1 My father is Viktor "The Tsar" Volkov, head of the most powerful syndicate on the continent, and I am his chosen heir. But my nine older brothers? They worship the ground my body double walks on, letting her parade around as if she were me. The day I was to be officially named successor, Angelica snatched the moment, striding onto the dais and shooting me a look of pure provocation. “If my brothers weren't so worried about my safety, do you really think a worthless stand-in like you would ever be allowed at a meeting this important?” In my previous life, I lived in Angelica's shadow, bullied into submission by those same nine brothers. I took eighteen bullets meant for her and died for it. But now, I've been reborn. Seeing Angelica's smug, arrogant face, I moved without thinking. The crack of my palm against her cheek echoed through the hall. “A piece of trash not even fit to shine my shoes dares to act high and mighty in front of me? You must have a death wish.” My audacious move sent a collective gasp through the assembled guests. Tears instantly welled in Angelica’s eyes. My eldest brother, Dmitri, rushed to her side, pulling her into a protective embrace. My second brother, Ivan, glared at me with pure hatred. “Scarlett! Have you lost your mind? How dare you lay a hand on my sister!” My eyes swept over the nine men—my own flesh and blood—who now surrounded Angelica, their faces contorted with rage. I let out a cold, sharp laugh. “Lost my mind? Am I the one who’s insane, or is it all of you?” I sneered. “I am the sole heir to the Volkov family. She’s just a stand-in. Even if I killed her right here, today, what could any of you possibly do about it?” Before the words had fully left my mouth, my third brother, Mikhail, lunged forward and slapped me. Hard. “Scarlett, have you played the part for so long you’ve forgotten who you are?” he snarled. “If Angelica hadn’t been kind enough to drag you out of the slums, you would have starved to death long ago! You have some nerve!” The heavy blow landed unexpectedly, a searing pain that quickly faded into a dull numbness. My ears rang, a roaring wave of disbelief washing over me. Whispers erupted around me. “All nine sons are on Miss Angelica’s side. It’s obvious she’s their real sister!” “That Scarlett girl is playing with fire, banking on a slight resemblance to cause a scene like this…” I watched Mikhail, his face a mask of self-righteousness, and a bitter, self-mocking smile touched my lips. Even though we didn't share a mother, I had spent my last life trying desperately to win their affection. And for my efforts, they had used me as a human shield for Angelica, letting me die in a hail of gunfire. At that thought, I shifted my weight, my hand closing around the neck of a whiskey bottle on a nearby table. In one fluid motion, I brought it crashing down on Mikhail’s head. I watched, detached, as crimson blood mixed with the amber liquid, trickling down his face. “Who the hell do you think you are?” I spat, my voice dripping with venom. “A bastard son dares to strike me? Even your mother has to bow her head when she sees me.” That struck a nerve. The color drained from all nine of my brothers’ faces. My fourth brother, Alex, ground his teeth and barked at a nearby bodyguard. “Kane! What are you standing there for? Get her out of my sight!” Angelica, still sobbing, managed to pull herself together. “It’s all my fault,” she whimpered. “I couldn't control my own staff. I’m so sorry to have made a scene.” My gaze sharpened as Kane approached me. “Kane! You’ve been by my side since we were children. We grew up together. Can you really not tell which one of us is my father's true daughter?” Kane hesitated, his face a canvas of conflict. “I… I…” Dmitri’s expression darkened. “Kane!” he threatened. “My father is still lying in an ICU bed! If he gets out and finds out Scarlett bullied his precious little girl, he’ll have your head. And I won’t be there to save you!” Kane gritted his teeth, his eyes filled with a pained apology. “Miss Scarlett, I am grateful for everything you’ve done for me over the years. But things are different now. You need to accept the situation.” A chilling cold flooded my veins. I never imagined Kane, who had fought alongside me for years, would turn against me. “Miss Scarlett… my apologies.” With that, he moved like a phantom. But I wasn't flustered. I stood my ground, closed my eyes, and simply listened. Amidst the chaos of the crowd, I heard it—the distinct, sharp whistle of a whip slicing through the air. My eyes snapped open. In a flash, my hand shot out and caught the leather cord just inches from my face. I smirked at Kane’s shocked expression. “Don't you forget, Kane,” I said, my voice dangerously low. “I'm the one who taught you how to use that whip.” Taking advantage of