Chapter 2: Rebirth and Recognition
1350words
No. It couldn't be.
My trembling fingers reached for the smartphone on my nightstand. The date glared back at me: May 15th, 2018. One month before my engagement party to Dominic Blackwood.
Five years before my death.
I checked my inbox. Texts from Dominic about floral arrangements. Group chat with my bridal planner. Even an unread note from Vivienne—
"Elara, don't forget to smile for the dinner later."
My legs gave out and I collapsed onto the edge of the bed. My pulse thundered. I was back. One month before the engagement party. Five years before I lost everything.
"This can't be real," I murmured, but the cold weight of the phone in my hand said otherwise.
The antique vanity mirror across the room reflected a stranger—no, not a stranger. Me. Elara Winters. But not the hollow-cheeked ghost I'd become. This was me from before—skin glowing, chestnut hair thick and lustrous, eyes bright with life rather than dimmed by despair.
A hysterical laugh bubbled up my throat, transforming into a strangled sob. I pressed my fist against my mouth, biting down on my knuckles until I tasted copper. The pain—sharp, immediate—confirmed this wasn't some elaborate hallucination conjured by my dying brain.
I had returned. Somehow, impossibly, I had been given another chance.
The bedroom door swung open without warning. Vivienne sauntered in, wearing a silk robe that barely covered her thighs. My stepsister—the woman who had stolen my husband, my life, and ultimately caused my death—stood before me, alive and unaware of the hatred boiling beneath my skin.
"You're finally awake," she drawled, examining her manicured nails. "Dominic's downstairs. He's been waiting for almost an hour. And..." she paused dramatically, "Thorne Blackwood is coming for dinner tonight."
My breath caught in my throat. Thorne Blackwood—Dominic's uncle and the true power behind Blackwood Industries. A man whose mere name caused boardrooms to fall silent. In my previous life, I'd only encountered him a handful of times, always from a distance. He'd seemed perpetually displeased with his nephew, his steel-gray eyes cold whenever they landed on Dominic.
And the last face I'd thought of before death claimed me.
"Thorne?" I echoed, the name feeling strangely intimate on my lips.
Vivienne's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Since when do you call him that? It's always been 'Mr. Blackwood' to you. God, you're such a prude." She smirked. "Everyone's terrified of him except Dominic. He knows his uncle would never cut off the family heir."
How wrong she was. In my previous life, after my disgrace, I'd read about Thorne disinheriting Dominic, citing "moral failures unbecoming of the Blackwood name." The news had come too late to save me.
"Tell Dominic I'll be down shortly," I replied, surprised by how steady my voice sounded.
Vivienne lingered, studying me with narrowed eyes. "You look... different today."
I met her gaze, allowing myself to truly see her for the first time. In my previous life, I'd been blinded by sisterly affection, never noticing the calculation behind her smiles or the envy darkening her eyes whenever Dominic and I were together.
"Do I?" I smiled, a cold expression that made her step back instinctively. "Perhaps I've finally opened my eyes."
Confusion flickered across her face before she shrugged and left, the scent of her perfume—Dominic's favorite—lingering offensively in the air.
I dressed methodically, selecting a simple blue dress that emphasized my figure without appearing as though I'd made an effort. No more desperate attempts to keep Dominic's wandering attention. This time, I was merely an observer to their pathetic charade.
Descending the grand staircase, I heard them before I saw them—hushed voices and stifled giggles from the conservatory. I paused at the doorway, watching the scene unfold with detached curiosity.
Dominic had Vivienne pressed against the piano, his lips on her neck, her leg wrapped around his waist. The sunlight bathed them in an almost ethereal glow—beauty masking rot, like flowers blooming over a grave.
"Someone might see," Vivienne whispered, though she made no move to push him away.
"Let them," Dominic replied, his hands sliding beneath her blouse. "Elara's too besotted to notice anything. Besides, after the engagement, it won't matter. Uncle Thorne will have to approve the merger then."
The merger. Of course. My family's pharmaceutical company merging with Blackwood Industries—the real reason behind our relationship. How had I been so blind?
I cleared my throat, stepping into the room with deliberate heaviness. They sprang apart with comical haste, though not before I caught the flash of triumph in Vivienne's eyes. She wanted me to see. This wasn't carelessness—it was calculated cruelty.
"Elara!" Dominic straightened his tie, his expression shifting seamlessly from irritation to charm. "You look lovely this morning."
In my previous life, I would have ignored the scene, making excuses for them both while my heart shattered. I would have smiled through tears, desperate to preserve the illusion of love.
This time, I merely raised an eyebrow. "Don't stop on my account. It's quite the performance."
Shock registered on both their faces—this wasn't the script they expected me to follow.
"Darling, Vivienne was just—" Dominic began, reaching for my hand.
I sidestepped his touch as if avoiding contamination. "Spare me the explanation. I need to prepare for dinner with your uncle tonight."
Dominic's expression darkened at the mention of Thorne. "Uncle Thorne doesn't concern himself with personal matters. He's only interested in the merger."
"Is that so?" I replied, enjoying the confusion my new demeanor was causing. "Perhaps you should focus on making a better impression on him rather than my stepsister's anatomy."
Vivienne gasped, her porcelain complexion flushing crimson. "Elara! I don't know what you think you saw, but—"
"I saw exactly what you wanted me to see," I cut her off, my voice ice. "You've been flaunting your affair for weeks, growing increasingly bold when I failed to react. Did you expect tears? A confrontation? Perhaps you hoped I'd call off the engagement?"
Dominic stepped forward, his handsome face arranged in an expression of concern that once would have melted my resolve. "You're not yourself today. Perhaps you should rest—"
"I've never been more myself," I interrupted, moving toward the door. "And don't worry about the engagement. The merger is too valuable to both our families to jeopardize over something as trivial as fidelity. I wonder, though, what your uncle would think of your... extracurricular activities."
The color drained from Dominic's face. If there was one person he feared, it was Thorne Blackwood—the man who controlled the purse strings and whose moral compass was rumored to be as rigid as his business ethics.
"You wouldn't dare speak to him about this," Dominic hissed, all pretense of affection vanishing.
I smiled, a cold curve of lips that felt foreign yet satisfying. "I haven't decided what I'll do yet. That's what makes this so interesting, don't you think?"
As I turned to leave, Vivienne called after me, her voice tinged with desperation. "He doesn't love you! He never has!"
I paused at the doorway, glancing back at them—two beautiful, hollow people whose power over me had died along with my former self.
"Love?" I echoed, the word tasting like ash. "I stopped believing in that fairy tale when I opened my eyes to reality. Enjoy your little affair while you can. Tonight's dinner might change everything."
I left them standing there, confusion and fear radiating from them in palpable waves. As I climbed the stairs, I couldn't stop thinking about Thorne Blackwood. In my past life, he'd been distant, but not unkind. He'd cut Dominic out after the scandal. He had investigated the so-called affair that ruined me.
What if this time, he could be more than a silent observer? What if I offered him something he couldn't refuse—a way to secure the Winters merger without Dominic?
He was the only Blackwood who valued truth. And I had the truth—and the motivation—to make him an ally.
This time, I wouldn't be discarded. I would make myself indispensable.
