"I see Aiden picked up a stray," she stated.
I crossed my arms. "And you are?"
She walked right up to me, stopping just shy of my space. "The woman he's supposed to marry—and eventually will."
I blinked and suddenly burst into laughter. Not because it was funny, but because it was insulting.
"Oh, excuse me," I said in a falsely honeyed voice, "but that ship has already sailed while you're still plotting our supposed divorce."
Her lips twitched at the corners—just enough to let me know I'd struck a nerve.
I knew her type the second I saw her.
She wasn't just some ex or scorned flame. No, this one looked like she had a history—entitlement.
She was probably the kind of woman who'd been groomed since childhood to believe that she was the only one worthy of a man like Aiden Stark Frost. And now that her little fantasy had been interrupted, well, the bitch didn't take kindly to that.
She took a slow step toward me, stilettos clicking against the tiles and her chin raised with the kind of elegance that had probably been trained into her at birth.
"I'm sure you're enjoying your little moment in the spotlight," she said in an icy tone. "But let's be honest. You're a placeholder. Everyone knows it."
A placeholder.
The words didn't sting as much as she probably hoped they would.
Because I'd heard worse.
I grew up in a family that praised obedience, not success. Love was like a transaction, and self-worth was tied to the financial value you added. Being underestimated was familiar—almost comfortable.
But that didn't mean I'd let her walk over me.
I smiled sweetly, folding my arms. "Funny. Last I checked, I'm at least holding a place. I can't say the same for you, sweetie."
Her nostrils flared ever so slightly. "And do you think that'll keep you beside him? Aiden doesn't do soft. Or sentimental. He doesn't do you."
I leaned in, voice dropping just enough to make sure she heard every word. "News flash, he doesn't do you either, apparently."
Her eyes flashed.
There it was.
Her composure cracked for a heartbeat—just long enough for me to see the rage simmering beneath that frosted facade. That simmering, entitled fury of someone who thought they were inevitable and was now faced with reality.
I took a step closer.
"I don't care who you were, missy," I enunciated, "or what you thought you were promised and owed, because here's the truth—whatever game you were playing? I already won."
I expected her to slap me or scream. Tear at the pearls around her neck like a dramatic heiress having a meltdown.
But instead?
She smiled.
And that smile was worse. "You think this is permanent?"
I tilted my head. "Well, I have the marriage certificate, diamond ring, and the man himself tucking me into a mansion. So yeah, pretty sure it's not temporary."
Even though I knew it was just for a year, I couldn't give her the satisfaction. I won't.
She took a slow step closer, eyes raking me from head to toe. "You must feel so special thinking a man like Aiden Frost would settle for a charity case."
"Charity?" I echoed, raising a brow. "That's rich coming from someone who just waltzed into his house uninvited."
"I don't need an invitation," she replied coolly. "This place? It was practically designed with me in mind. I know the halls. The wine cellar. The bedroom."
I smiled, a slow curl of lips that didn't reach my eyes. "You know what I love most about men like Aiden?"
Elena blinked, clearly not expecting that.
"They don't keep leftovers."
That did it.
The cold in her expression shifted, cracking around the edges. "You don't belong here," she said flatly.
"Then stop showing up unannounced. It's embarrassing even for someone as slow-brained as you."
We were the same height, but somehow I stood taller.
The truth was, I was surprised—but only for a second. I'd known there'd be others.
Of course there were. A handsome and eligible billionaire like Aiden Stark Frost did not go through life without making things burn and hearts break. The real surprise was that one of them thought she still had a claim.
But I wasn't the kind of woman who felt threatened.
I wasn't a doe-eyed, soft-spoken debutante who curled up the moment another entitled woman bared her teeth.
Growing up, I sat in boardrooms and at dinner tables where the outcome of multibillion-dollar mergers depended on who could keep their cool the most.
I wasn't just a girl with a ring on my finger.
I was the threat.
It's obvious she wasn't used to being challenged. Her confidence wasn't built on reality; it was constructed from years of entitlement. The kind of belief that men like Aiden were just waiting for her to get the timing right.
I took a step past her, slowly, like I had all the time in the world.
"Here's the thing, miss." I kept my tone polite, like we were discussing party favours. "You want him? Go ahead. Try."
She turned, narrowing her gaze at me.
"Just be ready to be rejected."
That landed. I saw it in the twitch of her jaw, the way her fingers clenched around the handle of her absurdly overpriced purse.
Good.
I was halfway up the stairs when I heard her voice again.
"You think he loves you?" She grasped at loose straws, keeping her voice filled with more venom than frost. "You think he chose you? He'll dump you like he did the rest. It's all a cycle for him. And at the end, there's one person who's here to receive him. ME."
I turned, slowly.
"You know," I said, cocking my head as if pondering something of great importance, "from what you just described, the only advice I have for you is…"
I let the pause hang in the air, letting her stew in it.
"…seek therapy."
Elena's mouth twitched.
Not the amused kind. No, this one was twitching from pure restraint. Her jaw tensed like she was fighting the urge to pounce.
And to be honest?
I kind of hoped she would.
Because nothing would give me more pleasure than to slap the frost off her cheekbones and send her designer heels skittering across the marble.
I didn't even flinch when she stepped forward again. Her hand fiddled at her side like she really was about to raise it.
Do it, I dared her silently. Let me give the paparazzi something to really talk about.
But before she could act on the tantrum swelling in her throat—
"Elena."