Elena's breath came in short, shallow gasps as her trembling fingers brushed against the silk fabric of her wedding gown. The material was soft, cool, pristine—so different from the sticky warmth of blood that had clung to her skin only moments ago. She sat frozen on the velvet stool in front of the mirror, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs.
This wasn't real.
It couldn't be real.
She had died.
Her mind screamed at her to make sense of it, but every detail around her demanded that she accept the impossible. The jasmine perfume drifting from the bouquet of roses on the vanity. The untouched bridal veil neatly arranged beside it. The faint chatter and laughter of bridesmaids outside the door.
And the reflection staring back at her.
Young. Radiant. Alive.
Her chest tightened as tears pricked the corners of her eyes. Her fingers flew to her stomach once more, pressing frantically. Smooth skin. No wound. No blood. Just her body—whole, unscarred, untouched by betrayal.
Her lips trembled. "I… I'm back?"
The memory of Daniel's cold eyes seared into her mind, followed by Naomi's venomous laughter. Rage surged through her veins, drowning out the confusion. She remembered everything—her humiliation, her downfall, her miserable death. And then, the vow she had whispered as life slipped from her grasp.
If I had another chance…
The universe had listened.
Her tears fell freely now, hot and bitter, sliding down her cheeks. Not tears of weakness this time, but of fury. Of resolve.
"Elena?"
Her body went rigid. That voice—deep, smooth, commanding—echoed from the doorway. Slowly, she turned.
And there he was.
Adrian Blake.
Tall and broad-shouldered, his black suit tailored to perfection, his dark eyes sharp as blades. His aura radiated quiet authority, the kind that made everyone in the room instinctively fall silent. He stood with his hands in his pockets, expression unreadable, like a man carved from stone.
In her past life, she had dismissed him. She had married him under family pressure, hated the coldness in his gaze, resented his indifference. She had chased Daniel instead, clinging to the illusion of love, while ignoring the man whose power could have shielded her from everything.
And she had paid the price.
Now, looking at him again, Elena's heart twisted. She saw him differently. The man she had taken for granted wasn't just her husband. He was a fortress, a weapon, a man whose reach extended far beyond what she had ever understood.
This time, she wouldn't make the same mistake.
"Elena," Adrian said again, his voice calm but firm. "What are you doing sitting there? The ceremony is about to begin."
She blinked, realizing she must look strange—frozen, pale, eyes wide as if she had seen a ghost. Which, in a way, she had. Herself. Her past. Her death.
Her lips parted, but no words came. For a moment, she feared he would see through her, that he would sense the storm raging inside her. But Adrian merely raised a brow, his expression as cold and detached as she remembered.
Something about that familiar indifference steadied her.
She wiped her tears quickly, forcing her voice not to shake. "I… I just needed a moment."
Adrian's gaze lingered on her for a beat too long, sharp and assessing, before he gave a slight nod. "Don't keep them waiting."
Then, without another word, he turned and walked away, his footsteps fading into the corridor.
Elena let out a shaky breath, her hands clutching the fabric of her gown. Her heart still raced, but beneath the panic, a fire had begun to burn.
This was her chance. Her second life.
She wouldn't waste it.
This time, she would not trust Daniel's honeyed lies. She would not fall for Naomi's false friendship. She would not bow to her family's cruelty.
And she would not ignore Adrian Blake.
If he could be her shield, she would use him. If he could be her sword, she would wield him.
And maybe, just maybe… she would learn what it truly meant to be his wife.
The murmur of voices swelled as Elena stood, her knees unsteady beneath the weight of her gown. Every step toward the grand hall felt surreal, as if she were walking through a dream she had once lived before.
Except this wasn't a dream.
This was reality rewritten.
Her fingers curled tightly around the bouquet of lilies and roses as the double doors opened, revealing a sea of faces turned toward her. Guests whispered behind their hands, their eyes gleaming with curiosity, envy, or disdain. It was the same scene she remembered from years ago—only this time, she wasn't walking into it blindly.
Her gaze flickered across the room, landing on familiar faces.
