Enough to uncover the truth about what had happened all those years ago.
Enough to get my revenge.
Arthur smiled and ruffled my hair.
"When I first found you, you looked like a stray cat dragged through a storm."
"Hard to believe it's already been seven years."
"Well, now that you're back in Seaview City, do whatever you need to do. Don't hold back."
He raised his glass to me, calm and unhurried, every inch the gentleman.
"I'll have your back."
I nodded again and raised my glass in return.
"Some debts can never be repaid."
My gaze drifted to the photograph of Lucille Harding hanging on the wall, and the warmth bled from my eyes.
Maybe they were right.
Lucille Harding should have died seven years ago.
What crawled out of that wreckage was something else entirely. A vengeful ghost, risen from hell with one purpose.
A few days after returning, I hosted a gala under the name Mrs. Stephens, inviting every person of influence in Seaview City.
Jackson Gilbert and Millicent were on the guest list.
They were delighted.
Seven years as Mrs. Gilbert had transformed Millicent. She was no longer the penniless girl she'd once been. Wealth had draped her in gold and diamonds and given her the polished air of old money.
But standing in the glittering ballroom, she still couldn't help glancing around, wide-eyed and curious, like a child at her first black-tie event.
"Jackson, who exactly is this Arthur Stephens?"
Jackson chuckled.
"You've never heard of him?"
"Arthur Stephens. Sole heir to the Stephens Group. He controls development rights to half of Southgate. Even the Gilbert family has to stay on his good side if we want contracts in Seaview City."
Jackson glanced down at the woman beside him, whose expression had shifted.
The smile on his lips cooled.
"And that's just the surface. The Stephens family runs deeper than you can imagine."
"Point is, don't cross him."
Millicent stopped walking. Her gaze locked onto me across the room, where I stood chatting with a circle of guests.
"What about his wife, Sophia Simmons? First time meeting her and she's already so cold. She doesn't exactly seem approachable. And I keep feeling like..."
"Like what?"
"Like she reminds me of someone. Lucille Harding."
Jackson's face darkened instantly.
"Don't ever say that again."
"Lucille is dead. She's been dead for years."