultimate BS detector in this industry! Rip that fake innocent act right off her!]

I blinked, scrubbing at my eyes, convinced I was hallucinating. But no. The woman being savaged on screen was Anya. My Anya. And the stage for her torment was my home, Havenmoor Estate. The house my grandfather had gifted me after Julian Vance and I were engaged, the place I had bought and intended to be our marital home.

My name was on the deed. The purchase agreement was in my safe.

I’d followed my parents abroad after the engagement, wanting to spend more time with them as they settled into retirement. The house had sat empty, waiting for my return.

But even if I wasn’t living in it, what did that have to do with Lila and this "Mr. Vance" she was clinging to?

On the screen, Anya was losing the fight. The buttons on her soaked shirt gave way. She crossed her arms over her chest, a desperate, futile attempt to preserve the last shred of her dignity. Tears streamed down her face.

“Please,” she sobbed, “I’m done! I’ll quit the show! Just let me go, please!”

Lila’s laugh was a cold, sharp blade. “You signed a contract. You don’t just get to quit. As the host of this party, I’m in charge now. You have two options: strip naked and crawl inside, or pay the three-million-dollar breach of contract fee. Your choice.”

Seeing the absolute despair shatter Anya’s face, my vision went white with rage.

What vulture had dared to squat in my nest, to break my friend in my own home?

The flight couldn’t be fast enough.

I was coming home. And I was going to personally show them who the mistress of Havenmoor really was.