The rain poured relentlessly against the towering windows of the Cross Corporation penthouse, each drop slicing through the night like the tears Elena Hart could no longer shed. She sat alone in the vast living room, surrounded by wealth and luxury that meant nothing anymore. The crystal chandelier sparkled above her head, mocking her misery.
This was her wedding anniversary.
She should have been smiling, wrapped in her husband's arms, celebrating their union. Instead, she sat in silence, a half-empty wine glass trembling between her fingers. Her heart felt as heavy as the storm raging outside.
Where was Damian Cross—her husband, the man she had given up everything for?
Not here. Not with her.
Her lips curled in a bitter smile. Of course not.
Once upon a time, Elena believed she was the luckiest woman in the world. Damian was cold, but he was brilliant—an untouchable CEO, the kind of man every woman in the city dreamed of marrying. And he had chosen her. Or so she thought.
But tonight, the illusion shattered completely.
The phone on the coffee table buzzed again. For the tenth time that night.
Elena reached for it with shaking fingers, already knowing who it was. A message blinked on the screen.
> Sophia Lane: Happy anniversary, darling. I'll make sure Damian spends it with me tonight.
Her chest constricted, the air leaving her lungs. Sophia. Her best friend. Her sister in everything but blood. The woman who had stood beside her at her wedding, who had whispered promises of loyalty and love.
The woman who had stolen her husband.
"No…" Elena whispered, her voice breaking. "It can't be…"
But she knew it was true. The late nights at the office. The cold, dismissive stares. The excuses. Damian's increasing distance, his disdainful words whenever she tried to reach him.
Her best friend had taken her husband.
Her vision blurred. She dropped the phone, the device clattering to the floor.
"Damian…" she whispered, clinging to the hope that he would walk through that door, that he would deny it all, that he would choose her.
The front door opened. For a fleeting moment, her heart leapt.
But the man who stepped in didn't even look at her. His sharp suit was immaculate, his dark hair damp from the rain. His cold aura filled the room.
Damian Cross. Her husband.
"Damian…" she breathed, her voice cracking. "You're home."
He didn't answer. Didn't smile. Didn't even acknowledge the desperation in her voice. He walked past her, shrugging off his coat and tossing it carelessly on the sofa.
Elena stood, gripping her dress tightly in trembling fists. "Where were you?" she asked.
His brows furrowed in irritation. "Don't start."
Her heart shattered. He didn't deny it.
"You were with her," she whispered.
Damian finally looked at her, his gaze icy, filled with disdain. "And so what if I was?"
Her entire world collapsed.
She stumbled back, shaking her head. "I gave you everything, Damian! My love, my loyalty, my life—I gave up my family for you!"
Damian's lips curled into a cruel smirk. "And I never asked for any of it. You forced your way into my life, Elena. Don't pretend this marriage was anything but a mistake."
Tears burned her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. "A mistake?" Her voice cracked. "Was I nothing more than that to you?"
"You were convenient," he said coldly. "But Sophia… she is the woman I should have married."
The words struck her like a blade to the chest.
Sophia.
Her best friend.
The room spun around her. She pressed a trembling hand to her lips, struggling to breathe.
"How… how could you?" she whispered, her voice breaking. "How could you betray me like this?"
Damian's eyes narrowed, sharp and unforgiving. "Stop playing the victim. You're pathetic, Elena. That's why I despise you."
Her knees gave way, and she sank onto the sofa, her body trembling violently.
She wanted to scream. She wanted to claw the smug look off his face. But all she could do was sit there, broken, as the man she had loved for years tore her apart piece by piece.
The storm outside raged louder, thunder shaking the walls.
"I wasted everything on you," she whispered.
Damian glanced at her with disdain, then turned to leave the room. "This marriage is over, Elena. Sign the divorce papers tomorrow. After that, we're done."
And just like that, he walked away.
Her husband. Her best friend. The people she trusted most. They had destroyed her.
Elena's chest constricted painfully, her vision fading at the edges. She clutched at her heart, gasping for air.
"Not like this…" she whispered desperately. "Not like this…"
But fate was merciless.
Her body gave out, collapsing onto the floor. The last thing she heard was the sound of Damian's cold footsteps fading into the distance.
And then—darkness.
---
Elena expected nothing after death. Only emptiness.
But instead, she opened her eyes.
Sunlight streamed through lace curtains. The room smelled faintly of roses and lavender. Her heart pounded as she sat up, confusion flooding her mind.
This… wasn't the penthouse.
It was her old bedroom.
Her eyes darted to the mirror on the vanity across the room. The reflection staring back at her wasn't the broken, pale woman she had become.
It was her younger self.
Her skin smooth, her eyes bright, her body full of life.
Elena's lips trembled. "This… this is impossible."
Her gaze fell on the calendar on the wall. Her heart stopped.
It was five years ago.
The days before her marriage to Damian Cross.
Elena's entire body shook. She grabbed her chest, trying to calm her racing heartbeat.
She was alive. She was back.
Tears spilled down her cheeks—tears of disbelief, of rage, of determination.
Fate had given her another chance.
This time, she wouldn't be the naive fool who trusted blindly.
This time, she wouldn't let Damian or Sophia destroy her.
This time, she would burn everything in her path until they paid for every ounce of pain they caused her.
Her lips curved into a cold, determined smile.
Elena Hart had been reborn.
And this time, she would not be married to the wrong man.