his momentary stupor, I yanked hard, using his momentum to sweep his legs out from under him. He crashed to the floor, and I ripped the whip from his grasp. CRACK! The whip’s tail sang through the air, changing direction in a brutal arc. It connected with Angelica’s face, and in an instant, the leather tip split her cheek open in a spray of blood. She stood stunned for a second before a horrific, piercing scream tore from her throat. “Scarlett! You dare to hurt me! Brothers, kill her! Kill her for me!” I held the whip ready, my gaze fixed on my nine brothers. “Not only am I my father’s only legitimate daughter,” I said with a contemptuous laugh, “I am the next head of the Volkov Syndicate. You bastards want to touch me? Go on. Try it.” 2 My declaration was met with a wave of derisive laughter from the crowd. “Is she crazy? First, she impersonates the Tsar’s daughter, and now she’s claiming to be the next head of the Syndicate? Is she dreaming?” “Even if she were his real daughter, she’s just a girl. Besides, Viktor Volkov has nine sons! Even if they’re illegitimate, there’s no way he’d hand power over to her!” Listening to the murmurs, I let a sly smile play on my lips as I looked at my brothers, one by one. “Well, my dear brothers? Why don’t you tell them? Am I fit to lead, or not?” Dmitri avoided my gaze, his expression unreadable. The others just stammered, unable to form a coherent sentence. Of course, I knew why they couldn’t answer. They were all bastards, the result of my father’s affairs. My mother was his lawfully wedded wife, and I was his only true child. If it hadn’t been for my mother’s soft heart, her refusal to let Volkov blood be abandoned, they would have all perished in the continent’s brutal, unforgiving streets long ago. Before my father even brought them into the family, he made them sign an agreement: under no circumstances would any of the nine of them ever be eligible to lead the Syndicate. Their silence began to sow seeds of doubt among the guests. Just then, a figure burst into the hall like a storm. It was Damien Thorne, my father’s hand-picked choice for my fiancé, the eldest son of one of the continent's most reclusive and powerful families. When my father first arranged for us to meet, my brothers had sent me away on a fool’s errand and had Angelica go in my place. With their careful maneuvering, Damien was led to believe that Angelica was the Volkov heiress, his betrothed. The moment Angelica saw him, all her feigned vulnerability returned in a flood. Damien’s eyes landed on me, and he froze for a second before a vein pulsed in his forehead. “Scarlett! You’re just a body double. How dare you act so arrogantly in front of the real thing!” he roared. “Today, I’ll teach you the price for angering your master!” His arrival was the final nail in my coffin, confirming for everyone that I was the impostor. The whispers of doubt died down, replaced by glares of disgust and scorn. Angelica hid in Damien’s arms, her eyes glinting with triumph and malice. Seeing my nine brothers and my own fiancé standing united against me, a sharp, familiar pain lanced through my heart. Thanks to my brothers’ scheming, I’d been kept in the dark. It wasn’t until my wedding day, when Angelica showed up in a gown identical to mine and stepped into my bridal car, that I learned the truth from her own lips. Damien had known all along that she was my double. He chose to swap the brides, marrying Angelica while arranging for his own family’s enemies to ambush my car. He personally sent me to my death, a sacrifice to shield the woman he truly wanted. My gaze turned to ice. “Damien! If you think you have what it takes, then come and get me.” He scoffed. “Pathetic.” He moved in a blur, so fast I barely had time to register it. I tried to sidestep, but I was a fraction of a second too late. His boot connected sharply with the back of my knee. CRACK. I collapsed, both knees slamming into the hard marble floor. The pain was excruciating, shooting straight to the bone. Damien looked down on me with contempt. “You’ve been a stand-in for so long, did you really think Angelica’s skills would magically transfer to you?” Head bowed, I suddenly began to laugh, a wild, unhinged sound. In a single, fluid motion, I drew the pistol concealed at my waist. I looked up, my eyes as red as blood. “Damien, your family has been on this continent for generations,” I said, my voice low and dangerous. “Don’t you know that the Volkovs are famous for one thing above all else? Our aim.” A gunshot ripped through the silence. The bullet struck Damien at an impossible angle, and a flower of blood blossomed on his chest as a strangled scream escaped his lips. He clutched his chest, his face pale with shock. “You… you… The Thornes will never let you get away with this.” I let out