Chapter 1

Chloe Ashford, the spoiled princess of the Ashford dynasty—they call her the human lie detector.

Lie to her face, and she snaps and slaps you across the face.

And somehow, she's always right.

When Chloe was barely two, her mother, Vivian, lost her baby after being secretly drugged.

Little Chloe could barely walk, but she toddled over to her father's mistress.

She grabbed the woman by the hair and smacked her over and over with her tiny hand.

"Bad lady! Baby killer!"

That was the first time people started whispering.

The kid could smell a lie.

Then, at eight, she did it again.

This time, it happened at a dinner hosted by the Blackwoods—the most powerful family on the East Coast.

That night, Richard Blackwood himself was there. So was his wife, Eleanor.

And his favorite mistress was there too—the mother of his only son, Ethan.

Chloe marched right up to the mistress and slapped her clean across the face.

"Liar! You were sleeping with a bodyguard before you ever crawled into Mr. Blackwood's bed!"

Within a week, the mistress was dead.

Officially, an accidental overdose.

Nobody bought it.

But nobody said a word, either.

Eleanor took the dead woman's little boy and raised him as her own.

That boy grew up to be Ethan Blackwood, heir to the family empire.

As for Chloe Ashford?

Untouchable.

Nobody wanted to cross the girl who could expose your darkest secret with one slap.

Until today.

Ethan's engagement gala.

Eleanor wants a bride she can control.

Chloe is her top pick.

And me?

I'm Charlotte Hastings, daughter of Eleanor's biggest obstacle.

My father is Richard's right hand—the only man in the family Eleanor can't touch.

I walked in tonight as Ethan's other choice for a bride.

Cameras everywhere.

Half of Manhattan watching live.

Chloe hasn't slapped anyone in years.

But now she's storming straight at me, hand raised.

"YOU! America's golden girl? Please. You've been passed around by half the city!"

The room goes dead silent.

One slap, and my name is gone.

Too bad I'm not the easy target they think I am.

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Fine when she plays her little games with other girls.

But coming after me?

On live TV?

The slap was coming down when Daisy jumped in and caught her wrist mid-swing.

Chloe yanked twice, couldn't break free, and out of pure humiliation whipped her other hand across Daisy's face.

"I'm an Ashford, you cheap little assistant! You dare put your hands on me?"

Daisy took the hit and didn't let go. Her eyes went red.

"My lady is Mr. Blackwood's right hand's daughter! Mr. Blackwood himself has praised her character in front of the entire family. You don't get to smear her just because you're throwing a tantrum!"

Chloe snorted.

"You gonna use Mr. Blackwood to scare me? He knows about my thing. That dinner years ago—"

"Chloe, shut up!"

The second the old scandal was mentioned, Vivian—Chloe's mother—went white.

She rushed forward, stopping in front of Richard and Eleanor.

"Sir. Ma'am. My daughter didn't mean to drag Miss Hastings into this. She's just—she's had this condition since she was a baby. She can't stand a lie. Every time the staff argues at home, she settles it, and she's never once been wrong.

Maybe it just misfired today. Let me take her home before she ruins the gala."

A chill ran down my spine.

Because what she just said? That wasn't an apology.

That was another headline waiting to happen.

Chloe's a walking polygraph.

She does everything on instinct.

That dinner years ago proved it.

So whatever she said today must be true, too.

The room erupted in whispers.

Even Richard and Eleanor looked grim.

If I don't clean this up right now, I lose everything.

My name.

My father's name.

The entire Hastings reputation—gone.

And once the other families hear this, my father won't be able to protect us anymore.

I stepped forward, keeping my back straight.

"Sir. Ma'am. My family's name is on the line. Give me a chance to prove myself."

"If Miss Ashford is telling the truth, I'll take whatever comes next. So will my family."

Silence.

Then Eleanor's voice cut through the room, cool as ice.

"Every liar swears they're innocent, honey."

Translation: don't waste your breath, sweetheart.

My heart shot up into my throat.

Then, thank God—Richard's deep voice cut her off.

It was low, cold, and final.

"I've praised the Hastings girl myself. I'll give her a chance."

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