Lethal Reversal: Who is the Real Prey

I slept with Caspian’s best friend just to get back at him. He didn't care. He actually stood there and joked about it with the guy. "So, how was Maeve?" "Pretty damn good.

Soft everywhere. If she let loose a little more, I would've died happy." His friend laughed. "But Caspian… you knew she was just doing it to piss you off.

You really just watched her climb into my bed?" "It’s the only way she’ll learn her place." The tip of Caspian’s cigarette flared a harsh red in the dim light. "Once she realizes she ruined herself, she’ll be terrified I’ll throw her away.

That’ll put a stop to her little tantrums." The very next day, he walked right into my conversation with Gemma. "Ugh, don't even bring it up," I scoffed, waving a hand. "Nothing to look at and even less to work with.

Calling it a Tic Tac is being generous. Total waste of my fake moans. Caspian's face is tolerable, at least. When he smiles, there's maybe a twenty percent resemblance to him.

But the novelty wears off fast. Whatever. As long as it isn't Kingston, the rest are just placeholders." "I'm just playing around." I turned around.

Caspian stood dead in the doorway. The muscles in his jaw jumped rapidly, his knuckles stark white at his sides.

Chapter 1 The morning after I slept with Dax, Caspian showed up at his place. He slouched into a leather chair, waving a dismissive hand. "Relax. I'm not here to throw a punch.

I know Maeve came looking for you last night. I let it happen." Dax let out a low whistle.

Caspian sparked a lighter, the flame catching the end of his cigarette. "How was she?" "Fucking incredible," Dax said, sinking into the sofa opposite him with a satisfied smirk. "Makes sense why you kept her around.

She's intense. Soft everywhere. Bounces right back under your hands. Bruises like a ripe peach the second you grip her. A little too rigid, though.

If she actually let go, she’d be lethal. And the way she cries? Pure as hell.

Just thinking about it gets me…" Caspian smiled, but the expression stayed entirely localized to his mouth. "But you knew she was just throwing a tantrum to get back at you," Dax pointed out. "Why just sit back and watch her climb into my bed?" "It’s the only way she’ll learn her place." Caspian blew out a stream of gray smoke. "She’s been throwing tantrums lately.

Picking fights. It’s a headache. Once she realizes her little fits don't work, she’ll drop the act." Dax leaned forward, intrigued. "Aren't you worried she'll get a taste for it?

Your little house cat turns stray and keeps sneaking out for a bite?" Caspian let out a dismissive scoff. "Never. Maeve grew up in the foster system. She had nothing.

You toss a few crumbs of affection to someone like that, and they cling to you like a lifeline. She’s obsessed with me. Last night was a desperate impulse because she was pissed.

She doesn't have the spine for this normally." He tapped his ash into the glass tray, his words curling out with the smoke. "I know her. Once she cools down, she’ll feel ruined.

She’ll regret stepping foot in your place, and she'll be terrified I'll throw her away because she's used goods. From now on, she’ll just sit there and be quiet. Less drama for me.

Let her cross the line once to guarantee total obedience later. Solid return on investment." Dax clicked his tongue, giving him a slow, mocking round of applause. "Cold bastard.

You train women like you train dogs. But I remember Maeve being a total doormat. She never snaps. What exactly did you do to set her off? Don't tell me… it's about Juliet?

Did she catch you two—" Dax made a crude gesture with his hands, flashing a wicked grin. Caspian shot him a flat, unimpressed look. "Get your mind out of the gutter.

She just saw us kissing." Dax blew out another sharp whistle. "Seriously, man. What's the endgame here? Now that Juliet is back in the picture, who are you actually picking?

You've been obsessed with her for a decade. You only kept Maeve on your payroll because she's a dead ringer for Juliet, right?

Juliet isn't exactly the type to share." Smoke plumed up, obscuring Caspian’s sharp jawline. He went quiet for a beat. "We'll see. Maeve can't survive without me.

Worst case scenario, I just set her up in a condo on the side. She’s naive.

Without my protection, the real world would eat her alive." Something sparked in his eyes, and he shot Dax a sudden, icecold glare. "You used protection." It wasn't a question.

Dax froze, his brain stalling out for a full three seconds before he scrambled to nod. "Yeah. Obviously." Caspian crushed his cigarette out in the ashtray.

