The smell of lilies was suffocating. To anyone else, it was the fragrance of love and celebration, but to Evelyn Miller, it smelled like a funeral. She stood before the floor-to-ceiling mirror, her reflection a ghost in a cloud of white silk and lace. Her vision was slightly blurred by the heavy veil, or perhaps it was the unshed tears of a woman who had already lived—and died—once.
Today was her wedding day. Two years ago, on this very day, she had stood in this same room, heart racing with a foolish, innocent love for Marcus. She had thought she was the luckiest woman in the world.
In her past life, this was the beginning of her slow descent into hell.
"Evelyn, dear, you look stunning. Marcus is so lucky to have you. I can already hear the guests whispering about the Miller family's beautiful bride," a voice dripping with honeyed poison echoed from the doorway.
Evelyn's entire body went rigid. Her fingers, cold as ice, clutched the delicate silk of her gown so hard that the fabric groaned. She didn't need to turn around to know it was Cynthia, her step-sister—the woman who had looked into her eyes while she was dying and told her that her father's death hadn't been an accident.
In her previous life, Cynthia and Marcus had been a team. While Evelyn played the role of the perfect wife, they were dismantling her father's legacy, piece by piece. They had stolen her wealth, framed her for corporate espionage, and finally, trapped her in a burning mansion to ensure she could never speak the truth.
But the universe had played a mysterious trick. Evelyn had woken up this morning in her old bed, her heart beating, her skin unburned. She had returned to the morning of her wedding, just hours before the disaster was set to begin again.
"Thank you, Cynthia," Evelyn said. Her voice was flat, devoid of the warmth she used to have. She turned slowly, her eyes hidden behind the intricate lace of the veil. "Are the guests arriving? Is my father... is he downstairs?"
"Of course! Your father is greeting the elders. He looks so proud," Cynthia smiled, though her eyes flickered with a familiar, burning envy. Cynthia had always wanted what Evelyn had: the Miller name, the diamond tiara, and most of all, the man who stood at the end of the aisle.
"Good," Evelyn whispered. "Let everyone watch carefully today. This wedding will be a day they never forget."
Cynthia chuckled, oblivious to the frost in Evelyn's tone. "You're just nervous, dear. I'll go check on Marcus. He's probably just as anxious as you."
As soon as the door clicked shut, Evelyn's facade crumbled. She gasped for air, her lungs burning. She didn't have much time. She had exactly twenty minutes before her father would come to walk her down the aisle—an aisle that led straight to her grave.
She opened her silk clutch and pulled out a burner phone she had hidden earlier that morning. A single message was waiting: 'The black Rolls Royce is stationed at the service entrance. The driver knows the signal. Five minutes.'
Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. She wasn't going to walk toward Marcus. She was going to make a deal with the only man in the city who had the power to crush Marcus like an insect—the man Marcus feared and envied above all others: Liam Carter, the 'Devil of the North'.
In her past life, Liam Carter had been a legend—a ruthless billionaire with a heart made of obsidian. He was Marcus's biggest rival, and Marcus had spent years trying to sabotage him. If Evelyn wanted to survive, she needed a shield. She needed a monster to fight a wolf.
"Cynthia!" Evelyn called out loudly, making sure her voice sounded frantic.
Cynthia poked her head back in. "Yes?"
"I... I think I left my mother's sapphire necklace in the safe in the study. I can't get married without it. It's my only luck. Can you run and get it? Please? My legs are shaking too much," Evelyn pleaded, faking a fragile, tearful smile.
Cynthia's eyes widened at the mention of the sapphire necklace—a priceless heirloom. "Don't worry, I'll get it! Just stay here and don't ruin your makeup!"
The moment Cynthia's footsteps faded down the hall, Evelyn moved. She grabbed the heavy train of her wedding dress, bunching the expensive fabric in her arms. She didn't head for the grand staircase. Instead, she slipped through a hidden door behind a tapestry—a servant's passage she had discovered as a child.
She ran, the sound of her own breathing loud in the narrow corridor. Her lungs ached, and the weight of the dress threatened to trip her, but she didn't stop. She burst through the heavy iron door of the service entrance, the cold morning air hitting her face like a slap.
A sleek, black Rolls Royce was idling in the shadows of the old oak trees. The windows were tinted, reflecting the gray sky. As she approached, the back door swung open.
Evelyn didn't hesitate. She climbed inside, the massive white dress spilling over the expensive leather seats like a dying cloud. The interior of the car smelled of sandalwood and power.
Sitting in the corner was a man whose presence felt like a physical weight. Liam Carter was dressed in a sharp black suit, his fingers tapping rhythmically on a tablet. He didn't look up at first.
"You're late, Miss Miller," he said. His voice was a deep, dangerous baritone that sent shivers down her spine. "I don't like waiting, especially for brides who should be at the altar."
Evelyn pushed back her veil, revealing her pale, determined face. Her eyes were no longer those of a terrified girl, but of a woman who had walked through fire. "I'm not a bride anymore, Mr. Carter. I'm a business partner."
Liam finally looked at her. His eyes were dark, calculating, and impossibly sharp. He took in her disheveled hair and the desperation in her posture, but his expression remained a mask of stone. "A business partner? You're wearing a million-dollar wedding dress and running away from the man you supposedly love. What could you possibly offer me?"
Evelyn leaned forward, her voice dropping to a fierce whisper. "I have the encrypted files from Marcus's private server. I know he's been funneling money from your harbor project into offshore accounts. I know who his mole is inside your company. And I'll give it all to you."
Liam's eyes narrowed. The tapping of his fingers stopped. "And the price?"
"I want you to marry me," Evelyn said, the words clear and unwavering. "Not for love. For a contract. I want the world to see that the Miller Group is now under the protection of the Carter family. I want Marcus to watch as I take back everything he tried to steal, and I want him to know that if he touches me, he's touching you."
Liam smirked—a dark, predatory curve of his lips. He leaned closer, his scent overpowering the lilies on her dress. "You're asking the Devil to protect you from a wolf, Evelyn. Do you have any idea how dangerous I am?"
"I've already died once, Mr. Carter," she whispered, her gaze locked with his. "A ghost isn't afraid of the Devil."
Outside, the church bells began to toll, signaling the start of the ceremony. In the chapel, Marcus would be standing at the altar, smiling at the guests, waiting for a bride who would never arrive.
Liam looked at the church, then back at the woman in front of him. He reached out, his gloved hand tilting her chin up. "Fine. Let's go start a war."
The Rolls Royce roared to life, speeding away from the mansion and leaving the 'Wedding of the Century' in the dust.