"Maybe this is what it was always meant to be."
Standing by the balcony, Anna stared down at the phone in her trembling hand. On its screen was the image that shattered what little hope she had left—her husband, Daniel, tangled in bed with her sister, Kathrine.
Her chest constricted painfully. Kathrine, the woman Daniel was supposed to marry.
Anna had always known Daniel's heart belonged to her sister. Everyone had. But the day Kathrine fled, leaving him humiliated before the world and their families, Anna had been pushed into her place like a sacrificial lamb. To save her parents from disgrace. To calm Daniel's rage. To patch up a scandal that could have destroyed them all.
And she had obeyed. Always the obedient daughter.
She had tried to mold herself into the wife Daniel might one day see. She shed the weight she had once hidden behind, learned to cook his favorite dishes, reshaped her life to fit his tastes. Every day had been a desperate attempt to prove she was worthy.
But Daniel remained ice. Remote. Indifferent.
The only time she had seen cracks in his armor was the night of their consummation. His desire then had been raw, overwhelming—enough to burn through her defenses and leave her clinging to him in a haze of hope. That one night had given her something precious.
A child.
But it had also been the last night she truly had him. From then on, Daniel disappeared into work and cold silence, leaving her alone in the vast mansion that felt more like a gilded cage.
She had borne her solitude with quiet resilience, speaking to her unborn child as though it were her only confidant. Whispering her sorrows, her longing, her love.
But fate had been cruel.
Her child was gone before it could take its first breath. And Daniel… he hadn't even flinched. No comfort. No acknowledgment. No grief to share. He had left her to bleed, to suffer, to bury her pain alone.
And now, this.
This photo of him with Kathrine. Her sister's return had reignited what never truly died between them.
A bitter laugh escaped her lips, brittle and sharp as glass. She lowered her free hand to her stomach, caressing the emptiness where life had once stirred.
"Your father never even knew you existed," she whispered. "Maybe it's better this way. Growing up without love… without him… would have broken you."
Her voice cracked. Tears blurred the city lights as she lifted her gaze to the endless sky. A final clarity settled over her chest, calm but heavy.
"It's time," she breathed. "Time to leave this place. To leave Daniel. To start again, away from this misery."
She had loved him. Against her own reason, against every warning her heart had screamed, she had fallen. But Daniel was never hers. He had always been Kathrine's, and she had only ever been the substitute.
Anna tightened her grip on the phone, her thumb hovering over the damning photo one last time—when suddenly, a cold hand gripped her arm.
Her eyes widened.
Before she could scream, before she could even turn—she was shoved.
The world tilted, wind whipping past her ears as her body plummeted. The marble courtyard rushed up to meet her in a cruel embrace.
And as pain tore through her bones and darkness closed in, the last thing she remembered was the taste of betrayal—sharp and bitter—as the life inside her slipped away.
....
"Madam… madam!"
Anna's chest heaved as she gasped, dragging in air as though she had just clawed her way back from drowning. Her eyes shot open, landing on the anxious figure standing before her.
Mariam.
The head maid. The woman who had practically raised Daniel.
Anna blinked rapidly, her vision swimming, her mind spinning. Mariam's wrinkled face was etched with worry.
"Madam, is everything all right? Did you not like the arrangements?" Mariam's voice was careful, hesitant, as if afraid of offending.
Arrangements?
Anna frowned, confusion lacing her expression. The last thing she remembered was the balcony. The shove. The sickening rush of air as she plummeted. The agony of her body shattering.
But now—
Her eyes dropped, and her breath caught in her throat.
A white gown clung to her trembling frame. Satin and lace. Familiar.
Her wedding dress.
Her lips parted in disbelief. "Why… why am I wearing this?"
Mariam's concern deepened, her hands fluttering nervously at her sides. "Should I call the doctor, madam? You look pale."
Anna shook her head sharply, then grabbed Mariam's arm in desperation. "Mariam… tell me. Is this—" her voice cracked, "—is this my wedding day?"