a soft, chilling chuckle. “You should be thanking me. If my aim had been off by a single millimeter, you’d be a dead man.” My sheer audacity left everyone speechless. “Could she… could she really be the Tsar’s daughter? That presence, that aura… it’s not something a normal person has…” I loomed over them, casually twirling the pistol in my hand. “Now, tell everyone. Who am I?” My brothers stared at me, their faces ashen. “Scarlett! You’re nothing but a stand-in!” Dmitri yelled, their voices merging into one defiant shout. “Even if you shoot us all, that will always be the answer!” Their unified defiance extinguished the last flicker of pity in my heart. Just as my finger tightened on the trigger, a stooped, elderly figure slowly entered the room. It was the family’s matriarch. My grandmother. “What is all this noise?” she snapped, her voice raspy. “Do you think this is a fish market?” 3 Her eyes immediately found the injured Angelica. She rushed to her side, her tone softening to a gentle coo. “My sweet treasure, who hurt you? Tell Grandma. Grandma will make them pay!” Nine fingers pointed directly at me. “The stand-in Father found for Angelica has gotten completely out of control! Not only is she trying to steal Angelica’s identity, she struck her with a whip!” Grandmother’s face clouded over instantly. She marched towards me, her cane thumping against the floor, completely unafraid of the gun I had pointed at her. She knew I wouldn’t dare shoot. In my moment of hesitation, a searing pain shot up my arm. Her cane came crashing down on my wrist, and the pistol clattered to the floor. She kicked it away and glared down at me, her face a mask of fury. “Scarlett, you wretched girl, how dare you? Get on your knees and apologize to Angelica right now!” Looking at the woman who, in both lifetimes, had always sided with Angelica, my heart ached with a bitter sorrow. In my past life, I never understood her blatant favoritism. It wasn’t until I was dying that I learned the truth: Angelica was her real granddaughter. My father had no blood relation to her. He was the son of her husband's first wife. When he took over the Syndicate, he had her own son—his rival—eliminated. It was only because of my grandfather’s dying wish that my father spared her life. But she had never forgiven him. His recent illness wasn't an accident; it was her doing. Tears of bitter laughter streamed from my eyes. “Why should I apologize to her?” “I’ll say it again. I am the sole heir of the Volkov family and the future head of the Syndicate. What gives her the right to demand an apology from me?!” Seeing the color drain from Angelica's face, Grandmother swung her cane again, this time cracking it against my already injured knee. “Angelica is my granddaughter! She is the rightful head of the Syndicate!” A wave of agony pulsed from my knee, and a cold sweat drenched my clothes, clinging to my skin. A furious inferno blazed in my eyes. “What right do you have to say that?” I screamed. “The Volkov family has nothing to do with an outsider like you!” She shot me a venomous look and ordered my brothers, “What are you waiting for? Cripple her and throw her out!” Staring at the undisguised disgust on her face, a wave of nausea washed over me. Years ago, she had begged my mother to bring these nine brothers home, swearing she would love and protect me for the rest of her life. My mother could never have imagined that her one act of compassion would lead to my brutal death in one life and leave me beaten and cornered in another. The irony was almost too much to bear. My gaze turned cold, as if I were looking at a stranger. “All of you outsiders, get out of my house. My father isn't here, which means as the sole heir, my word is law!” My words finally pushed them over the edge. My nine brothers swarmed me, their fists and feet raining down blows. “A stand-in has no authority! Say another word and I’ll rip your tongue out!” Grandmother pressed her cane onto the back of my hand, grinding it into the floor. “Authority? Even your father has to listen to me! Who the hell do you think you are?” Tears streamed down my face, hot and furious. “This is my father’s house! I am his daughter, the only heir to the Syndicate! You aren't even my real grandmother!” My head was slammed against the marble, the coppery taste of blood filling my mouth. Grandmother banged her cane on the floor for emphasis. “Did you all hear that? Angelica is my true granddaughter! With my son gravely ill, Angelica will be the next head of the Syndicate! As for Scarlett, she’s just some piece of trash we picked up from the slums!” Before her words could fully settle, a voice boomed from the doorway, radiating pure, unadulterated power. “Calling my daughter a piece of trash?”
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