On my wedding night, I slipped under the bed, my veil tangled in my hair, laughing at one last childish prank … until the door creaked open. My husband’s voice sounded gentle — then his mother’s cut in cold: “Did you give it to her?” He exhaled. “She drank it. She’s about to PASS OUT.” My breath caught as their footsteps stopped inches from me. “Good,” she whispered. “Once she’s unconscious, bring the papers. By morning … she’ll wake up with NOTHING.” I clenched my teeth until they hurt …

“Priya,” I whispered. “Listen carefully.”

Silence on the other end.

“Daniel and Victoria drugged me. They’re planning to force me to sign asset transfers tonight.”

The humor vanished from her voice instantly.

“Are you safe?”

“For now.”

“I’m coming.”

“No,” I said quickly. “Bring Malik. And call Judge Armand.”

A pause.

Then—

“Elena…”

“Quietly,” I added.

That was enough.

Priya had known me long enough to understand what wasn’t being said.

What Daniel didn’t know—

What Victoria didn’t know—

Was that I wasn’t just an heiress.

I was the controlling trustee of the Varela Estate.