He grabbed the lapels of his wool coat, pulling it tight as he stood up. His voice dropped ten degrees. "You got a free pass last night. But.

There is no next time." Chapter 2 The midday sun poured in. I spent twenty minutes perfecting a flawless, glowing makeup look before heading out to meet Gemma for lunch.

The second I slid into the booth, Gemma grabbed my wrists. Her eyes darted all over me. "Are you okay? What happened?" I pulled my hands back with a light laugh. "I'm fine.

Never better." Gemma didn't buy it for a second. "Really? Because you called me sobbing last night. You were incoherent.

I kept asking what was wrong, and then the line just went dead. It went straight to voicemail after that." She leaned in, lowering her voice. "You terrified me. Tell me the truth.

Did Caspian do something to you again?" I patted the leather seat next to me. "I'm serious. I just dropped my phone and shattered the screen. And nobody did anything to me.

Caspian is acting exactly like he always does.

His deposits clear on time." I paused, swirling the straw in my glass. "Though his little high school sweetheart just moved back to town. He hired Juliet as his personal assistant.

I walked in on them making out yesterday. Super terrible timing." Gemma stared at me. "Are you kidding me?

You call that 'fine'?!" She slapped her hands down on the table. "Aren't you pissed? That's literally cheating!

I told you from day one that guy was toxic trash, but you insisted on putting him on a pedestal!" "It is what it is," I said, entirely unbothered. "I slept with his best friend anyway." The air in the cafe stalled.

Gemma went dead silent for a second time. Then, she let out an earpiercing, "Holy shit!" A little girl at the next table jumped in her seat.

Realizing how loud she was, Gemma slapped both hands over her mouth.

She shot paranoid glances over her shoulders before sliding across the booth, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "…Who?" "Nobody you know." "What were you thinking?

Was it just to get back at Caspian?" "Not really." I pushed a glass of sparkling water across the table into her hands. "I just noticed the guy had a crescent moon scar on his shoulder.

It looked exactly like Kingston's birthmark. I'd had a few drinks, and I just… lost focus for a second." Gemma's jaw practically unhinged. "You are insane…" "Honestly, though?

The whole experience was a massive letdown. Both of them are completely useless in bed. Calling them a Tic Tac is giving them too much credit.

You couldn't even finish pouring a glass of water before they're done. A total waste of my acting skills. Caspian is slightly better, I guess.

He puts in a little more effort, and his face is tolerable. When he smiles, there's maybe a twenty percent resemblance. But the novelty wears off. Whatever.

As long as it isn't Kingston, the rest of them are just placeholders. It's all just a game.

Nobody should be catching feelings anyway." Gemma sat there paralyzed, forgetting to blink. She slowly raised her hand and gave me a thumbsup.

I clinked my glass against hers. "Just out of curiosity… who exactly is Kingston—" Gemma's voice cut off. I followed her frozen stare.

I turned my head and looked straight into Caspian's eyes. A dark, ugly vein throbbed at his temple. His voice ground out from the back of his throat. "Maeve.

Who the hell is Kingston? You'd better start explaining right now. What the fuck were you two just talking about?" Caspian didn't make a scene in the bistro.

He just grabbed my wrist, hauled me out to his car, and dragged me straight back to his penthouse.

The muscle in his jaw jumped, his eyes locked onto me like a predator cornering its prey. I didn't feel a single shred of panic.

I kicked off my heels and slumped bonelessly into the leather sofa, watching him with an amused smirk. "You heard every word." I lifted a single finger and pointed it directly at his chest. "You.

Are a standin." I dropped the truth without blinking. Chapter 3 Caspian's eyes were injected with red. A visible tremor shook the line of his arms.

He stared at me like he wanted to rip me apart with his bare hands. "So all this time you've been with me, you were pretending I was someone else?" "Yep." I didn't hesitate for a single second.

The air in the room practically snapped with static. I met his furious gaze dead on, not giving an inch. His phone buzzed twice against the coffee table.

He snatched it up, his thumb swiping the screen as his eyes finally broke contact with mine. A few seconds passed. The hard line of his jaw loosened.

He let out a low scoff, the tension draining from his shoulders. "Maeve, you don't need to make up lies to get a reaction out of me.

