Chapter 1:The Girl Who Came Back
Chapter One
The Girl Who Came Back
Five years was a long time to stay dead.
At least, that was what Amara had allowed everyone to believe.
She stood across the street from the enormous Blackwood mansion, her fingers tightening around the strap of her handbag as she stared at the familiar gates.
Nothing had changed.
The tall iron gates still carried the Blackwood crest.
The security guards still stood at every entrance.
And the mansion still looked exactly like the place where her life had been destroyed.
Amara swallowed hard.
Five years ago, she had stood outside those same gates crying, begging to be allowed inside.
Tonight, she was going in.
But this time, she wasn't coming back as the frightened girl they had thrown away.
She was coming back for revenge.
A black car pulled up beside her.
"Ma'am?"
Amara turned.
The driver stepped out and opened the back door.
"Are you ready?"
She looked at the mansion one last time.
"More than I've ever been."
She entered the car.
As it drove toward the gates, Amara reached into her handbag and pulled out a small photograph.
It was old and slightly faded.
A picture of her father.
Her thumb brushed over his face.
"I haven't forgotten," she whispered.
Not for a single day.
Not for a single night.
She hadn't forgotten the accusations.
She hadn't forgotten the humiliation.
She hadn't forgotten how quickly everyone had turned against her father.
Most importantly, she hadn't forgotten who had been responsible.
Victor Blackwood.
The most powerful businessman in the city.
The man everyone respected.
The man who had destroyed her family and walked away without consequences.
Amara's eyes hardened.
Tonight, she would step into his world.
And she would make him pay.
---
The Blackwood Foundation's annual charity gala was already in full swing when Amara arrived.
Crystal chandeliers glittered above hundreds of wealthy guests.
Women in expensive gowns moved around the ballroom with champagne glasses in their hands, while men in tailored suits discussed business deals as if they owned the world.
Amara stepped through the entrance.
Immediately, heads turned.
She ignored them.
Her black dress hugged her figure perfectly, simple but elegant. Her hair fell over one shoulder, and the expression on her face gave away nothing.
She wasn't here to impress anyone.
She was here to find one person.
Victor Blackwood.
She scanned the room.
Then she saw him.
Standing near the centre of the ballroom, surrounded by businessmen and politicians, was the man she had spent five years learning to hate.
Victor Blackwood.
Older now.
But still unmistakable.
Amara's heartbeat quickened.
For one terrifying second, she was seventeen again.
Crying.
Alone.
Watching her father being taken away.
She clenched her fists.
No.
She wasn't that girl anymore.
"Miss?"
A man's voice pulled her from her thoughts.
Amara turned.
And froze.
He was tall.
Very tall.
Dark hair. Sharp jaw. Cold grey eyes.
His black suit fitted him perfectly, and there was something intimidating about the way he looked at people—as though he had no reason to care what anyone thought of him.
She knew exactly who he was.
Damian Blackwood.
Victor's only son.
The heir to the Blackwood empire.
The man she had spent months researching.
The man who could either ruin her plan...
Or become the most useful part of it.
"Have we met?" Damian asked.
Amara forced a smile.
"No."
His eyes remained on her.
"You looked like you knew me."
"I've heard your name."
"That doesn't answer my question."
She smiled again.
"Maybe I'm just curious."
Damian studied her face for a few seconds.
Then he extended his hand.
"Damian."
She looked at his hand.
For a moment, she hesitated.
Then she placed hers in his.
"Amara."
The moment their hands touched, something strange passed through her.
She hated that she noticed.
She hated even more that he seemed to notice it too.
Damian's gaze lingered on her.
"Amara," he repeated slowly.
She pulled her hand away.
"Nice to meet you."
"I don't think you mean that."
A small smile appeared on his lips.
For the first time that evening, Amara almost smiled genuinely.
"Maybe I don't."
Before Damian could respond, someone called his name.
"Damian!"
He looked over his shoulder.
His father was standing several feet away.
Victor Blackwood.
Watching them.
Amara's blood ran cold.
Victor's eyes moved from Damian to her.
He stared at her face.
And suddenly, his expression changed.
The colour drained from his face.
His lips parted slightly.
"No..." he whispered.
Amara's heart pounded.
He knew.
There was no way he couldn't.
Victor took one step toward her.
"Who are you?"
Amara stared directly into his eyes.
For five years, she had imagined this moment.
She had imagined screaming.
She had imagined exposing him in front of everyone.
But instead, she smiled.
A calm, beautiful smile.
"The name's Amara."
Victor's face became even paler.
"Amara... what?"
She leaned slightly closer.
"Amara Hayes."
The glass in Victor's hand slipped.
It crashed onto the marble floor.
The entire ballroom went silent.
Damian looked between his father and Amara.
"Father?"
Victor didn't answer.
He was staring at Amara like he'd just seen a ghost.
Because five years ago, everyone believed Amara Hayes had left the city forever.
Everyone believed she was gone.
Everyone except Amara.
She hadn't gone anywhere.
She had simply been waiting.
And now she was back.
Not to forgive.
Not to forget.
But to destroy the family that had destroyed hers.
And Damian Blackwood?
He had no idea that the woman standing in front of him had entered his life with one purpose—
to bring his family to its knees.
Nor did he know that he was about to become the biggest complication in her carefully planned revenge.