The older woman froze, blinking at her as though she had gone mad. Everyone in this household knew Anna was a substitute bride, the pitiful replacement for Kathrine. To hear Anna ask such a question now… it unsettled her deeply.
But for Anna, that hesitation was enough.
Her heart dropped. Her suspicions solidified.
Holy hell.
She was reborn.
Her grip slackened, hand slipping from Mariam's sleeve as reality crashed over her. She had died. She had felt it. The ground had swallowed her, the darkness had claimed her. Someone had pushed her to her death.
And yet here she was. Standing in the very beginning. On the very day her life had been signed away to Daniel.
Her knees buckled, but she forced herself to remain upright. The overwhelming swirl of emotions threatened to drown her, but through the haze of disbelief, one truth burned clear:
She was back. And she had a chance.
"I'll… I'll call the doctor," Mariam murmured again, her tone uncertain, already taking a step back.
"No."
The word snapped sharper than Anna intended, halting the maid in her tracks. Mariam's anxious gaze darted over her face, but Anna turned away, her movements stiff and robotic as she walked to the bed.
Thud.
She dropped onto the mattress like a discarded doll, her eyes unfocused, her body numb. From the corner of her eye, she could see Mariam still hovering, torn between duty and unease.
"I'm fine, Mariam," Anna said quietly, though her tone was firm. "You may leave."
Reluctance lingered in the old woman's eyes, but habit won over hesitation. With a bow, Mariam retreated, leaving Anna alone in the vast chamber.
The silence pressed in on her.
Her wedding night. She remembered it all—the nerves that had tied her stomach in knots, the shame of stepping into a role that was never meant for her, the suffocating weight of knowing Daniel despised her. He hadn't even bothered to come that night. She had been left trembling in this very room, waiting, abandoned before the marriage had even begun.
Anna's fingers curled into the sheets.
But not this time.
Never again.
The weak, desperate woman she had once been was gone. This was a second chance, and she would not squander it by shackling herself to Daniel's cold indifference, nor by clinging to a love that had never been hers.
She would not let history repeat itself.
"This marriage was a mistake from the start," she whispered, her voice low but fierce. "And so was I—for agreeing to it."
Her heart pounded as resolve hardened inside her chest.
"No…" Her hand slammed against the bedpost, the crack of impact echoing in the room. She stood abruptly, her gown swaying around her like storm-tossed waves.
"I won't let Daniel hurt me again."
"Who is hurting who?"
The voice sliced through the silence like a blade.
Anna's head snapped up, her heart lurching in her chest. Standing in the doorway was the very man she had been vowing to escape—Daniel.
He strolled inside with the easy arrogance of a man who knew the world bent to his will. One hand was shoved casually into his pocket, his tailored suit hugging his broad frame. He was devastatingly handsome, with sharp features and piercing blue eyes that could freeze or burn, depending on his mood.
But he was not hers. He had never been. He belonged to Kathrine.
Anna's breath hitched, though she quickly masked it, refusing to let him see her falter.
Daniel's gaze swept over her, his eyes narrowing as though scrutinizing every flicker of her expression. Then his lips curved into a humorless chuckle.
"Mariam said you looked pale," he drawled, his voice laced with mockery. "But you look perfectly fine to me. Dramatic as ever, aren't you?"
Anna's brows furrowed. His tone dripped disdain, the same disdain that had once cut her to the bone. The old Anna would have shrunk beneath it, scrambling to please him, desperate for a crumb of warmth.
But not anymore.
This time, she refused to play the pitiful substitute.
She lifted her chin, her voice steady and sharper than he'd ever heard. "Good. If I look fine, then I suppose I'm fine enough to discuss something important."
His brow arched, interest flickering in his icy eyes. "Oh?"
Anna took a breath, her hands curling into fists at her sides. She forced herself to meet his gaze, to hold it without wavering.
"I want a divorce."