I had a background check run on everyone in your life. There is no Kingston." He tossed the phone back onto the table. "Who put you up to this? Gemma?" The sheer arrogance.

I clicked my tongue. "Whatever. Believe what you want." I pushed up from the sofa and stepped around him, heading for the bedroom.

His hand clamped down on my wrist like a vice. "Where were you last night? Why didn't you come home?" I frowned at him. "At Dax's place.

You already knew that." Didn't he hear everything at the bistro? Or did his ego block out my review of Dax's performance the second he heard the word 'standin'?

This clearly wasn't the script he expected.

Caspian blinked, a flicker of genuine confusion crossing his face before his brows snapped together again. "You slept with him?" Still playing dumb.

I didn't bother sugarcoating it. "You sleep with Juliet, I sleep with your best friend. Seems like a fair trade." His Adam's apple bobbed hard.

He studied my face, searching for a crack. "Don't you feel disgusting?" "Not at all. I feel fantastic.

Dax was practically on his knees begging for my attention, serving me like a dog." He was the filthy one here. I caught the absolute disbelief in his eyes. Suddenly, it clicked.

I laughed out loud. "Wait. You actually thought I'd come crawling back? You thought I'd be crying on the floor, begging for your forgiveness because I let another man touch me?

Swearing to be a good little girl and follow your every command from now on?" The silence in the room gave him away. He went totally rigid.

I dragged my eyes slowly up and down his body, letting my contempt show. "Caspian, don't project your cheap fantasies onto me.

You aren't God, and you definitely aren't irreplaceable. To be honest, you're aggressively average.

I can survive just fine without your bank account." My reaction obliterated his little power trip. He ground his teeth together.

The skin stretched tight over his cheekbones, his face an ugly mask of pure rage. I stood there and enjoyed the view.

Thick veins pulsed at his temple and across the back of his hands. A harsh, ugly laugh scraped out of his throat. "Fine. You want to play it like this, Maeve? You don't care?

You think you can walk away from me? Let's see you try.

I'll give it three days before you're begging me to take you back." He spun around, stormed out of the apartment, and slammed the front door so hard the framed pictures on the wall rattled.

The truth was, I wasn't Maeve. Not the original one, anyway. I had only woken up in this body last night, dragged into this world by a glitch in the universe.

According to the system that dropped me here, the original owner of this body never stood a chance. Her parents died when she was a kid.

She grew up in grinding poverty, passed around by relatives who looked at her like a burden before dumping her straight into the foster system.

In a place rotting from the inside out, being pretty was practically a death sentence.

She spent her entire childhood dodging the filthy hands of the older boys and taking hits from the relentlessly jealous girls.

She never had a single good day in that group home, and it broke her. It hammered her into someone small, anxious, and terrified of her own shadow.

Chapter 4 In a way, Caspian was the first person to ever show the original Maeve an ounce of kindness. He was the first to look her in the eye and say, "Don't be afraid.

I'm here." When a starved kid gets tossed a single crumb of warmth, they dive into the fire headfirst, desperate to keep the cold away. She fell for him. Hopelessly.

And Caspian played the part perfectly. He bought her designer bags, draped her in jewelry, and checked in on her.

He fed her enough emotional and financial scraps to keep her hooked. But that affection was never exclusive.

It wasn't until recently that Maeve realized she was a walking punchline.

Caspian said he loved her, but he was also obsessed with his high school sweetheart who just flew back into town.

Not only did Juliet share a similar name, but the curve of their profiles and the slope of their noses were carbon copies. The killing blow?

The tiny red mole on her chest—the one Caspian always fixated on when they were in bed—Juliet had the exact same one. In the exact same spot.

She found out when she accidentally walked in on them. And "kissing" was putting it lightly. Half their clothes were already on the floor.

It didn't take a genius to figure out what was coming next. The fragile thread holding her sanity together finally snapped. She lost her mind.

She wanted to draw blood, to make Caspian feel the exact same burn in his chest. So, she crawled into bed with his best friend, Dax.

I hate to admit it, but Caspian read her perfectly. Halfway through the act, the adrenaline of revenge flatlined, swallowed whole by a crushing wave of regret.

Her entire body broke out in tremors. She felt filthy. She sobbed, begging Dax to stop, begging him to let her go. But nobody listened to her pleas.

