Three days. That’s how close I was to marrying Alistair, the man I’d loved for six years, the man whose life I’d literally saved with my own rare blood. I was just admiring the final pearl on my wedding dress, a gown I’d poured my soul into, when he called.

The wedding? Off. He was marrying my stepsister, Ivy. Her dying wish, he said. Six months to live, maybe less.

The kicker? He’d already taken my wedding dress from my studio for her.

Just like that, six years, countless transfusions, our shared dreams – all tossed aside for the girl who’d made my life a living hell since childhood. He even offered me “compensation,” as if my future had a price tag.

But if Alistair and Ivy thought I’d just crumble, they seriously underestimated me. They wanted my fiancé? Fine. But it would cost them. First, our multi-million-dollar fashion company, Evening Gala – built on my designs, my vision. He signed it over. Then, a cool million for the stolen dress. He paid. Another million for the wedding jewelry they dared to ask me to hand over for Ivy. Cha-ching.

You’d think they’d learn. But no. Their next proposal was the most insulting yet: Alistair actually suggested that I should just wait. That after Ivy’s ‘inevitable’ passing in a few months, he and I could just pick up where we left off, have an even better wedding. Seriously?

Enough was enough. If Ivy wanted to play bride with my life, she was going to get a taste of what happens when you push someone too far. Let's just say her hospital room celebration involved a lot more smoke, water, and screaming than she bargained for, all thanks to a little wedding gift from yours truly.

Now they know I’m not the same Hazel they could walk all over. I’ve got my company, a pile of their cash, and a whole lot of scores to settle. They think this is over? This game of revenge is just getting started. And believe me, I play to win.

Laughter filled the elegant private dining room of La Maison, one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city. Our small wedding celebration had evolved from a simple lunch into an evening affair. I couldn't remember the last time I'd smiled so much my cheeks hurt.


"And then," Vera continued, gesturing wildly with her champagne glass, "Sebastian called me at three in the morning from Paris, desperate because Hazel mentioned missing her favorite tea!"


More laughter erupted around the table. I felt my cheeks flush as Sebastian's arm tightened around my waist.


"You're exaggerating," Sebastian muttered, though his eyes danced with amusement.


"I am not!" Vera protested. "You made me search five specialty shops before I found the exact brand. And then you had me overnight it to Paris!"


Ryan, Sebastian's longtime friend and business partner, shook his head. "That tracks. Remember when he had us divert the company jet to pick up those fabric samples Hazel needed?"


Chapter 380 - A Vow for the Next Life