The air felt heavier than anything Isabella had ever breathed. When she opened her eyes, the world around her shimmered with soft gold light, like sunlight breaking through mist. Her heartbeat came slow at first, then faster, as if testing the boundaries of a new body. She lay on a velvet chaise lounge, surrounded by the faint scent of lavender and wine. The room was ornate, lined with mirrors and pale curtains that fluttered from a half-open window.
She blinked twice. The hands before her weren't hers. They were slender, fair, and marked with a tiny scar near the wrist. She sat up, confusion rising in her chest, until a whisper echoed in her mind—a calm, measured voice that carried no emotion.
"Mission initializing. You have entered the body of Elena Miller, age twenty-seven. Time of entry: six months before the Houston wedding."
Her eyes widened. The voice belonged to Athena, the system that had appeared in that endless void after death. Isabella could still remember that last moment—the silence after her prayer, then the brilliance that pulled her away from pain. Now, here she was, alive again, breathing as someone else.
She stood and approached the mirror. The woman reflected there was beautiful in a quiet, steady way. Chestnut hair framed her pale face, and her eyes, a deeper shade of green than Isabella's original ones, carried both innocence and weariness.
"This is real," she whispered. "I'm… her."
Athena's voice sounded again. "Confirming identity acceptance. Memory integration begins."
The world tilted. A wave of nausea surged through her as fragments of Elena's life poured into her mind—birthday laughter, a small coastal town, shared secrets with Evelyn, the twin sister everyone adored. Elena, the quieter one, who painted instead of attending social banquets, who was engaged to no one but always stayed in her sister's shadow.
Then, another flash.
Evelyn's engagement party. Flashbulbs. Reporters. The proud Houston family smiling for cameras. Richard Houston, the billionaire heir, tall, handsome, reserved. Evelyn's hand looped around his arm. And behind those perfect smiles—lies. Evelyn's heart belonged to another man. Tom Sterling, her lover in secret.
The memory shifted again. The wedding day. Evelyn's pale face beneath her veil. The moment she dropped the bouquet and fled the ceremony, leaving Richard humiliated before hundreds of guests. The gasps, the laughter, the flashes of cameras. The Houston family's empire collapsed under ridicule, investors pulled out, and within months Richard's father suffered a stroke that took his life. Richard withdrew from public life, his name synonymous with failure.
The final memory froze her—the image of Richard alone in a vast penthouse, a gun trembling in his hand.
"Stop," Isabella gasped, clutching her head.
Athena's voice steadied her. "These are anchor memories. They define the core event you must prevent."
Her pulse raced. "He was destroyed because Evelyn ran away."
"Correct. His suicide follows the loss of reputation and purpose. Your mission is to alter the sequence of choices leading to his death. You must ensure Richard Houston never reaches that breaking point."
"And if I fail?"
"You die," Athena said plainly. "Permanently. Your soul will not be recycled or recalled."
The silence stretched. Isabella swallowed hard. "So I change his fate to save my own."
"In essence, yes."
Her knees felt weak. She sat back on the chaise, thinking of how she had once lived her own life by others' will—her father's manipulation, her loveless marriage, Julian's betrayal. Now she was given another chance, not for herself, but to fix someone else's tragedy.
She turned toward the window. Outside, the evening sun bathed the estate gardens in soft amber light. Somewhere in this timeline, Richard Houston was alive, unaware that his bride's twin sister carried another soul entirely.
"Where do I start?" she asked quietly.
Athena responded with precision. "Observation. You have six months before the wedding. Study the subjects involved—Evelyn Miller, Tom Sterling, and Richard Houston. Identify the emotional catalysts that led to the collapse."
"I remember Evelyn's face at the altar," Isabella murmured. "She didn't look happy."
"She wasn't," Athena said. "Her love for Tom Sterling conflicted with her family's ambition. Their father arranged the marriage to secure business influence. Sound familiar?"
A chill passed through Isabella. "Yes," she whispered. "Exactly like mine."
For a long time, she sat in silence, letting the wind move the curtains and her thoughts settle. Then, with new determination, she rose.
"I'll stop it," she said. "No one deserves to die because of someone else's greed."
"Confirmed," Athena said. "Mission parameters locked. Your first task is to attend tomorrow's family dinner. Evelyn and your father will be present. Observe closely."
The voice faded, leaving Isabella alone with her heartbeat and her racing mind.
That night, she couldn't sleep. She lay in the soft bed of Elena's room, staring at the ceiling, feeling both alive and borrowed. Her thoughts drifted to Richard—the man in the memories, humiliated yet dignified. She felt an ache she didn't expect. He reminded her of the man she once loved, the one she lost because of her father's ambitions.
The morning light came too soon.
The Miller mansion was alive with noise. Maids hurried, cooks shouted orders, and Evelyn's laughter echoed through the halls. Isabella—Elena now—descended the grand staircase, her dress brushing against the polished floor. When she saw Evelyn, it was like staring into a distorted reflection. They were identical, but Evelyn's beauty burned brighter, polished by vanity and charm.
