Louise stood outside her own bedroom door, phone raised, hand steady.

From inside came the rhythmic creaking of the bed frame she had picked out three years ago at IKEA, accompanied by sounds that were definitely not someone assembling furniture.

She suppressed the urge to vomit. Instead, she focused on the camera framing. The lighting was decent, thanks to the hallway lamp. The audio was crystal clear.

And... Action.

She pushed the door open.

The scene before her was like a bad soap opera. David was on top, sweating like a pig at a roast, and Natalie was underneath him, her manicured nails digging into his back.

Louise didn't scream. She didn't cry. She simply kept recording.

"Smile for the camera, lovebirds," Louise deadpanned. "The resolution on this thing is fantastic. I can see every pore of betrayal."

"Fuck!" David yelled, scrambling off the bed so fast he nearly tripped over his own discarded boxers. He grabbed a pillow to cover his privates, looking like a frantic, naked toddler. "Louise! Baby! Wait-it's not what it looks like!"

Louise let out a short, sharp laugh. "David, you were literally inside my step-sister. Unless you tripped and fell, and she just happened to be naked to catch you, I think it is exactly what it looks like."

"Please, let me explain!" David pleaded, his face turning a blotchy red.

"There is nothing to explain," Louise said, ending the recording and hitting save. Cloud backup: On. "We're done. I have the evidence. I'm filing for divorce, and I'm sending this to your mother. Let's see if Ella thinks her son is 'cursed' now."

David's face went pale. "You can't do that. I'm up for a promotion! Mr. Finch will fire me if this gets out. He hates scandal!"

"You should have thought about your career trajectory before you decided to host a team-building exercise in our marital bed," Louise retorted. She turned her gaze to the bed, where Natalie was pulling the sheet up, managing to look both guilty and smug at the same time.

"Anything to add, Bestie?" Louise asked, her voice dripping with sugar-coated venom.

Natalie sniffled, summoning a few crocodile tears. "Louise... I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen. We just... we couldn't help it. It's love."

"Love?" Louise raised an eyebrow. "You call sneaking around behind a cancer patient's back 'love'? I call it being a trashy cliché, Nat. Honestly, I expected better from you. Actually, no. I didn't."

"It's not entirely our fault!" David interrupted, finding his courage now that he had his pants back on. "I'm a man, Louise! You've been sick for months. You're always tired, you're always at the hospital... I have needs!"

The room went silent.

Louise looked at the man she had vowed to love forever. The man she had given up her fated mate for.

"So it's my fault?" Louise asked quietly, the sarcasm slipping away to reveal the hurt beneath. "My cells are eating me alive, David. I am fighting for my life. And you think because I couldn't serve you, you were entitled to sleep with my sister?"

"I didn't say entitled..." David mumbled, looking at the floor.

"That is exactly what you meant," Louise snapped. "You are a weak, pathetic little man."

She turned to leave, grabbing the doorknob. She needed fresh air. She needed a lawyer. She needed to get away from the stench of their cheap perfume and cheaper excuses.

But David lunged.

He grabbed her arm, his grip bruising. "You can't leave, Louise. You can't post that video."

"Let go of me!" Louise shouted, trying to wrench her arm free. "I'm going to the police if you don't let me go!"

"I won't let you ruin me!" David growled, panic making his eyes wild. "You're my wife. You stay here and we fix this."

"Fix this?" Louise laughed incredulously. "There is no fixing this! I am divorcing you, and I am taking half of everything. Including the cat!"

Natalie sat up in bed, her eyes narrowing. "Wait... David? What do you mean 'fix this'? You said you were going to dump her anyway. You said she was a boring, barren burden."

David froze, caught between two angry women.

"Shut up, Natalie!" David snapped. "I just said that to get you into bed! Louise is my wife. She's... she's stable. She's good for my image. I'm not divorcing her for a fling like you."

The silence that followed was heavy.

Louise almost felt sorry for Natalie. Almost.

"Wow," Louise chuckled darkly. "Trouble in paradise already? Don't worry, Nat. You can have him. I'm generous like that."

Louise took advantage of David's distraction and shoved him hard. "Get out of my way!"

"No!" David shoved back.

It wasn't a calculated move. It was the desperate shove of a coward losing control.

But Louise was weak. Her body was frail from the chemo, her balance compromised. She stumbled backward. Her feet tangled in the rug.

She flailed, reaching for something, anything-but her hand only grasped empty air.

CRACK.

