"Come meet me," Jasmine ordered, dropping an address. "We'll talk there."
Lyra thought about bringing Liam along for protection.
Then she remembered she had just dispatched him to the Montgomerys' estate.
In her past life, she had walked right into their trap—they had stripped her and Liam naked, tossed them into bed together, and called Rowan in to witness the staged betrayal.
It had been absolutely sickening.
Lyra arrived at the designated tea house.
She walked in and immediately spotted Jasmine. The other woman was draped in designer clothing, exuding an air of artificial superiority.
Even though she was teetering on the edge of bankruptcy and could barely afford the brands she wore.
Lyra cut straight to the chase. "Where's the crown?"
Jasmine smirked. "That crown you worked so hard to get? Rowan just handed it over to me like it was nothing."
"Cut the crap," Lyra said coldly, noticing Jasmine hadn't brought the piece with her. "You clearly don't want the millions. So what is it? Do you want my life?"
Jasmine did, in fact, want her dead. Her eyes were sharp and venomous, glaring at Lyra as if her hatred alone could manifest into a blade and tear her to pieces.
She had been abandoned by Rowan, mocked by the social elite, and treated like a disappointment by her own family. She had lost everything, and it was all because of Lyra.
And yet, she hadn't managed to sell the one thing she had left: the crown.
She wasn't about to give it up easily.
"What, are you actually going to try and kill me?" Lyra asked, her gaze narrowing at Jasmine's hostile expression.
Jasmine's hands were trembling uncontrollably. She lifted her teacup and took a tense sip of water.
If she wasn't terrified that Lyra still had her bodyguard lurking nearby, Jasmine would have slapped her across the face right then and there.
She had seen that bodyguard before.

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