Her father, seated in the front row, his expression stern and calculating. She remembered how he had once said she was useless, a disappointment. Her mother, with her sharp smile, more concerned with appearances than her daughter's happiness. And her siblings, all watching with cold detachment, as though she were nothing more than a pawn in the family's endless games.
Her chest tightened. In her first life, she had desperately sought their approval, bending, breaking, bleeding just to hear a single word of praise. She had given everything—only to be discarded.
Not this time.
Her lips pressed into a thin line as she lifted her chin, walking forward with steady grace. Let them look. Let them whisper. She was no longer the weak, naïve girl they could control.
At the end of the aisle, Adrian stood waiting.
He was a striking figure, tall and commanding in his dark suit, his posture straight, his expression unreadable. His gaze locked on her, sharp and steady, and for the briefest moment, Elena faltered.
In her last life, she had seen only his coldness. His silence had felt like neglect, his distance like rejection. She had pushed him away, never once trying to understand him.
But now, she wondered.
Had she been wrong all along?
Her steps slowed as she neared him. The closer she got, the heavier the air seemed to grow, pressing down on her chest. By the time she reached his side, her heart was pounding so loudly she feared the guests might hear it.
Adrian extended his hand.
For a split second, Elena hesitated. In her first life, she had taken that hand with reluctance, her heart already belonging to another. Now, as she slipped her fingers into his, she felt the strength of his grip, the warmth of his palm, and a strange sensation rippled through her chest.
A vow formed silently on her lips: This time, I won't let go so easily.
The ceremony began, the priest's voice solemn as he recited the words. Elena barely heard him. Her mind was a whirlwind of memories—Daniel's betrayal, Naomi's laughter, the coldness of her family. She replayed every moment of pain, each scar carved into her soul. And as the vows continued, she etched new promises into her heart.
When the priest turned to her, asking if she would take Adrian Blake as her husband, Elena's throat tightened.
In her past life, she had said "I do" without meaning it, her gaze sliding toward Daniel in the crowd. This time, she looked straight into Adrian's eyes.
Cold. Sharp. Watchful.
Her voice was steady, clear, filled with a conviction she hadn't possessed before.
"I do."
A flicker passed through Adrian's eyes. So brief, so subtle, that no one else would have noticed. But Elena did. And it sent a thrill racing down her spine.
The ceremony ended, and as the applause rose around them, Adrian leaned slightly closer, his voice low enough for only her to hear.
"You've changed."
Her heart skipped a beat. She forced a small smile, tilting her head. "Is that a problem?"
His gaze lingered on her, unreadable, before he finally released her hand. "We'll see."
Elena sat stiffly during the reception, her smile polite, her laughter measured. Her mind, however, was sharp and restless. She observed everything—every whispered conversation, every envious glance, every insincere smile directed her way.
Naomi wasn't here. Not yet. But Elena knew she would appear soon, slithering into her life with her false friendship and poisonous words. Elena almost smiled at the thought. Let her come. This time, she would not be caught off guard.
Daniel, however, was present.
She spotted him near the back, dressed impeccably as always, his arm around another socialite. His smirk was exactly as she remembered—smug, condescending, the smile of a man who believed he owned the world.
Her fingers tightened around the stem of her wine glass until her knuckles turned white. In her first life, that smile had disarmed her, blinded her to the rot beneath his charm. Now, it only filled her with disgust.
Daniel's gaze found hers across the room, and he lifted his glass in mock salute. The arrogance in his eyes made her stomach churn, but instead of looking away, Elena held his gaze, her expression cool, unbothered.
For the first time, Daniel's smirk faltered.
Elena allowed herself a small, victorious smile before turning back to Adrian.
He was watching her.
Not casually. Not politely. Watching. As if trying to solve a puzzle.
The intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down her spine, but she refused to look away. If he wanted to study her, then let him. This time, she wouldn't cower.
She raised her glass and met his eyes head-on. "To new beginnings," she said softly.
Adrian clinked his glass against hers, his expression unreadable. "Let's hope you mean it."
