Two years ago, Celestela's mother died of food poisoning.
It was sudden, shocking—unnatural. And not even six months later, her stepfather brought home his secret lover. The woman just so happened to be the mother of her stepsister.
Life had twisted cruelly since then.
Her once-loving stepfather turned into a beast overnight. He didn't even mourn his late wife. The moment he brought that woman home, it was as if her mother never existed.
Celestela had always suspected her mother's death wasn't a tragic accident. Something had been off. And during that time, she held onto ten percent of the company shares—while her mother had once owned sixty-five percent.
She had been quietly investigating, trying to uncover the truth about her mother's death… until it all came to an abrupt end.
Before she could uncover the truth, Celestela was in a mysterious accident that claimed her life.
Celestelle squeezed her eyes shut as the memory surged through her. The horror, the betrayal—it wasn't her own past, but it might as well have been.
Celestela had trusted too easily. Loved too deeply.
Just like her.
Celestelle had died the same way—in betrayal. In the ancient world, she had trusted those she would have given her life for. And they had stabbed her in the back without hesitation.
She didn't know why she hadn't moved on to the afterlife, why her soul had awakened in this modern world, in a body nearly identical to hers. Same name, different spelling.
Was this fate?
The body she now occupied was weak, but the memories were intact—Celestela's thoughts, fears, suspicions, regrets. And through them, Celestelle gained a foothold in this unfamiliar era.
One thing was certain.
She would take revenge on behalf of Celesteela.
She would uncover everything that led to her death—and her parents'. She would drag every hidden predator into the light and leave none standing.
This woman—smiling by her bedside, pretending to be concerned—was not her aunt, but the sister of her stepfather. She had a motive. Celestelle was sure of it.
Armed with Celestela's memory, Celestelle learned the rules of the modern world—and the traps woven into its glittering surface.
Right now, she was a fallen heiress. Powerless. She needed a name, a backer, power… strength.
To build all of that from scratch could take five years or more.
She didn't have that time.
If she waited, the trail would grow cold. Evidence would be buried. The people responsible would become untouchable.
She needed a shortcut.
The fastest path?
Marriage.
If she could marry into a powerful family—a Scion of wealth and influence—she could shield herself and dig deeper into the rot beneath her mother's death. A marriage of benefit. One with no romantic strings, no bedroom obligations.
The problem?
She had nothing to offer. No dowry. No position. And certainly no intention of playing the doting wife.
What kind of man would agree to marry someone like her?
She didn't know. But she needed to figure it out—fast.
Then an idea sparked. The civil affairs bureau.
Could she go there and register a marriage with someone on the spot? Would that even work?
There was one card she still held.
Ten percent of the company's shares—still hidden, still legally hers. She couldn't access them unless she got married. That had been part of the inheritance clause her mother set up.
If she couldn't marry a man of influence, maybe she could still use those shares to build something serious. Something that could help her stand on her own.
She would try. As soon as she was strong enough to stand up from this bed.
Three months. That's how long this body had lain here, breathing but lifeless. Her muscles ached. Her chest still felt heavy. The hospital stank of disinfectant and old drugs.
But Celestelle was awake now.
And she wasn't Celestela anymore.
The girl who had once been kind, loving, forgiving—who didn't understand how dark the world could be until it was too late—was gone.
The woman who had once ruled as a noble in an ancient land, who knew power and politics but was destroyed by misplaced trust—was gone too.
Now, a soul reborn stood between both lives.
She didn't know why fate gave her this second chance. But she would not waste it.
Celestela had died.
Celestelle would live on—for her.
That was the perfect theme, wasn't it? Almost laughable.
---
In Golden City, wealth wasn't just counted in currency—it was a living, breathing hierarchy.
The rich drove imported cars with bulletproof windows and never stopped at traffic lights.
The wealthy built their own roads.
The truly powerful didn't need roads at all.
And beneath it all, the forgotten. The discarded. The dreamers with sharp minds and empty pockets.
Ambition whispered through every corner of the city. Skyscrapers clawed at the sky like glass titans, each trying to outshine the next. Some gleamed like polished silver; others loomed dark as obsidian. No two buildings looked the same, but all cast long shadows over those below.
"Wealth, power".
At the far end of the Financial District stood Francisco Global—a sleek, influential conglomerate known for luxury construction, cutting-edge tech, and quiet lobbying. It was ranked second tier among the business elite: just under the top ten, but still far above most.
The thirty-fifth floor was where the wolves held court.
Imported marble floors. Whispering assistants. A view that swallowed half the city.
Behind a sleek obsidian desk sat Nicholas Francisco.
Too young, many said, to be the man in charge.
But power didn't care about age—and Nicholas took what he wanted.
His chestnut hair was perfectly styled. His sharp eyes could slice through steel. With thick brows and a princely charm, he looked like the kind of man who smiled while drawing blood.
Today, though, his smile didn't reach his eyes.
He scrolled through his tablet… then paused. Tapped on a headline.
> "Heiress to White Pharmaceuticals Dies in a Car Crash After Three Months in Coma — Ruled as Mechanical Failure."