The night smelled of smoke and blood.
Her blood.
Elena staggered through the shattered glass doors of the banquet hall, her trembling hands pressing against the wound in her stomach. The satin gown she had so carefully chosen for tonight was drenched in crimson, sticking to her skin. Her vision blurred, but the voices around her rang sharp and cruel, each word carving deeper than the knife that had struck her.
"You were always too stupid, Elena," a soft, mocking voice said.
She turned, her body swaying as her eyes locked on the woman standing a few feet away. Naomi. Her best friend. Or at least, that's what Elena had believed all these years. Naomi's red lips curled into a smirk, her diamond necklace glittering under the broken chandeliers.
"Naomi…" Elena's throat tightened as she spoke. "Why…?"
Naomi's laughter rang out like broken glass. "Why? Because you had what I wanted. The wealth. The family name. The man." She stepped closer, her heels clicking on the marble floor. "But you were too naïve to see it. Too soft to fight for it. You didn't deserve any of it."
Elena's heart clenched—not from the pain of the wound, but from betrayal. Her gaze shifted to the tall figure standing beside Naomi, one hand casually resting in his pocket as if the chaos meant nothing to him. His sharp features were illuminated by the flickering light, cold, detached.
Her fiancé. Daniel.
The man she had loved for years.
"Elena," Daniel said flatly, his dark eyes devoid of warmth. "You should have listened when I told you not to meddle in business you don't understand. Now look at you—pathetic."
Her lips trembled. "I gave you everything… my trust… my heart…"
"And you were useful," Daniel interrupted, his voice cutting. "Until you weren't. Your family's fortune has already fallen into my hands. You have nothing left to give me."
The knife twisted deeper—not in her stomach, but in her soul.
Her knees buckled, and she fell against the marble, her blood spreading like a cruel painting beneath her. Around her, shadows of people she once called family and friends watched, silent, uncaring. Some even looked relieved. She wanted to scream, but the strength was leaving her body.
Naomi crouched in front of her, tilting her chin up with manicured fingers. "Don't look so pitiful, Elena. You should be grateful. You were just a stepping stone, and you played your role well. Now, it's time for you to disappear."
Tears slid down Elena's cheeks, hot and bitter. She remembered her father's disappointed gaze, her mother's harsh words, her siblings' disdain. She had been abandoned by all of them—betrayed by the ones she loved most. And now, the man she thought would be her forever had handed her over to death like she was nothing.
Her chest heaved as the darkness closed in. "If… if I had another chance…" she whispered, blood bubbling at her lips. "I would never be so blind again. I would burn you all…"
Her vision dimmed.
The last thing she saw was Naomi's satisfied smile and Daniel's cold indifference.
And then—nothing.
Silence.
…
When Elena opened her eyes again, she wasn't surrounded by blood.
Instead, the scent of jasmine and bridal roses filled the air. The weight of silk pressed against her skin, and she blinked rapidly, confused. Above her, a chandelier glittered—not broken, but whole. She sat upright with a start, her hands flying to her stomach. No wound. No blood. Her gown—white, elegant, pristine—fit her like a dream.
The room around her was unfamiliar yet oddly familiar. Golden drapes, a soft velvet carpet, and… a large wedding portrait leaning against the wall.
Her own face stared back at her from the frame. Dressed in white. Smiling.
Elena's breath caught in her throat.
This was her wedding day.
Her heart pounded violently. This wasn't possible. She had been betrayed. She had died. She remembered the pain, the blood, the coldness in Daniel's eyes. She remembered her last vow.
And yet—
Her gaze darted to the full-length mirror across the room. The reflection staring back wasn't the tired, broken woman she had been. It was her younger self. Youthful. Radiant. Full of life.
Tears welled up again, but this time, they burned with something different. Rage.
"Elena," a deep voice spoke suddenly, pulling her back.
Her head whipped around. Standing at the doorway, tall and imposing in his black suit, was Adrian Blake—the man she had married but never loved in her first life. The cold husband she had treated with disdain.
Her breath hitched. She remembered ignoring him, dismissing him, even resenting him. She remembered choosing Daniel over him, only to be stabbed in the back.
But now, staring at him, something inside her shifted.
Because Adrian Blake was no ordinary man. In her last life, she had overlooked him, thinking he was just another powerful, arrogant CEO. But now she knew better. His influence had only grown, his power unmatched. He was dangerous, ruthless—and in this life, he might just be her only salvation.
Elena clenched her fists, her vow echoing in her mind.
This time… I won't be their victim.
This time… I'll use every weapon at my disposal.
Even him.
Her lips curled into the faintest smile as she whispered under her breath:
"This life, I'll rewrite everything."