Her temple collided violently with the corner of the solid oak nightstand.

The world exploded in white light, then instantly faded to gray.

Louise collapsed to the floor, a doll with its strings cut. A warm, sticky sensation spread rapidly through her hair.

"Shit! Louise!" David screamed, dropping to his knees. "Louise, wake up! I didn't mean to!"

He fumbled for his phone, his hands shaking so hard he dropped it twice. "I have to call 911. She's bleeding. There's so much blood."

He was about to dial when a hand snatched the phone away.

"Give it back!" David shouted at Natalie. "She's dying!"

"Exactly," Natalie said. Her voice was icy calm.

David blinked, looking up at her. Natalie stood over them, naked wrapped in a sheet, holding the phone out of reach.

"What?" David breathed.

"Think, David," Natalie hissed. "If she wakes up, what happens? She saw everything. She has that video. She will divorce you. You'll lose your promotion. Mr. Finch will fire you. You'll be broke, disgraced, and paying alimony to a woman who hates your guts."

David looked down at Louise. Her eyes were half-open, glazed and unfocused. She was trying to speak, but only a gurgle came out.

"But... she's my wife," David whimpered.

"She's an anchor dragging you down," Natalie stepped closer, putting a hand on his shoulder. "But if she dies? It's a tragic accident. The poor, sick wife fell and hit her head. You're the grieving widower. You get the sympathy. And..."

Natalie smiled, a cruel curving of lips. "You get the life insurance. One million dollars, David. Plus the double indemnity for accidental death."

David's breathing hitched.

Divorce and ruin... or Death and millions.

Louise, lying on the floor, felt her consciousness flickering like a dying candle. She couldn't move her limbs. But she could hear. She could hear every word.

Call the ambulance, she begged silently. David, please. I was your wife. I loved you.

She looked up at him, trying to find the hero she had married seven years ago.

But David wasn't looking at her. He was looking at Natalie. He was looking at the phone.

"We... we can't just let her die," David whispered, but he didn't reach for the phone.

"We aren't killing her," Natalie soothed, stroking his hair. "We're just... letting nature take its course. She was sick anyway, David. She was in pain. This is a mercy."

"A mercy," David repeated, the word tasting like ash.

"Be a man, David," Natalie scoffed, her voice hardening. "I love your big cock, but sometimes you really lack the balls to do what's necessary. Do you want to be rich, or do you want to be ruined?"

David looked at Louise one last time. He saw the blood pooling around her head. He saw the betrayal in her dimming eyes.

He stood up.

He stepped back.

"I'm sorry, Louise," he whispered.

He turned his back on her.

Rage, cold and sharp, pierced through Louise's fading mind. He's leaving me to die. For money. For her.

Natalie crouched down next to Louise. She didn't check for a pulse. Instead, she placed her bare foot squarely over Louise's heart.

"Father always thought you were better than me," Natalie whispered, leaning in close so only the dying woman could hear. "Because you were the good sister. The smart one."

Louise tried to gasp, but her lungs felt heavy as stone.

"Sorry, Bestie," Natalie smirked. "But here's a little family secret to take to hell with you: Your mom was a bitch. She stole my dad first. I'm just balancing the scales. I stole your husband. I stole your life."

She pressed down with her foot, harder.

"Goodbye, Louise."

The last thing Louise saw was the victorious smirk on her killer's face.

I hate you, Louise thought, her soul screaming into the void. I hate you both. If there is a God... if there is a Moon Goddess... let me come back.

Let me burn you both to ash.

And then, the darkness swallowed her whole.

"Yes, you heard that correctly. Project Chronos is accomplished. This Christmas, Moonlit Tech is proud to present: The Time Button."

Andy Finch leaned back in his leather chair, spinning a pen between his fingers with the casual arrogance of a man who owned the skyline. He flashed a grin at the video screen-a grin that had closed billion-dollar deals and broken a few hearts along the way.

"It cost us two billion to convince a witch to sell us the proprietary spell work. Why a witch? Well, Mr. White, I know you hate the occult. I do too. Pointy hats, bubbling cauldrons, terrible fashion sense. But trust me, only those mystical ladies know how to rewind the cosmic clock. Finding one who wasn't already crispy from a medieval BBQ was a real treasure hunt."

Mr. White, the gruff CEO of White Enterprises, chuckled on the other end of the line. "You have a way with words, Finch."

