Chapter 6

Everyone said Percival was a goner—terminally ill, a man circling the drain, lucky to make it through the month. But her reaction was cool as a cucumber, unmannered.

And yet. Odalys’s words landed like a punch to the gut, leaving him shaken in a way he hadn’t expected. He swallowed hard, giving her a small nod. His voice was low, steady. “Come in. Make yourself comfortable. If you need anything, talk to Dorian. Whatever it is, they’ll sort it out. No fuss.”

With that, Percival turned and strode toward the door, his broad shoulders cutting a path of unshakable authority.

Odalys tilted her head, her gaze following him. Surprise flickered in her eyes, quick but unmistakable. She’d been ready for him to push back, maybe even scoff at her audacity. Her words—that list—should have sparked questions. But he hadn’t even blinked. He’d taken it all at face value, trusting her as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“What kind of man does that?” she thought. Calm under pressure, rock-solid, the picture of maturity. He wasn’t anything like the flashy, spoiled heirs she’d encountered before. But that composure wasn’t just strength; it hinted at something deeper. This was a man with layers, sharp as a knife, and just as dangerous.

In truth, she barely remembered Percival. Back then, she hadn’t even lived long enough to meet him. She’d died before their arranged marriage could take place. All she knew was what people said: the Stewart family was untouchable, the pinnacle of wealth and power in Crownridge. But their empire had started crumbling under the weight of Percival’s illness. Had he recovered in the end? She honestly had no clue.

Her gaze lingered on the door for a moment before she let out a small breath and dropped onto the bed. The peace didn’t last. Her phone buzzed—a sharp ding, then another, then another. Notifications poured in like a storm, each one more biting than the last.

Some demanded explanations: “Why’d you piss off Hannah Bennett? Why’d you take the betrothal gifts?” Others didn’t even bother with pretense, accusing her outright: “You bullied Sophia to the point of attempting suicide. What kind of monster are you?”

Odalys stared at the screen, her face emotionless. Inside, she felt nothing. Whatever ties she’d once had to the Bennetts had died with her. But these messages weren’t just noise. They were a cold reminder: breaking free from the Bennetts wasn’t just about walking away. If she wanted her freedom, she’d have to burn every last bridge.

Without missing a beat, she dialed her assistant. “It’s me. Since joining the Bennett Group, how many contracts have I signed?”

The response was immediate, curt, and dripping with disdain. “Contracts! Oh, you mean those insurance forms? Just a few, nothing major.”

Her chest tightened. Memories surfaced, hazy but undeniable. She’d signed papers when she first returned to the Bennett family, believing they were standard insurance forms. But now, the truth was glaringly obvious.

“Send me copies of everything I’ve signed,” she said, her voice sharp.

The assistant let out an audible sigh before the call ended abruptly. A few minutes later, her inbox pinged with an email. Odalys opened the file, her fingers trembling. She skimmed through the documents, her heart sinking deeper with every line. They were high-value accident insurance policies. And the beneficiary was always the same: Sophia Bennett.

Her breath hitched. If something happened to her—an accident, a “tragedy”—Sophia would walk away with a staggering $70 million. She felt a chill. In her past life, she’d gone to her grave without ever knowing any of this.

All those times they’d pushed her, cornered her, and humiliated her? That wasn’t about the wedding. They didn’t want her married. They wanted her dead!

It all made sense now. From the moment she stepped foot back into the Bennett household, they’d never planned on letting her walk out alive. Her chest tightened, a dull ache that had nothing to do with shock. It was heartbreak, plain and simple. These weren’t strangers; they were her family.

Chapter 6

“But why? Why the hell would they do this?” The thought burned in her wound, relentless and bitter. Their laughter—their flesh-and-blood daughter, the one they’d spent years searching for. What could possibly justify this kind of betrayal? Was it really all about the damn money?

Her hand trembled as she opened the final document: the contract she’d signed with Bennett Entertainment. The terms were clear; the agreement was set to expire in two weeks. If she wanted out early, she’d owe a jaw-dropping billion dollars in damages.

“Damn it!” Odalys bolted upright from the bed, her blood boiling. The Bennetts’ shamelessness was infuriating, but what really stung was how stupid she’d been. Gullible. Naive. A sitting duck for their schemes.

Her phone buzzed, cutting through her rage. She picked it up, and her assistant’s voice greeted her. “We’ve got you signed up for a variety show. You start tomorrow. By the time it’s done, your contract will be up.”

Odalys’s eyes narrowed. The words sent a prickle of unease through her. She wasn’t stupid enough to think this was just a coincidence.

But break the contract? Not a chance. A billion-dollar penalty was one thing, but she wasn’t giving the Bennetts even a single cent. Throwing her into a show right after an arranged marriage? The setup was obvious. They were baiting her into a trap. But Odalys would jump in willingly—then flip the table on them.

“Give me the details,” she said, her voice frosty. The assistant barely acknowledged her before hanging up. Minutes later, her inbox pinged. She opened the attachment, skimming through the information. Her brows arched slightly. This wasn’t just any variety show—it was a survival program. Celebrities dumped on a deserted island with minimal supplies, their struggles broadcast live. Basically, a glorified Survivor.

Her gaze caught on an attached document detailing an accident insurance policy. The payout was massive. A cold smile tugged at her lips. She quickly backed up the files to her email, her eyes gleaming with mockery.

“So that’s your plan,” she murmured. “Marry me off, then ship me to an island where I can conveniently disappear. Nice try, Bennetts.”

The pieces of their plan clicked into place, as clear as day. For the past seven months, the Bennetts hadn’t treated her as human. They hadn’t supported her, hadn’t cared for her—they’d only seen dollar signs. Signing her to their company had never been about her career. It was about setting her up to fail, to breach her contract so they could pocket the penalties.

And she’d fallen for it. Like a fool, she’d stayed. She’d even agreed to the marriage. And now this? Signing her up for this show was nothing but a death sentence, with the insurance money as their reward.

The sheer audacity almost made her laugh. They were desperate to get rid of her, but Odalys wasn’t the same naive girl they’d played before. Oddly enough, her mood lifted. “If they want a game, I’ll play. Let’s see who wins.”

Smirking, she lay back down, letting the quiet room soothe her anger. Within minutes, she drifted into a surprisingly peaceful sleep.

Meanwhile, sunlight poured into the side hall of the Stewart estate, streaking the table with golden warmth. The room’s calm, vintage charm was abruptly disrupted by hurried footsteps. A man stormed in, clutching a stack of papers that trembled in his hand. “What the hell is this prescription? Where’d you get it? I showed it to my grandfather; he says it works.”

“This isn’t something your average quack could come up with,” he continued, his voice laced with urgency. “It won’t cure the poison, but it can suppress it for now.” He slapped the documents onto the table and leaned forward, his excitement barely contained.

Percival sat across from him, silent. His long fingers tapped a slow rhythm against the table.

“And another thing,” the man added, his voice rising. “Your blood test results—they show the toxin’s been partially neutralized. No way around it; whoever did this is a fucking genius. The poison was already in your bloodstream, and they still managed to knock it back. Do you even know how insane that is?”

2:42 PM

Chapter 6

Orson Lark’s tone grew louder, his excitement palpable. “They said you wouldn’t last the month. But now? Hell, man, you’ve got a shot. You might actually pull through, Percival.”

Percival’s gaze dropped to the test results in his hand, his expression calm but unreadable. After a long moment, he reached for his iPad, handing it over to Orson.

SEND GIFT