"Ellie!" Evelyn said with her perfect smile. "You're up early. You look pale."
"Didn't sleep much," Isabella replied softly.
Evelyn shrugged. "You worry too much. Everything's perfect. Father says the Houston deal is our family's biggest win yet. Once I'm married to Richard, we'll finally have influence over the biggest energy firm in the country."
The words stung. Isabella smiled faintly. "And love?"
Evelyn laughed, her tone airy and sharp. "Love? That's for stories, dear. Security is what matters."
The moment froze her. She remembered hearing the same words from her father years ago. "Love is for children, Isabella. Marry Julian. He will make us powerful."
History was repeating itself.
Later that evening, she stood by the garden balcony as the family gathered for dinner. The sun dipped behind the estate, casting long shadows. Evelyn chatted animatedly about wedding gowns while their father discussed company shares. Isabella barely listened. Her mind replayed Athena's warning—prevent the emotional collapse.
After dinner, she found herself alone in the hall when a servant approached. "Miss Elena, Mr. Sterling is waiting by the back gate. He said it's urgent."
Her heart skipped. Tom Sterling. Evelyn's secret lover.
She followed quietly, her mind sharp. Behind the mansion, by the dimly lit garden gate, a tall man waited. His black coat shimmered slightly in the moonlight, his expression tense.
"Elena," he said in relief. "Thank God you came. I thought Evelyn sent you."
"I'm here instead," she said evenly. "You shouldn't be around. The staff could talk."
He exhaled. "I know. I needed to see her. She won't answer my letters. She says she's marrying Houston, but she doesn't love him. She loves me."
Isabella studied him carefully. He looked sincere, desperate. Yet something about his words felt rehearsed.
"You're asking her to ruin her family's plans," Isabella said.
"I'm asking her to follow her heart," he replied sharply.
She tilted her head. "And what happens when her family cuts her off? When Richard loses everything because of a scandal? Have you thought that far?"
He frowned, taken aback. "Why are you saying this?"
"Because love without thought is destruction."
He stared at her, then sighed. "You sound nothing like Evelyn."
Good, she thought. "Tell her that."
He left soon after, his footsteps fading into the night. Isabella remained still, the wind tugging at her hair. The future was fragile here. One wrong step and the same tragedy would unfold.
When she returned to her room, Athena's voice came quietly. "Deviation successful. Subject Tom Sterling's confidence decreased by twelve percent."
"So he doubts her now," Isabella murmured.
"For now," Athena said. "Emotional trajectories shift rapidly. Continue observation."
She sat at her desk and opened Elena's journal, flipping to a blank page. She began writing everything she remembered—Richard's humiliation, his father's death, the public shame. Each detail became a thread she needed to cut or reweave.
Days turned into weeks. Evelyn's wedding preparations intensified. Isabella watched, listened, and subtly guided. She convinced Evelyn to meet Richard more often, under the pretense of bonding before marriage. She saw Richard then—a quiet man with eyes too tired for his age, polite but detached. He rarely smiled.
Once, at a family dinner, he caught her watching him. For a brief second, their eyes met, and something unfamiliar flickered across his face—recognition, or maybe confusion.
After he left that evening, Athena spoke again. "Emotional link detected. Subject Richard Houston shows increased neural resonance toward you, not Evelyn."
Isabella froze. "What are you saying?"
"Your presence alters his emotional focus. Be careful. Attachment outside target parameters can lead to instability."
"I'm not trying to—" she stopped. "He's not supposed to notice me."
"Human emotions rarely follow rules," Athena replied.
As the wedding day approached, the tension in the house thickened. Evelyn grew restless, sneaking away for meetings Isabella pretended not to notice. Their father remained blinded by profit, praising his daughter's alliance. And Isabella kept her secret, aware that time was running out.
Two nights before the wedding, Evelyn appeared in her room, her eyes red. "Ellie, I can't do it. I can't marry him. I love Tom."
"You'll destroy him if you run," Isabella said quietly.
"I'll destroy myself if I stay."
"Maybe this isn't about you," Isabella said sharply. "Maybe it's about the lives that will crumble if you walk away."
Evelyn glared. "Since when did you care about business?"
"Since I learned what it costs to trade love for power."
Evelyn said nothing. She left in silence, her footsteps fading down the hall. Isabella's chest ached, knowing that history was pulling hard toward its tragic pattern.
At midnight, Athena's voice returned, calm but urgent. "Fluctuations detected. Subject Evelyn Miller's probability of elopement has risen to eighty-seven percent. Subject Richard Houston's emotional collapse predicted within seventy-two hours."
Isabella stood from her bed, heart pounding. "Then we stop it tonight."
"Confirmed," Athena said. "Initiate intervention protocol."
And as Isabella hurried through the dark halls of the mansion, the moonlight catching on her borrowed skin, she knew that fate had started its countdown again—but this time, she wouldn't let it end the same way.