"I try. Most of them didn't vacation well in the Middle Ages," Andy quipped, leaning forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "But with this little gizmo? One press. That's it. You hop back in time to fix a blunder. Delete a text message, unsay a stupid comment, or... well, you tell me. Got any regrets you'd like to erase?"

"I want to go back and stop my daughter from having that child with a total loser!" Mr. White bellowed, the audio crackling.

Andy winced, pulling the phone away from his ear. Family drama. Classic.

"Fantastic motivation!" Andy recovered instantly, his salesman mask never slipping. "So, if I said a cool million could fix that slip-up-stop your daughter from swooning over the gentleman in question-would you part with the cash?"

"Not just a million. I'd shell out ten," Mr. White snarled.

Ten million. You could hire a very expensive hitman for that price. But time travel was cleaner. Usually.

"Exactly!" Andy pointed the pen at the screen. "Now you're seeing the vision! We're going to clean up."

"Swell. Can we go back as far as we want?"

"Ah, the fine print," Andy waved a hand airily. "Not quite. The chronal-energy displaces exponentially. Seven years, tops. Our whiz kids are working on stretching it, but for now, seven is the magic number."

"Seven years..." Mr. White mused. "Have you tested this contraption yet?"

"It's set for beta testing the moment the board gives the nod. Don't worry, our legal eagles are ready for any-"

Knock. Knock.

Andy's spiel was cut short. He frowned. He had a strict 'unless the building is on fire, do not disturb' policy during pitches.

The door creaked open. It was Everlyn, his secretary. Usually, the woman was as poised as a statue, but today, her face was pale, her hands gripping a tablet like a lifeline.

Something was wrong.

But ditch Oliver White, the Lycan King of industry? Not a chance.

Andy muted the mic, mouthing, "Make it quick."

Everlyn didn't move. She just stared at him, her voice trembling. "Louise is dead."

The pen in Andy's hand stopped spinning.

"Come again?" Andy blinked, his charming smirk faltering for the first time. "Which Louise?"

He only knew one Louise. But his brain frantically offered alternatives. Louise from Accounting? Louise the barista? Louise, his second cousin twice removed?

"Mrs. Salinger," Everlyn clarified, bursting his bubble with the force of a sledgehammer. "David's wife. She worked here until recently. You... you remember her, right?"

Not remember her?

Fat chance. He was half-senile from caffeine and overwork, but he'd remember Louise Salinger even if he had a lobotomy.

Without a word, Andy reached out and tapped the red 'End Call' button.

Mr. Oliver White, mid-sentence about stock options, vanished into the digital void.

"That was Mr. White," Everlyn whispered, eyeing the black screen.

"I don't care if it was the Moon Goddess herself," Andy snapped, standing up. His legs felt weirdly numb. "What happened? You said she was sick. Sick people recover. They don't just... drop dead. She has a wolf for god's sake."

"It wasn't the cancer," Everlyn said, swallowing hard. "It was an accident. A few hours ago."

Andy gripped the edge of his mahogany desk, his knuckles turning white. "Explain."

"Somehow she slipped at home and hit her head on the nightstand." Everlyn looked down. "By the time the ambulance got there, she was gone."

A roar of pure, unadulterated rage erupted in Andy's chest, so hot it almost burned.

She couldn't just die like that!

He didn't say another word. He grabbed his car keys, hurdled a potted plant, and sprinted out of the office, leaving a stunned Everlyn and a ten-million-dollar contract in his wake.

Andy's hands trembled on the steering wheel like he was vibrating out of phase with reality.

Louise.

Louise with the thick glasses that constantly slid down her nose. Louise, who used to sit in the farthest corner of the university library reading "The Socio-Economic Impact of Pack Dynamics" while everyone else was partying.

The girl he had poured his soul out to in a love letter during freshman year-a letter that contained, admittedly, some very mediocre poetry involving the moon.

He remembered her response clearly. A note sent back not even by herself, "I won't accept an idiot. Leave me alone. Andy Finch."

He had taken it as a challenge.

For four years, he had stalked-coincidentally met-her at coffee shops. He convinced himself that her harsh words were just a defense mechanism. She was a Beta, he was an Alpha; she was shy, he was loud. It was a classic rom-com setup.

He remembered that Christmas party senior year. Natalie had spiked the punch. Louise, tipsy and adorable, had wandered off.

Andy had followed her, his Alpha instincts prickling. He found her cornered by three rogues near the dorms.

"What color are your panties, darling?" one of the rogues had sneered.

