Page 1 of From Angel to Rogue

PROLOGUE

A few months beforenow

KATY

If I had three words to characterize my life.

They would be—plan, organize, and execute.

Or if some knew the truth, it would be…scheme, plot, and lie.

Yes, that would be perfect.

My life was reduced to three words that described me perfectly.

I was a phony in sheep’s clothing.

A fake with pretty red lips and a flair of forced confidence.

No one knew the real me, not even my loner boy. He only knew the version I pretended to be.

The carefully curated version of myself I build like blocks on a ruined foundation.

Not because I wanted to but because Ihadto.

That young girl thought she had to, thought it was the only way people would accept her, that… people wouldloveher.

So, here I was, a woman who hardly recognized herself in the mirror.

And ever sincethat night, everything she meticulously crafted crumbled into dust. Dust that stuck like glue to her skin. It didn’t matter how many times she tried to erase the stain; it just wouldn’t wash off.

“Attention all passengers, baggage for flight SR2103 from JFK is now available in carousel seven. Please make sure you check the tags before you collect them,” announced the voice from the speaker, pulling me out of my thoughts.

Everyone was a blur as I dragged my suitcases out of LAX, heavy with things I didn’t need, but things that were required to paint the skin of Katy Evans, the ruthless band manager of the Four Foxes, the most popular rock band in the world.

The comfortable temperature of the airport dropped as soon as I stepped outside, and the dry LA air riddled my skin with a thin layer of sweat.

There was nothing about this city I liked. There was nothing about any city I liked. But if you were to read my interviews, I would’ve boastfully lied about how much I adored LA, Paris, and London. But did I really adore them? No.

I hopped into a nearby taxi to take me home. To me, it was merely an address that was printed on my ID, but still, the phony Katy Evans acted like she loved everything about that house.

By the time the taxi dropped me off, my heart had slowly climbed to my throat.

I made my way to the front door, hoping he wouldn’t be here, but then I knew it was false hope anyway.

“Katy, angel, I didn’t know you were coming back.” His voice made me still, but then one look at his eyes and everything in me softened.

Everything in my life was fake.

But the one thing that wasn’t washim.

My Lan, I loved him with all that I was. The real, the fake, even the confused version of me loved him. And that was one thing that wouldn’t change till I drew my last breath.

“Yeah,” I mumbled, shrugging.

I watched as he made his way across the foyer, the plain beige walls behind him, molded with ceramic pieces designedby a Belgian designer I hired. Not because I liked his style but because he was the most sought-after interior designer in the elite circle.

A circle of vultures and sly cunning vixens with more money than another country’s GDP.

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