Sienna's POV
The yacht rocked gently under my feet as I stood on the deck, watching the sun sink toward the horizon. Beautiful. Peaceful. Perfect.
I should have known perfection was a lie.
Sienna? Damien called from below. Can you come down here for a second? I want to show you something.
I smiled, heading toward the cabin stairs. Maybe this trip would actually work. Maybe we could save our marriage after all.
The explosion threw me backward before I reached the bottom step.
Fire erupted from the engine room like a living thing, hungry and bright. The blast's force slammed me against the wall. Pain exploded through my shoulder. My ears rang so loud I couldn't hear my own screaming.
Damien! I choked on smoke, scrambling toward the cabin where he'd been. DAMIEN!
The door was closed. I grabbed the handle, locked.
No, no, no I pounded on the wood. Damien, open the door! DAMIEN!
Through the small window, I saw him in the cabin, phone pressed to his ear. His eyes met mine for one terrible second.
Then he turned away.
DAMIEN! I screamed, pounding harder. Please! The boat's on fire! Let me in!
He didn't move. Just stood there with his back to me, phone still at his ear, while flames crawled closer.
Understanding hit harder than the explosion.
He knew. He'd planned this. The locked door wasn't an accident.
My husband was letting me die.
The yacht tilted violently. Water rushed in from somewhere, mixing with fire in a nightmare of steam and smoke. I tried the door again—locked solid. Tried to break the window—reinforced glass.
Help! I screamed toward the empty ocean. SOMEBODY HELP ME!
The boat tilted further. I lost my footing, sliding across the deck as water poured in. The fire reached the fuel tanks.
The second explosion was bigger.
I felt myself flying, felt the heat consuming my back and arms, felt the water swallow me whole. Down, down into darkness and cold and pain so complete I couldn't tell where my body ended and the ocean began.
This is how I die, I thought as water filled my lungs. Murdered by the man I loved.
Then, nothing.
got a pulse! Weak, but it's there!
Voices. Rough hands pulling me from water. Air forcing into my lungs.
I coughed, vomited seawater, gasped like a fish drowning in reverse.
Easy, easy. You're safe now. A man's voice, gruff but kind. I've got you.
I tried to open my eyes. One wouldn't open at all. The other showed only blurry shapes—a boat, a weathered face, hands covered in my blood.
My husband I croaked.
There's no one else. Just you and debris. What happened?
He tried to kill me. The words came out broken. He locked me... let me burn...
The man, Adrian, I'd learn later, went very still. The Coast Guard will ask questions. If someone wanted you dead, they'll try again. What do you want me to do?
Through my one working eye, I stared at this stranger who'd pulled me from my grave.
Hide me, I whispered. Let them think I died.
Eighteen months later
Ms. Park? Your account is ready.
I looked up from the paperwork, meeting the bank manager's eyes without flinching. He saw an elegant woman in a business suit. Short black hair, sharp cheekbones, confident smile.
He didn't see the scars hidden under my clothes. Didn't know my face had been rebuilt from shattered bone and burned flesh. Didn't know Selene Park was a ghost wearing a stranger's face.
Thank you, I said, my voice smooth. Not the raspy croak I'd had for the first six months. I'll be transferring funds from my previous accounts.
Previous accounts that didn't exist. Money Adrian had helped me acquire through means I didn't ask about. A new identity built on the ashes of my old life.
Of course. And congratulations on your new venture capital firm. Prometheus Capital—clever name.
Prometheus, who stole fire from the gods and was punished for it.
Phoenix, who burned and rose again.
Thank you, I repeated, signing the final document with my new signature. Selene Park. Not Sienna Chen. Never Sienna Chen again.
That woman was dead. Had died screaming in fire and water while her husband walked away.
I left the bank and returned to the apartment Adrian had secured—small, anonymous, filled with computers I'd taught myself to use during my recovery. My fingers, scarred and rebuilt, flew across the keyboard faster than they ever had when I was a prosecutor.
ARTEMIS—my creation, my weapon, my revenge, hummed to life.
Good afternoon, Sienna, the AI said through my speakers. I'd programmed it to use my real name in private. A reminder of who I'd been and why I was doing this.
Stock analysis on Zhao Technologies, I commanded.
Data flooded my screens. Damien's company had grown even bigger in the eighteen months since my death. Stock up 200%. New contracts. Glowing press coverage.
Display search: Damien Zhao personal life.
More data. Society page photos. Charity galas. And then
My blood turned to ice.
A wedding announcement from six months ago.
Tech Mogul Damien Zhao Weds in Private Ceremony
The photo showed Damien in a tuxedo, smiling. Beside him stood a young blonde woman, beautiful, delicate, glowing.
Victoria Lang. His executive assistant. The woman who'd hovered in the background at our anniversary party.
Six months after my death, he'd married her.
I stared at the photo until my vision blurred. My hands, scarred, rebuilt, trembling—clenched into fists so tight my nails drew blood from my palms.
Sienna? ARTEMIS's voice held something almost like concern. Your heart rate is elevated. Shall I
He mourned for six months, I whispered. Six months. Then he married his assistant and moved on like I never existed.
Like our marriage had meant nothing. Like my death had been inconvenient but ultimately beneficial.
I pulled up more photos. Saw him laughing at events. Saw Victoria on his arm, young and alive and everything I'd been before he'd tried to kill me.
ARTEMIS, I said, my voice steady despite the rage burning through my rebuilt body. Begin phase one of Operation Phoenix. I want every asset, every weakness, every secret about Zhao Technologies and Damien Zhao compiled within forty-eight hours.
Affirmative. May I ask the objective?
I smiled at my reflection in the dark computer screen—a stranger's face with dead eyes.
I'm going to destroy him. Slowly. Methodically. I'm going to take everything he loves and burn it to ash. I stood, looking out at the San Francisco skyline where his company's logo glowed like a beacon. He killed Sienna Chen. Now Selene Park is going to kill him.
Understood. Beginning data collection.
As ARTEMIS worked, I pulled up one final photo: Damien and Victoria at a gala last month, her hand resting on her stomach.
She was pregnant.
My hands shook as I zoomed in, confirming what I already knew. Three, maybe four months along based on the slight swell.
Damien was going to be a father.
The man who'd murdered his wife was starting a new family like I'd never existed.
Change of plans, ARTEMIS, I said softly. I want everything on Victoria Lang too. Where she came from. How they met. Everything.
Because something about her felt wrong. The timeline was too convenient. The wedding too quick.
One more thing, I added. Search for any connection between Victoria Lang and Marcus Chen.
Data flooded the screen.
My breath caught.
Victoria had worked for Marcus first. Before becoming Damien's assistant. Before our anniversary party. Before the yacht.
She'd been placed there. By Marcus.
Oh my God, I whispered, seeing the pattern. She's not his wife. She's his next victim.
And suddenly, my revenge became more complicated than I'd ever imagined.