Louise, bless her intoxicated, logical heart, had blinked and slurred, "I... I haven't checked the label today. I forget."

The rogues had laughed, moving to grab her. "Take 'em off, we'll check for you."

Andy hadn't thought. He hadn't planned. He just broke the leader's nose and scared the other two off with a growl that shook the snow off the trees.

He carried her back to her dorm piggy-back style.

"Who are you?" she had mumbled into his neck, her breath smelling of peppermint schnapps.

"A concerned third party," he'd deflected, trying to play it cool.

"You're nice," she whispered, patting his cheek clumsily. "I'm gonna marry a hero like you someday. Not a jerk. A hero."

"I'll hold you to that," he had whispered back.

He had walked home on air. He planned to ask her out properly the next day. He was going to be her hero.

But he waited too long. He played it too cool.

Two days later, she was dating David Salinger. A safe, boring, unremarkable Beta.

Andy had been crushed. He became the "efficient hater." For ten years, he watched her from afar. When she joined his company, he mocked her to keep her at a distance, terrified that if he was nice, he'd fall in love all over again.

"Do you always fail to deliver on your promises, Mrs. Salinger?" he used to taunt her.

It was his twisted way of asking: What happened to marrying the hero?

A few months back, Louise handed in her resignation. Andy was knee-deep in a big-deal negotiation in Los Angeles, and by the time he strolled back into the office, her desk was a hauntingly empty space. He stared at it, feeling an emptiness echo in his chest. Trying to play it cool, he casually asked David where his wife had disappeared to.

David shrugged it off, mentioning something about a minor illness and the need for some rest-nothing to lose sleep over, apparently.

Andy couldn't help but wonder if he'd been too hard on her all those years. In a rare moment of sentimentality, he even splurged on a bouquet of her favorite purple tulips, planning a visit once she was back on her feet.

And now?

Now she is dead.

Andy screeched his Aston Martin to a halt outside the Salinger residence. Police lights painted the suburban street in chaotic flashes of red and blue. The policemen were chatting with David, who regretfully blamed himself for not taking good care of his wife. A coroner's van was already there.

He watched as they wheeled a body bag out of the front door.

It hit him then. The finality of it. There would be no more sarcastic banter. No more watching her push her glasses up her nose. No more purple tulips sitting in his office vase, waiting for her to return.

She was gone.

Andy slammed his hand against the steering wheel, the leather groaning under his grip.

If I could go back...

If he could go back ten years, to that night in the snow, he would have kissed her. He would have told her, "I'm Andy Finch. I'm the hero. Choose me."

But the universe had a cruel sense of humor.

His gaze fell on the prototype sitting in the passenger seat. The silver box. The Time Button.

Seven years. That was the limit.

Seven years ago, Louise was already engaged with David. She was already lost to him.

Going back seven years wouldn't give him a clean slate. It would drop him right in the middle of the mess. He would have to be the villain. He would have to be the relationship wrecker. He wouldn't leave Louise to David this time. That man didn't deserve her.

Andy looked at the body bag one last time.

Then, a dark, reckless grin-the grin of a man with nothing left to lose-spread across his face.

"Seven years," he whispered to the empty car. "Challenge accepted."

He didn't care if he had to fight David, the Moon Goddess, or fate itself.

He picked up the silver box.

"Hold on, Louise," Andy murmured, his thumb hovering over the glowing red button. "Your idiot is coming to get you."

He pressed it.

Louise gasped, her lungs filling with air that tasted distinctly like... nothing.

Wait a minute.

Do dead people breathe?

"Aren't I supposed to be dead?" Louise murmured, patting her chest. "Or did the doctors actually save me? If they did, I hope they didn't cut my shirt. It was on sale, but still."

She tried to move her legs and realized she wasn't in a hospital bed. She was floating. In a void. A very sparkly, very beige void.

"The bad news is, yes, you are definitely dead," an elegant voice chimed in, sounding like wind chimes made of diamonds. "The good news is, death is less of a full stop and more of a semicolon. Grammatically speaking."

Louise whipped her head around-relieved to find she still had a head.

Standing beside her was a woman who made supermodels look like potato sacks. She wore a robe woven from actual moonlight, and her hair flowed upward, defying gravity like a majestic silver waterfall. Her eyes held the entire cosmos, swirling with nebulae and judgment.

"Who are you?" Louise squeaked. "The Grim Reaper? You've had a makeover."