Maeve felt her entire world cave in. Afterwards, she dragged her bruised, halfdressed body out into the pouring rain.

She wandered onto a bridge, gasping for air between sobs, staring down at the dark water and seriously thinking about stepping over the edge.

Right before doing it, she just wanted to hear her only friend's voice. She dialed Gemma's number.

Unfortunately, before she could even force a word past her lips, a speeding Maybach slammed into her, throwing her body into the air.

The second her spine cracked against the pavement, her consciousness went dark. And I took the wheel.

Honestly, when the system downloaded her memories into my brain, I didn't feel pity. I felt furious. Pure, unadulterated rage. What she did wasn't revenge. It was selfdestruction.

She ripped out her own boundaries, her dignity, and her selfrespect, trying to use them as a weapon. She didn't leave a single scratch on the people who hurt her.

Instead, she dragged herself into a filthy swamp of shame, mutating into the exact kind of person she despised.

But if you don't even value your own life, how can you expect anyone else to give a damn? That is not how you play the game of revenge. You can use men as stepping stones.

You can use them as tools. But you never, ever let them chip away at your own worth. You stay clean.

You stay standing at the absolute top, and you look down to watch the people who crossed you sink into the mud. You make them bow. I know Caspian's type inside and out. Arrogant.

Walking around with a massive savior complex. On the surface, he tells himself he's just keeping a lookalike as a pet.

But he's too stupid to realize he's actually in love with her. He weaponizes her blind devotion, tearing her down simply because he knows she'll never leave.

Dealing with scum like him? That's my specialty. For three straight days, Caspian didn't show his face at the penthouse. I didn't bother reaching out to him, either.

In the past, whenever they had a fight, Caspian would immediately deploy the silent treatment.

Within an hour, Maeve would be swallowing her pride, apologizing, and taking the blame for things she didn't even do. He was entirely used to her breaking first.

So this time, when the silence dragged on, he was guaranteed to be the one to crack. Chapter 5 Right on cue. At ten o'clock, the front door clicked open.

Caspian walked in, practically holding up a completely wasted woman against his side.

I stepped into his path. "What are you doing?" He gave me a flat look, his arm tightening deliberately around her waist. "Juliet is drunk.

I'm letting her take the guest room for the night." I crossed my arms. "She can sleep off a hangover in a hotel.

She's not staying in the guest room." Caspian narrowed his eyes, but a smug gleam slipped through. He had been waiting for this exact reaction.

The man owned half a dozen properties across the city. He brought her here on purpose. He just wanted the sick satisfaction of watching me fight for his attention.

His jaw tightened. "Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to leave someone alone when they're this drunk? If she throws up, she could choke. I have to keep an eye on her.

Stop throwing a tantrum and move." I didn't budge an inch. "I said no. She doesn't get the guest room." He tilted his chin up, looking every bit the victor.

The corner of his mouth hitched into an uncontrollable smirk. "Maeve, and you said you didn't care. The way you act when you're jealous is just—" Caspian froze solid.

The rest of his sentence choked off in his throat. His eyes locked onto something over my shoulder.

The smugness instantly drained from his face, leaving behind a dark, thunderous scowl. "Maeve. Who is he?!" I glanced back. The man had just finished washing up.

He stood there completely shirtless, a white towel slung low on his hips. Water beaded over perfectly defined abs, and his feet were slid into Caspian’s brandnew slippers.

With a face and a build like that, he was a walking threat to any guy's ego. I smiled and walked over to him. "Let me introduce you. Kingston.

He just flew back from Switzerland today.

And the reason I'm not letting her take the guest room…" I dragged the words out, shooting a sideways glance at Caspian. "…is because it's already occupied." The second Caspian laid eyes on Kingston, his smug little power trip shattered.

He practically dumped Juliet onto the sofa. He grabbed my wrist, hauled me into the master bedroom, and slammed the door shut. "Who the hell is he?

What were you two just doing?!" "Why are you panicking?" I took my time, smoothing out my sleeve. "I already told you. He's Kingston. Stop glaring at me.

I warned you about him, but you refused to believe he existed. As for what we were doing, we didn't exactly have time to do anything yet.

I accidentally spilled red wine on him during dinner. It's late anyway, so I just told him to crash in the guest room.

