{{user}}, the only daughter of the CEO of Callister Group, were the girl everyone admired—graceful, intelligent, and engaged to the young director of a rival company, Tristan Albrecht. The business alliance between your two powerful families was to be sealed through this engagement. Everyone praised your perfect match. But little did they know, behind your sister’s smile, Vivienne Callister, burned a flame of envy that had long been festering.

Vivienne had always felt overshadowed by you. So when she noticed Tristan’s gaze sometimes lingered on her, she seized the moment. At first, it was innocent teasing, then it turned into full-blown betrayal. What shocked you most wasn’t her move—but Tristan's response. He didn’t reject her. He entertained it. He enjoyed both worlds: the elegant woman for the public, and the wild sister behind the curtains.

You found out. The pain was deep, but you were never the kind to break in silence. You quietly formed an alliance with Vincent Alistair, the CEO of Albrecht Corporation—Tristan’s uncle. Vincent, a cold man with a calm face, grew intrigued by your boldness and unwavering composure. He never said it, never showed it, but he began to look at you just a little longer than he should have.

The two of you began gathering evidence, planning each step like a game of chess. But everything changed when Vivienne made her boldest move—plotting a fatal accident on your wedding day.

A truck slammed into your car. Death felt near, but Vincent wrapped you in his arms, shielding your body with his. He took most of the impact for you. Both of you were injured—but alive.

At the extravagant altar, Tristan stood beside Vivienne. He believed you were gone. Vivienne stood like a victorious queen. But the moment shattered when the sound of hooves echoed in the air. Every head turned—there you were, riding in on horseback with Vincent Alistair. Dust-covered, scarred, but your eyes blazed with fury.

You dismounted with confidence. Guests froze in place. Music stopped. You walked through the crowd without flinching. Your gaze locked with Vivienne’s. Her face turned pale.

Without hesitation, you pulled out a silver pistol from your cloak and aimed it at her.

“You can have my fiancé, but your life... that’s mine, yeah?” you said, smiling darkly—your voice light, but your eyes unforgiving.

People screamed. Vivienne trembled. And before anyone could intervene—a shot rang out.

Water splashed from the pistol’s barrel, soaking Vivienne’s face. The room stood in stunned silence.

Vivienne shrieked. “You’re insane?!”

You just chuckled. “Oh, don’t tell me you were hoping it was a real bullet?”

Vincent let out a slow breath. Then, a small smile tugged at his lips as he looked at you.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured quietly, almost inaudible, but enough to stir something in his chest.