The woman chuckled, a sound that vibrated in Louise's soul. "People call me the Moon Goddess. Though, honestly, the branding has suffered lately. Teenagers these days are more into vampires."

Louise's jaw dropped.

She had prayed to the Moon Goddess every full moon since she was a pup. She always assumed it was like writing letters to Santa-therapeutic, but ultimately futile.

"Hello, Moon... uh, Your Moon-ness," Louise stammered, doing an awkward little bow while floating horizontally. "I'm a big fan. Huge. I love what you've done with the tides."

The Moon Goddess smiled, reaching out to pinch Louise's cheek. "Oh, aren't you a delightful little thing. I do apologize for the abrupt exit from your life. I admit, my oversight." Her expression shifted to a gentle scolding. "But really, child? Why did you marry that waste of carbon instead of waiting for the Fated Mate I spent decades designing for you?"

Louise winced. "To be fair, he wasn't a waste of carbon when I met him. He was more like... a recycling bin of potential. I didn't know he was a jerk."

"I gave you intuition!" The Goddess threw her hands up. "That gut feeling? That was me screaming, 'Run, girl, run!'"

"I thought that was indigestion," Louise muttered. "So, who was I supposed to marry?"

"An absolute alpha specimen," the Goddess drawled, her eyes twinkling. "Handsome, wealthy, brilliant, a bit of a drama queen, but devoted to the bone."

For a split second, Andy Finch's face-smirking, arrogant, and infuriatingly handsome-popped into Louise's mind.

No, she told herself firmly. The Goddess said "devoted," not "professional bully."

"Is it Kevin from Accounting?" Louise asked hopefully.

The Goddess gave her a withering look. "Louise, aim higher. But I can't give you a name. GDPR rules. General Divine Privacy Regulations."

"But I'm dead!" Louise protested, pouting. "Don't I get a spoiler alert?"

"If you were staying dead, sure," the Moon Goddess said, checking her nails, which were painted with literal stardust. "But you, my dear, are being sent back. You're being rebooted."

"Rebooted?" Louise blinked. "Like a computer?"

"Like a Phoenix. But less fiery, more wolf-y."

Louise clapped her hands together. "Oh! Is this because of my prayers? Did I accumulate enough loyalty points?"

"Ah..." The Goddess looked awkward, shifting her weight. "Well, I wish I could take credit. But the truth is, the werewolf population has exploded. Billions of you. My inbox is a nightmare. I haven't checked my voicemails since the 90s."

"Oh," Louise deflated. "So, I'm a glitch?"

"No, you're a beneficiary," the Moon Goddess corrected. "You aren't being reborn because of me. You're being reborn because your Fated Mate-the one you ignored-just broke about fifty laws of physics to save you."

"He... what?"

"He activated a time-reversal device," the Goddess explained casually, as if discussing a microwave. "Cost him a fortune. And likely his sanity."

"Time-reversal?" Louise frowned. She remembered a meeting at Moonlit Tech years ago. Project Chronos. She thought it was a joke.

"So, this mystery man loves me enough to turn back time?" Louise whispered, touching her heart. "How did he even know I died?"

"He's been watching you," the Moon Goddess said softly. "Always watching. Always waiting. That's all I can say."

Louise felt a pang of guilt. Whoever this man was, she had broken his heart by marrying David, and yet he had moved heaven and earth to save her.

"Now, pay attention, adorable one," the Goddess snapped her fingers. "There are Rules. The Universe hates a paradox, so we have to be careful."

"I'm listening."

"Rule Number One: You are going back seven years. No more, no less."

Louise groaned. "Seven years? I was already with David! We were engaged! Can't you send me back ten years? I'd really like to not date him at all."

"Sorry. Seven years is the limit of the spell," the Goddess shrugged. "As for the man you hate... just dump him." A mischievous, slightly wicked glint flickered in her starry eyes. "Or... don't just dump him. Don't you want revenge?"

"Revenge?" Louise blinked. "I was thinking I'd just... break up with him via text. Or maybe post a really unflattering photo of him on Facebook."

The Moon Goddess laughed, a sound like thunder wrapped in velvet. "Oh, honey. You are too kind. Let me introduce you to Rule Number Two: The Conservation of Fate."

"That sounds like math," Louise warned. "I'm bad at math."

"It means Fate is a zero-sum game," the Goddess explained, leaning in close. "Misfortune has to go somewhere. The cancer? The bad luck? The premature death? That energy has been generated. If you don't want it to hit you again, someone else has to take the hit."

