Chapter 3: Riches, Rivalry, and Revenge

For the next three days after marrying Gregory Harlan, my Instagram feed was wall-to-wall Savannah. She’d always loved showing off, but now she was posting ten times a day, all about her amazing new fiancé. She was trying to rub it in—might as well have pinned "My marriage is better than Autumn’s" to the top of her profile.

Her captions were so over-the-top, even her followers started rolling their eyes. I muted her stories, but she still found ways to pop up in my feed. There was no escape.

On the third day after my wedding, I got a DM from her: "Autumn, want to come for afternoon tea? Grandma, Grandpa, Uncle, Aunt—they’re all here. We’re all married now, let’s talk about married life."

She added a bunch of heart emojis, but the message dripped with sarcasm. I could practically hear her voice.

I rolled my eyes and was about to reply when another message popped up: "Oh right, I know you’re broke, so it’s on me."

She sent a location: The Stonemont Hotel.

The name sounded familiar, like I’d seen it somewhere before. I was still puzzling over it when my husband shuffled in, handing me a hard-boiled egg. The moment our hands touched, the vision hit me again.

Half an hour later, his late grandfather’s personal butler would pick him up at the Stonemont Hotel to inherit the family’s billions. Turns out, the Stonemont belonged to his grandfather. The pieces clicked into place.

The irony was almost too much. Savannah had no idea she was inviting me to my own hotel.

Well, this was going to be interesting.

I grinned, picturing the look on Savannah’s face when she realized the truth. It was almost worth all the drama.

I typed back to Savannah: "No need. That hotel’s mine. Eat whatever you want—it’s on me."

I hit send, then leaned back and waited for the fireworks. This was going to be good.

After sending the message, I looked at my husband. He looked a little embarrassed under my stare. Before he could say a word, I dragged him to the bedroom. If you’re about to inherit billions, you can’t look like a bum—you have to look the part.

He protested as I picked out a suit, but I ignored him, smoothing his hair and fixing his tie. By the end, he looked like a whole new man. I almost didn’t recognize him.

While I was helping him change, my phone wouldn’t stop buzzing. Obviously, Savannah was blowing up my messages. I ignored her, and half an hour later, the doorbell rang.

I peeked through the peephole and saw a man in a crisp tailcoat, straight out of a movie. He bowed and introduced himself as the butler. I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing.

A man in a tailcoat bowed respectfully to my husband, then led us to the Stonemont. Outside, a row of cameras lined up like cannons. As soon as my husband stepped out, reporters swarmed him with questions. He looked shell-shocked, but the butler swept us to the penthouse before anyone could get too close.

Two hours later, my husband went from a penniless old man to the richest man in Chicago. Just like that.

It happened so fast, it barely felt real. One minute he was fumbling with his tie, the next he was signing papers worth more than the GDP of some countries. My head spun.

Once everything was settled, I checked my phone. The news was already trending, and my Facebook Messenger had exploded. Everyone who knew me messaged me. My phone felt like it might melt.

Old classmates, distant cousins, even my third-grade teacher—everyone wanted a piece of the story. My notifications wouldn’t stop pinging. I almost threw my phone out the window.

I skipped over most of them and went straight to Savannah’s chat—99+ messages, perfectly recording her journey from mocking me to total shock. Her last message read: "Your husband’s that rich?"

I almost felt bad for her. Almost.

I was about to reply when a few figures appeared in front of me. They greeted me warmly, hugging my arm. I braced myself.

Aunt Linda, Uncle Ray, Cousin Molly—suddenly, I was everyone’s favorite. They clung to me like I was made of gold. It was nauseating.

"Autumn, Auntie always knew you had good taste—you’ve always been so smart! And now you’ve married so well."

"Your cousin’s counting on you now, Autumn—find him a good job, okay?"

"Didn’t I say Autumn would do well? Look at her now—what a great marriage!"

Their voices blurred together, each one more insincere than the last. I forced a smile, wishing I could disappear into the carpet.

The same relatives who mocked me three days ago now surrounded me. I looked up and caught Savannah’s furious glare. Beside her, Trent stared at me like a wolf sizing up dinner. When I caught his eye, he looked away fast.

Savannah’s eyes burned with jealousy. Trent’s gaze was cold and calculating. A shiver crept down my spine.

A bad feeling crept over me. When I looked at Savannah again, the clock above her head was gone, replaced by a countdown on my wrist. Seven days.

It ticked away, silent but relentless. My heart pounded in my chest. I couldn’t shake the dread.

Turning back, I saw the clock above my husband’s head had changed too—from fifteen days to five. The numbers glowed, mocking me. Fate was closing in.

Suddenly, a memory flashed through my mind: Savannah and Trent knocking me out and tossing me in a car, along with my husband. When I woke up, I was in a pitch-black room, tortured daily. Savannah came to mock me more than once. In the end, I was beaten to death. Just before I died, I heard her say, "Why should you always have it better than me? You deserve to die. I’ll enjoy the riches you should’ve had—rest in peace."

The memory was so vivid, I could feel the bruises on my skin, the ache in my bones. I shuddered, fighting the urge to bolt from the room.

"Hey, Autumn, why so quiet? Are you so happy you’re speechless?"

My cousin nudged me, snapping me out of it. My forehead was slick with cold sweat. When I looked up again, Savannah and Trent were gone.

I wiped my brow, forcing a shaky smile. I needed to get out of there—fast.

I had to figure out what changed the course of fate between me and Savannah. Something was off, and I needed answers.

Something had shifted, and I was determined to find out what. I wasn’t letting fate take me down without a fight.

After brushing off the relatives, I told my husband to head home alone and secretly followed Savannah back to her place. She hadn’t moved yet—she and Trent still lived in her old apartment. The walls were thin, and I heard a bowl smash on the floor inside.