“My sister, Eleanor, was the laughingstock of the Vance family. She was known as the pathetic, socially crippled heiress, bullied at school and discarded by our father for his new step-daughter. I thought she just couldn't handle the pressure, until I stood in the freezing morgue and watched the heavy industrial zipper seal her bruised face away forever. The car crash that killed her wasn't an accident. Our cousin paid the driver to secure the family trust fund. Our step-sister Sophia orchestrated her daily torment, and our father Arthur embezzled her inheritance to buy a fake Ivy League pedigree. They ruined Eleanor's reputation, painted her as a disfigured lunatic, and left her to die in absolute despair. Why did the people who shared our blood treat her worse than a stray dog? How could they smile for the cameras while her blood was still wet on their hands? They thought with Eleanor dead, they had finally won. But they didn't know I existed. I scrubbed the weakness from her name and took over her identity. I slipped into a black tactical suit, bypassed military-grade security, and walked straight into the office of Wall Street's apex predator, Ethan Thorne. I pressed a combat knife against his aorta and looked into his cold eyes. "I need a political marriage. And you need a wife." Starting today, Eleanor Vance is back, and the entire family is going to burn.”