I stared at the calendar until my vision blurred.April 2nd, 2001.
Two years before my death.Two years before Damien Cross became my husband.Two years before Celeste slid poison down my throat.
The heavy ticking of the clock on the wall echoed like a heartbeat—my heartbeat—reminding me it was still there, strong and steady.
I wasn't dead.I wasn't dying.I was back.
My chest rose and fell rapidly as I stumbled out of bed. The floorboards creaked under my bare feet, just like they had in my old bedroom… my first bedroom in the Winters mansion, before the marriage, before I moved into Damien's cold, empty penthouse.
The vanity mirror reflected a face I hadn't seen in years. My skin was smoother, my eyes brighter, my hair longer. There were no faint stress lines from sleepless nights spent wondering why my husband avoided me.
I pressed trembling fingers against my reflection. "This… this isn't a dream."
The door burst open without warning. A familiar voice, one I used to mistake for kindness, rang out.
"Elara, you're still in bed? Father's expecting you at breakfast. He wants to talk about your engagement with Ethan."
Ethan.
The name slammed into me like ice water. My ex-fiancé—the man who'd broken off our engagement in my first life, humiliating me in front of half the city. The man who later flaunted Celeste on his arm.
My hands curled into fists.
In my last life, I'd been too meek, too trusting, too desperate for love. I'd believed Celeste's fake smiles, Father's empty words, and Ethan's false promises. And where had it gotten me? Dead on a balcony.
Not this time.
I turned slowly to face Celeste. She was younger now, her beauty untouched by the arrogance success had given her in my previous life. She smiled at me like I was a harmless kitten.
I smiled back, but there was steel in it now. "Tell Father I'll be down in a moment."
Her brows lifted slightly—she'd expected my usual flustered apology. But I watched her go without another word.
When the door closed, I sat at the vanity and looked at myself again.
If I had two years until my death, that meant I had two years to rewrite everything.Step one: break off the engagement with Ethan before he could humiliate me.Step two: remove Celeste from my life entirely.Step three: secure the one person in this city powerful enough to keep them all in check—Damien Cross.
The man who had once been my cold, indifferent husband.
But this time, I wouldn't marry him out of love.This time, I would marry him on my terms.
And when the game ended, I would be the one holding all the pieces.