Louise's eyes widened. The realization dawned on her slowly, then all at once.

"So... if I want to be healthy," Louise whispered, "someone else has to be sick?"

"Exactly," the Moon Goddess smirked. "And I think you know two people who are very deserving of some bad karma. Perhaps a cheating husband and a backstabbing sister?"

A chill ran down Louise's spine-not of fear, but of excitement. She didn't just have a second chance. She had a weapon.

"I can transfer my bad luck to them?"

"Think of it as re-gifting," the Goddess winked. "But there is a catch. Rule Number Three: No one else will remember this future. Not David, not Natalie..."

"What about my Fated Mate?" Louise asked quickly. "The one who saved me?"

The Moon Goddess's face softened with pity. "Especially him. The spell consumes the memory of the caster. He won't know he saved you. He won't know he loves you. To him, you'll just be the girl who got away."

Louise felt a heavy weight in her chest. "That's not fair. He saved me, and he won't even know it?"

"That is the price of magic, dear."

"Then I'll make him know," Louise vowed, her small hands curling into fists. "I'll find him. I'll figure out who he is, and I'll make him fall in love with me again. And I will make David and Natalie pay for every tear I cried."

"That's the spirit," the Moon Goddess beamed, looking like a proud mother. "Go get 'em, wolf."

"Wait! How do I find him?" Louise yelled as the void started to spin.

"Look for the purple tulips!" The Goddess shouted, her voice fading as she became transparent. "And Louise? Try to have some fun this time!"

"Tulips? What tulips?"

But it was too late. The Goddess snapped her fingers.

The beige void dissolved instantly. The silence was replaced by the hum of computers, the ring of telephones, and the smell of cheap office coffee.

"Louise? Earth to Louise. Did you hear what I said?"

Louise blinked, her vision blurry. She wasn't floating anymore. She was sitting in a swivel chair.

She looked up.

Standing right in front of her, holding a stack of files, was David.

He looked younger. His skin was smoother, his stomach flatter, and he wore that fake, endearing smile she used to love.

But Louise didn't see a husband.

She saw the man who stood by and watched her bleed out. She saw the foot that didn't move to help her. She felt the phantom pain of her skull cracking against the nightstand.

"Babe?" David leaned in closer, reaching out to touch her shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Terror, cold and primal, seized Louise's heart.

"AAAAHHH!"

Louise screamed-a high-pitched, blood-curdling shriek that shattered the office calm.

She scrambled backward, kicking her feet. Her swivel chair spun wildly, launching her out of it.

"Don't touch me! Don't kill me!" she yelled, her brain not yet processing the time travel, only the threat.

"Louise?!" David recoiled, dropping the files. Papers scattered everywhere like snow.

Louise didn't wait. She scrambled to her feet, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. She had to run. She had to get away from the murderer.

She spun around and bolted toward the exit, eyes wide with panic, not looking where she was going.

She rounded the corner of the cubicle row at full speed and-

WHAM.

She slammed into a wall. A very hard, very warm wall that smelled of expensive sandalwood and pine.

"Oof!" a deep male voice grunted.

The impact was catastrophic. Louise bounced off the solid chest, her feet tangling with the stranger's long legs.

Gravity took over.

They went down in a heap of limbs and fabric.

THUD.

Louise landed hard on her back, the wind knocked out of her. A heavy weight landed on top of her, pinning her to the carpet.

For a moment, the entire office went silent. You could hear a pin drop. Or a career ending.

Louise groaned, opening her eyes.

Hovering inches above her face was a pair of piercing blue eyes. They were framed by thick lashes and set in a face that was annoyingly symmetrical.

It was Andy Finch.

Her boss. The Billionaire. The Alpha.

He was hovering over her in a push-up position, his arms bracing himself on either side of her head to avoid crushing her. His tie dangled, brushing against her nose.

He didn't look amused. He looked shocked, and perhaps a little bit intrigued.

"Mrs.Salinger," Andy drawled, his voice deep and vibrating through her chest where they were pressed together. "I know the employee handbook encourages close collaboration, but I believe this is considered... aggressive tackling."

Louise lay there, paralyzed, staring up at the man she had spent years avoiding, her legs tangled with his, her heart racing for an entirely different reason now.

She had just time-traveled, screamed at her husband-no, fiancé, and tackled the CEO to the floor.

"I..." Louise squeaked, her face turning the color of a ripe tomato. "I... nice tie?"