The night air was cold against Elena Chen's skin, but the betrayal burning in her chest was colder.
She stood at the edge of the balcony, her silk robe slipping from one shoulder, her bare feet numb against the marble floor. Below, the glittering lights of the city blurred through her tears.
"Elena, darling." Her stepmother's voice dripped with false sweetness. "Come inside. You'll catch a chill."
Elena didn't turn around. She couldn't look at that woman's face—not after what she'd just heard.
"I heard everything, Camilla." Her voice came out steadier than she felt. "The embezzlement. The forged signatures. The way you and Father sold me to Alexander Wolfe like a prize heifer."
Behind her, a sharp intake of breath. Then a laugh. Low, amused, and utterly devoid of warmth.
"Oh, you stupid girl." Camilla's footsteps clicked across the terrace. "You think I care if you know? The contracts are signed. The marriage is done. In the eyes of the law, you belong to Alexander Wolfe now."
Elena's hands gripped the railing until her knuckles went white. Alexander Wolfe. The name was a curse on her tongue. Three years of marriage to the cold, calculating tycoon, and she had learned one thing: she was nothing to him but a pawn in his corporate empire.
"I'll divorce him." She finally turned, meeting Camilla's smug smile with defiance. "I'll expose everything you've done."
Camilla's smile didn't waver. "Will you?"
She took a step forward. Then another. Elena's back pressed against the railing.
"You see, Elena," Camilla murmured, her eyes glinting under the moonlight, "that's exactly what we can't allow."
A pair of hands—strong, brutal—shoved Elena from behind.
She didn't even have time to scream.
The fall was endless. Wind ripped through her hair, tore the breath from her lungs. The city lights spun into a blur of gold and black. And in that final, terrible moment, she heard a voice she hadn't expected.
"Elena!"
It was Alexander. She saw him now—rushing onto the balcony above, his face twisted with something she'd never seen on him before. Fear.
His hand reached for her, but he was too late.
The ground rushed up. Darkness swallowed her.
And then—
---
Light.
Elena gasped, her lungs burning, her body jerking upright. Her hands flew to her chest, to her face, searching for the pain that should be there. But there was nothing. No broken bones. No blood.
She was in a bed. A familiar bed.
Her childhood bedroom.
The walls were the same pale blue she'd chosen when she was sixteen. The vanity still held her mother's antique jewelry box. The window overlooked the garden where she'd played as a child.
"No." Her voice cracked. "No, this isn't—this can't be—"
She scrambled out of bed, her legs shaking, and stumbled to the mirror.
Her face. Younger. No dark circles under her eyes. No hollow cheeks from the months of silent starvation in Alexander's penthouse. She looked like she had… before.
Her gaze dropped to the calendar hanging on the wall beside the mirror.
May 12, 2023.
Her breath caught.
Three days before the engagement gala.
Three days before her father signed the papers that would chain her to Alexander Wolfe. Three days before her life became a prison. Three days before she walked into the trap that would end with her falling from a balcony.
She pressed a hand to her mouth, her mind reeling. How?
But even as she asked the question, she already knew the answer. She had died. She was sure of it. She had felt the impact, had tasted the blood in her mouth. And then—
She had woken up here. Three years in the past.
Her hands began to shake. Not from fear. From fury.
She remembered everything. The forged documents. Camilla's betrayal. Her father's greed. The years of isolation in a cold, loveless marriage to a man who looked at her like she was furniture.
And the fall. Camilla's hands pushing her.
A knock on the door shattered her thoughts.
"Elena, darling?" Camilla's voice, sickeningly sweet, came through the wood. "Are you awake? You have a big day today—the dress fitting for the gala. You must be so excited."
Elena stared at the door, her reflection in the mirror staring back with eyes that no longer looked like a naive girl's. Those eyes had seen death. Those eyes had learned the truth.
She walked to the door and opened it.
Camilla stood there, dressed in an immaculate cream suit, her smile perfectly in place. She looked exactly as Elena remembered—beautiful, polished, and utterly false.
"Oh, you look pale," Camilla cooed, reaching out to touch Elena's cheek. "Did you not sleep well? Wedding jitters, I imagine."
Elena forced herself not to flinch away. She remembered now. This was how it had started last time. The smiles. The false concern. The slow, careful trap.
"I'm fine." Her voice came out calm. Controlled. "I just need a moment."
Camilla's eyes narrowed slightly—a flicker of something sharp and calculating—before her smile returned. "Of course, darling. But don't be too long. The designer is already waiting."
She turned and walked away, her heels clicking down the hallway.
Elena closed the door and leaned against it, her heart pounding.
She has no idea.
In her past life, she had walked into that dress fitting with a smile, trusting that her family wanted what was best for her. She had worn the white gown, stood beside Alexander Wolfe as he accepted her like a prize, and spent three years slowly suffocating in a gilded cage.
Not this time.
She moved to her desk, her mind already racing. She needed money. Documents. A way out. In her past life, she had tried to escape only after the marriage was sealed, when it was already too late. But now—she had three days. Three days before the gala. Three days before Alexander Wolfe signed the contract that would bind her to him.
If I disappear before the engagement, none of it happens.
She pulled open her desk drawer, searching for her passport. It was still there, tucked beneath a stack of old letters. She grabbed it, her pulse quickening.
But as she straightened, a flicker of movement outside the window caught her eye.
She moved to the glass and peered out.
A car was parked across the street. Black, tinted windows, no license plate visible. It hadn't been there yesterday. In her past life, she hadn't noticed it until much later—when she learned that Alexander's men had been watching her even before the engagement.
Her blood ran cold.
He's already here.
She watched the car for a long moment. The windows were too dark to see inside, but she knew. Alexander Wolfe was a man who left nothing to chance. If he had already marked her as his target, running wouldn't be easy.
But she would find a way. This time, she wasn't a naive girl. This time, she knew every move he would make before he made it.
She tucked the passport into her pocket and turned back to the room, her jaw set.
This time, I will be free.
The car remained outside, silent and watching.