Lily Davenport had been told all her life that she was lucky. Lucky to be born into wealth. Lucky to have parents who adored her. Lucky to be blessed with beauty, brains, and charm that made people stop and stare whenever she walked into a room. Her life was a fairy tale stitched together with silk and gold.
Her mornings were filled with the sweet aroma of imported coffee, her evenings with laughter and luxury dinners, and her nights with Charles. Perfect Charles her fiancé, her soon-to-be husband, the man everyone said was her perfect match. He was handsome in that classic, timeless way, with eyes that softened whenever they landed on her. Together, they were the couple that made others whisper in admiration.
And Lily believed it. She believed her life was untouchable.
Until the night the dream came.
It started innocently, as most dreams do. Lily drifted off on her king-sized bed, the soft hum of the chandelier lights fading as sleep pulled her under. But when she opened her eyes again, the world was wrong. Terribly, horrifyingly wrong.
The mansion was gone.
In its place stood a crumbling apartment. The air reeked of stale alcohol and smoke, and the glittering silk sheets had turned to a rough, itchy blanket. Lily's delicate hands usually polished with glossy nails were cracked and bruised. And worse, they weren't empty. She was holding a baby. Her baby. The child's cries pierced the silence, loud and desperate, as if echoing her own misery.
Beside her, sprawled on the couch, was a man. Not Charles. Not even close. His shirt was stained with liquor, his body slack with drunkenness. His snores rattled the silence as if mocking her.
Lily's chest tightened. She wanted to scream, to wake herself, to claw her way out of this nightmare. But before she could, the scene shifted again.
This time, she stood in front of twisted metal. A car wreck. Smoke curled into the air, and her legs nearly gave out when she saw what was inside. Her parents. Their faces pale, lifeless, forever frozen in that last moment of tragedy.
"No!" Lily cried, reaching out, but her feet wouldn't move. Her voice felt like a whisper lost to the wind.
And then came the shadows. Faces familiar yet distant her father's relatives, swooping in like vultures. They tore through documents, their voices sharp and greedy as they argued over wealth, land, property. Her parents' empire was stolen piece by piece before her eyes.
Lily's heart broke. Her parents gone. Charles gone. Her fortune gone. And she left behind, abandoned, drowning in misery.
The dream ended not with her waking but with silence. An echo of emptiness that clung to her even as her eyes shot open.
She gasped. The silk sheets felt like chains. The chandelier above her seemed dimmer. She pressed a trembling hand to her chest, feeling her heart race like a trapped bird.
"It was a dream," she whispered, trying to convince herself. "Just a dream."
But it didn't feel like one.
The images were too sharp, too real. Her hands still shook as though they remembered the weight of that crying child. Her ears still rang with the greedy voices of her relatives. Her chest still ached from seeing her parents lifeless in that wreck.
And worst of all she knew when it would happen.
Two years.
The timeline had been clear in the dream. Two years until her parents' accident. Two years until Charles disappeared from her life. Two years until she was stripped of everything.
She stumbled out of bed, clutching the curtains as sunlight spilled into the room. But even the sun felt cold.
At breakfast, she tried to act normal. Her parents chatted happily across the long dining table, her father's voice booming with plans for another business venture, her mother smiling over her cup of tea. They were alive. Healthy. Vibrant.
And yet Lily couldn't stop staring at them, memorizing their faces as if they might vanish any moment.
Charles joined them that morning, as he often did. His smile was warm, his kiss on her forehead tender. "Good morning, love," he said softly, eyes searching hers.
But Lily couldn't bring herself to smile back fully. The dream clung to her like a shadow. For the first time in her charmed life, she looked at Charles and wondered was love enough to fight fate?
She excused herself early, claiming a headache. Upstairs, she sank into her bed once more, staring at the ceiling.
The dream had stolen tomorrow. And no matter how hard she tried to ignore it, Lily knew deep in her soul it wasn't a dream at all.
It was a warning.