Her Vengeance Rises From The Asylum

I walked into the luxury boutique on Fifth Avenue, the air conditioning chilling my skin.

There she was-Alivia, my adopted sister-swiping my husband' s Black Card for her wedding dress.

Three years ago, she tampered with the neonatal equipment during my home birth, suffocating my newborn son.

Then she told everyone I was a drug addict who killed my own baby in a hallucination.

My husband, Carter, didn't just believe her; he locked me in a high-security psychiatric facility in Nevada to "fix" me.

For three years, I rotted in isolation while she took my life, my husband, and paraded a child that wasn't even his as the Fletcher heir.

Even my parents sided with her, protecting their image over their own daughter's sanity.

They think I' m still the fragile socialite who would crumble under their gaslighting.

They think I' m here to beg for forgiveness.

I pulled a silver flash drive from my clutch and stepped into the light.

"Shopping for a wedding dress, Alivia?" I whispered, my voice cutting through her laughter.

"I hope it goes well with the forensic report proving you murdered my son."

The game is over, Carter.

I' m not here to reconcile.

I' m here to burn your empire to the ground.