The Carter Foundation Gala.
Funny how one night could mean so many things depending on the version of me that showed up.
In my old life, I thought it was magic, lights, lace, luxury. I remembered standing on that red carpet, trembling from nerves, hoping Julian would notice me.
He did.
And he used me like everyone else.
Now, I was back. New soul, same face. But this time, the trembling was gone. My skin was steady. My heart, cold.
I was here to make him notice me again.
But for a different reason.
My entrance was intentional—slow, graceful, the kind that demanded attention without begging for it. I'd spent hours picking the dress: emerald green, satin, dangerously low back. The same one I wore the night I caught Julian whispering sweet promises to Bianca Cruz behind a marble column.
I'd replayed that betrayal too many times to forget.
Tonight, the dress wasn't a symbol of desperation.
It was war paint.
The moment I stepped into the ballroom, I felt it: a ripple.
I didn't even have to look to know eyes were turning.
Let them stare.
Let them wonder.
I wasn't here to be loved. I was here to haunt the people who killed me.
A waiter offered me a glass of champagne. I took it with a nod, the stem cool against my fingers. From across the room, the chandeliers cast a golden glow over everything, like the whole place was dipped in illusion.
And then I saw him.
Julian Carter.
My murderer in a suit.
He stood near the gallery wing, his body angled toward a group of board members, pretending to listen while his eyes scanned the crowd.
When he saw me, his gaze locked in place.
My pulse didn't spike. My fingers didn't tremble.
I took a sip of champagne, then turned away as if he wasn't worth a second glance.
But I felt the weight of his stare.
It followed me.
I drifted through the room like smoke—untouchable, curious, cold. Every step was calculated. Every fake smile was strategy.
System prompt: Mission Objective Activated – "Leave a lasting impression on Julian Carter. Bonus: Interfere with Cruz-Carter engagement."
Challenge accepted.
Near the central fountain, a small crowd had gathered. As I passed, I heard whispers, fragments of my name.
"Ariella Grey?"
"Didn't she disappear for a year?"
"I heard she had a breakdown…"
Perfect. Let them talk. Let them guess. The more confused they were, the more power I had.
Then, he moved.
I felt him before I saw him, his presence slid through the room like heat. When he stopped behind me, I didn't turn right away. I let the silence stretch, charged with history neither of us acknowledged.
"You're not easy to miss," he finally said, his voice smooth like the scotch he always drank. "New look?"
I glanced at him, letting a half-smile ghost across my lips. "Not new. Just… refined."
He tilted his head. "Ariella, right?"
"Oh, you remember."
"Hard to forget a face like yours."
Liar.
"You forgot fast enough when Bianca slid into your bed," I wanted to say.
Instead, I let the silence answer for me. Then, I stepped closer, lowering my voice.
"I know about the merger," I whispered.
That wiped the smirk off his face.
His brow twitched. Just a flicker. But I caught it.
"Not many people know about that," he said carefully.
"Not many people read as well as I do."
Julian studied me now, not like a man watching a pretty girl, but like someone trying to solve a puzzle. Good. Let him try.
"You've changed," he said slowly.
"So have you," I replied. "You got better at pretending."
He stiffened slightly. Just enough to tell me I hit a nerve.
System ping: Julian Carter – Curiosity +10 | Alertness +5 | Romantic Interest: Budding
I turned away again, letting my hand trail over the marble of the fountain's edge.
"I'll see you around, Mr. Carter."
I found the balcony fifteen minutes later, needing air, or maybe just distance. The city stretched beyond the rails, glittering like temptation. For a second, I let myself breathe.
Then his voice slid through the night.
"You always liked the quiet corners."
I didn't move. "You always liked interrupting them."
Julian joined me at the rail, hands in his pockets, gaze trained on the skyline.
"I was surprised to see you," he admitted. "No one's heard from you in months."
"I like disappearing. It makes the return more fun."
He glanced sideways at me. "What are you doing here, really?"
I smiled. "What makes you think I have an agenda?"
"Because everyone does."
Including you, I thought.
Instead, I said, "Let's just say I'm enjoying the scenery."
"I'm flattered," he replied, half-charming, half-wary.
I turned toward him, letting the wind tug at my dress.
"Don't be. I came here to haunt a ghost, not flirt with one."
That made him pause.
Then—
"Julian!"
Bianca's voice broke through the night like cheap perfume—sweet, cloying, fake.
She stepped onto the balcony in silver sequins, fake lashes, and a smile that didn't reach her eyes. The moment she saw me, her face twisted. Subtle, but there.
"Who's this?" she asked.
Julian hesitated. "Bianca, this is Ariella. Ariella Grey."
Bianca's eyes flicked up and down my body.
"Oh," she said flatly. "You're the… old friend."
"I prefer the term 'resurrected legend,' but sure," I replied with a lazy grin.
Julian snorted. Bianca didn't.
Her grip on his arm tightened. "We should go. The announcement's starting soon."
I took a step closer, lowered my voice.
"Break a leg, Bianca. Or a fortune."
Her eyes narrowed.
System Notification: Rivalry Unlocked – Bianca Cruz. Engagement Timeline Destabilized.
As they walked away, Julian looked back once.
And I knew I had him.
Not as a lover.
As a pawn.