Is that a problem?" "Is that a problem?" Caspian's voice spiked. "Maeve, are you that desperate? You couldn't wait, so you just drag some random guy back to my apartment?!" Wow.

Total meltdown. The muscles in his neck strained against his collar. I kept my arms crossed. "Why not? You just dragged Juliet in here. Don't be a hypocrite.

You're protective of her. I get it. She's your high school sweetheart. It's totally normal. So you should be able to relate to exactly how I feel about Kingston, right?

The only issue is space. It's a little cramped. How about you and Juliet take one room, and Kingston and I take the other?" The original Maeve used to hate massive, empty houses.

They made her anxious. So Caspian had compromised, settling them into this twobedroom condo. Caspian shook with rage. His lips hitched in a violent, uncontrollable twitch.

A sudden thought hit me. I waved a hand, dismissing my own idea. "Actually, never mind. That won't work. It'll probably get too loud tonight. Nobody would get any sleep.

I'll just take Kingston to a hotel. And once I drop him off, I won't bother coming back.

I'd hate to interrupt you guys." Chapter 6 My hand barely brushed the doorknob before he grabbed my wrist, twisting it hard as he slammed me back against the wall. "Maeve, what the fuck am I to you?" I blinked at him, my expression completely flat. "I already told you.

A standin." "You expect me to believe that?" Caspian ground his teeth together, a dark, vicious energy rolling off him. "Who taught you this little trick?

I thought getting tossed around by Dax would finally teach you a lesson. Turns out you're just getting more out of line. There's a limit to these tantrums.

Keep pushing it, and you're done. You know how much I hate women who test my patience." "Fine." I nodded, completely unbothered. "A clean break works for me.

I was actually trying to figure out how to explain you to Kingston anyway. So it's settled. We're done. We have nothing to do with each other anymore.

You can have your housekeeper toss my stuff in the trash; none of it was worth keeping anyway." Caspian stood frozen, his eyes blown wide as I twisted the knob and walked right out of the room.

Kingston was already fully dressed, leaning casually against the front door with a slow, easy smile. I closed the distance between us with light steps.

Slipping my hand effortlessly into his, I looked up. "Let's go find a hotel." Just as the front door clicked shut behind us, the deafening shatter of a twomilliondollar antique vase echoed from the living room.

We went to a hotel. Specifically, a luxury suite in a hotel owned by his family.

Kingston dropped onto the velvet armchair, crossing one long leg over the other as he studied me. "I'll be honest. I don't get your play here.

You pushed Caspian straight to the edge. Aren't you worried he'll actually cut you loose and run off with that other woman?" I wasn't worried in the slightest.

Caspian was a master at psychological manipulation. [According to the system's original timeline, Maeve never got hit by that car.

Instead, she stood shivering on that bridge for half an hour before wandering back to the penthouse in a daze, desperately trying to hypnotize herself into believing nothing had happened.] And Caspian had her personality calculated down to the decimal.

He calmly dropped the fact that he knew she slept with Dax, and right when she was drowning in her own guilt, he started tightening the psychological screws. "Look at you, Maeve.

You're filthy. You'll never be able to scrub these marks off. Do you smell that? Smells like another man's scent on your skin. Shh, stop crying.

I'm not disgusted by you; I'm just stating facts. Don't worry, I won't leave you. After all, who else would even want you now?

As long as you're a good girl, I'm willing to let it slide." Caspian's need for control was suffocating.

To him, picking up a parentless orphan and tossing her some money—even just to keep her as a mistress—was an act of profound charity.

How could she ever walk away from the man who dragged her out of the gutter?

The only way to deal with a narcissist like that is to shatter his absolute confidence and grind his ego into dust. He needs a brutal reminder that in my eyes? He is nothing.

A complete joke. I stretched my lips into a cold smile. "Want to make a bet? Caspian will call me tonight.

Give it a week, and he'll be begging me to come back." Kingston raised an eyebrow. "You're that sure?" The words had barely left his mouth before my phone buzzed on the glass table.

I glanced at the caller ID, then flashed the screen at Kingston with a triumphant smirk. "Look at that. Right on schedule." I didn't answer.

I just watched the screen glow until the call dropped naturally. A second later, Caspian called again. I let it ring out.

When the third call came through, I swiped to answer—and immediately tossed the phone straight to Kingston. Chapter 7