I spun around, my vision swimming. Sophia stood there, a cold glint in her eyes as she tightened her grip on the baseball bat.

"You…" I managed to choke out before my legs buckled beneath me. The metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth.

"Sorry, sis," Sophia said, though her tone carried no remorse whatsoever. "But I can't let you ruin this for me."

She crouched beside me, tilting her head like she was examining something mildly interesting.

"Vincent was supposed to be mine. Do you know how long I planned? How many dinners I attended, how many dresses I bought, how many conversations I rehearsed — all to catch his eye?"

I tried to speak, but the pain in the back of my head was blinding.

"And then he saw you. You, who weren't even trying. You, who showed up to Dad's charity gala in a secondhand dress with your hair barely brushed."

She laughed bitterly.

"He watched you all night. Didn't even glance at me."

I remembered that night differently. I'd been serving drinks at the gala — not as a guest, but as part of the catering staff Dad had hired from my mother's side. I wasn't supposed to be seen.

But Vincent Rossi saw me.

"So when he sent word that he wanted the eldest daughter," Sophia continued, standing back up, "I knew I had to act fast."

She set the bat against the wall almost casually.

"The sleeping pills were easy. Getting you into that car was harder — you're heavier than you look."

My blood ran cold. For five years, I'd believed it was a misunderstanding. That my family had simply been afraid and sacrificed me out of fear. Not this. Never this.

"Mom and Dad know," I whispered.

"Of course they know. Who do you think bought the sleeping pills?"

The room tilted. Not from the blow to my head — from the realization that I had never been family to them. I was currency. A bargaining chip swapped in for the daughter they actually loved.

"Why are you telling me this now?"

Sophia smiled. "Because Vincent filed for divorce last week. And when it goes through, he's going to need a new wife."

"You think he'll choose you?"

"I think he'll choose whoever I tell him to choose." She reached into her purse and pulled out a folder. "I've been collecting things, Chloe. Photos, recordings, financial documents. Vincent Rossi isn't as clean as he pretends to be."

"You're going to blackmail a crime lord."

"I'm going to negotiate with one. There's a difference."

I heard footsteps on the stairs. Heavy, deliberate.

Sophia's confidence faltered for the first time. She grabbed the bat again.

The door burst open.

Vincent stood in the doorway, his dark eyes taking in the scene with the cold precision of a man who'd seen much worse. His gaze moved from Sophia, to the bat, to me on the floor.

"Interesting," he said.

That single word carried more danger than a loaded gun.