The celebrations dragged late into the night, but Elena barely tasted the food or heard the laughter. Her mind was a storm of thoughts, each one sharper than the last. She replayed Adrian's words—You've changed—over and over, turning them in her head like a blade.
Yes, she had changed. And soon, everyone would see just how much.
By the time the last toast was made and the final guest departed, exhaustion weighed on her shoulders. Yet her heart was far from tired. Her entire body thrummed with a restless energy she hadn't felt in years.
The servants escorted her to the bridal suite. She dismissed them with a calm smile, though her palms were clammy beneath the bouquet she still clutched. The door shut behind her with a soft click, leaving her in silence.
The room was lavish, lined with velvet curtains and golden accents. A wide bed sat in the center, the sheets snow-white, the pillows perfectly arranged. Candles flickered on the bedside tables, casting long, dancing shadows on the walls.
Elena placed the bouquet on the vanity, her fingers trembling slightly as she adjusted her veil. Her reflection in the mirror startled her once again—young, beautiful, untouched by sorrow. The woman who stared back wasn't broken anymore.
She whispered to herself, voice low but steady. "This time, I won't bow to anyone."
A faint sound broke her thoughts—the quiet click of the door opening.
Her pulse jumped.
Adrian entered the room.
He moved with the same unhurried confidence he had displayed all day, his tall frame filling the doorway before he closed it behind him. He had removed his jacket, his shirt sleeves rolled up, revealing strong forearms. The faint light made the sharp lines of his face even more striking, his dark eyes glinting like obsidian.
For a long moment, he didn't speak. He simply looked at her.
Elena's throat went dry under his gaze. She forced herself to turn toward him, lifting her chin slightly. "You're late."
One of his brows arched. "Impatient, are we?"
Her lips twitched. "Not impatient. Just… observant."
Adrian stepped closer, his shoes silent against the carpet. The air between them thickened, every inch of space shrinking with his approach. When he finally stopped a few feet away, she could feel the weight of his presence pressing down on her.
"You've been different all day," he said quietly. "Calmer. Sharper." His gaze swept over her face, unblinking. "In our first hours of marriage, you already surprise me."
Elena's heart pounded, but she met his eyes with steady resolve. "Would you rather I stayed predictable?"
Adrian studied her for a moment, the corner of his mouth lifting in something that wasn't quite a smile. "Predictability is convenient. But it's also boring."
Her pulse skipped.
Silence fell, heavy and suffocating. She felt the heat rising in her cheeks, the thrum of adrenaline in her veins. In her past life, she had avoided moments like this, hiding behind her disdain and chasing Daniel instead. Now, she stood her ground, even as her body screamed at her to look away.
Finally, Adrian moved past her, loosening his tie as he walked toward the dresser. He set it down carefully, his movements precise, deliberate. "This marriage was arranged, Elena. You know that."
Her stomach twisted. Yes, she remembered. She had hated it then. But now…
Her voice was firm, surprising even herself. "Maybe arrangements can change."
Adrian's hand stilled on the dresser. He turned his head slightly, his eyes catching hers in the mirror. For a heartbeat, something flickered there—interest, suspicion, curiosity.
He studied her as if she were a puzzle he intended to solve.
Elena's pulse raced, but she didn't flinch. She let him look, let him wonder. This was only the beginning.
Adrian finally turned away, his tone cool. "We'll see."
He moved toward the bed, unhurried, his posture as composed as ever. He didn't touch her, didn't claim her, didn't even reach for her. Instead, he simply sat at the edge, undoing the cuffs of his shirt as if she weren't even there.
But Elena could feel it. The weight of his presence. The silent command in every movement. The promise of something dangerous lurking beneath his calm.
She inhaled deeply, forcing her heartbeat to steady.
This was Adrian Blake—the man she had ignored, underestimated, even despised.
Not anymore.
If she was to rewrite her fate, it would start here. With him.
She turned toward the mirror once more, her reflection gazing back at her with sharp, determined eyes.
This time… I'll play the game differently.
Outside, the wind howled against the windows. Inside, silence stretched, tense and unbroken.
And so, the first night of their marriage began—not with passion, not with tenderness, but with an unspoken challenge hanging heavy in the air.