CHAPTER TWO

*ALEXANDER*

She haunted me.

Three days after the gala, I still couldn't get her face out of my head. The way she'd looked at me like I was nothing. Like I was boring.

No one had ever looked at me like that.

"You're distracted," Victoria said, sliding into the chair across from my desk. She'd let herself into my office without knocking, as usual. "The Hong Kong deal needs your signature."

I signed without reading it. Victoria would have handled the details already. She always did.

"Who was the woman in red at the gala?" I asked.

Victoria's hand stilled on her tablet. "Which woman?"

"Red dress. Dark hair. Early twenties. She was at the bar."

"Why do you care?"

Good question. I didn't know the answer. "Just curious."

"Her name is Sophia Chen. Catherine Chen's daughter. Political family, old money, nothing special." Victoria's tone was dismissive. "Why?"

Because she'd walked away from me. Because her eyes had held something I couldn't name not attraction, not intimidation, but something colder. Recognition, maybe, though we'd never met.

"No reason," I lied.

That night, I dreamed about her for the first time.

She was thinner in the dream, sadder. Sitting alone in a hospital room, crying silently while machines beeped around her. I tried to reach her, but my hands passed through her like smoke. Then the scene shifted a dinner table, my grandmother's voice sharp and cutting, and the woman flinching at every word. The woman who looked like Sophia but broken.

I woke up drenched in sweat.

"What the hell," I muttered, checking my phone. Three in the morning.

I couldn't fall back asleep.

Over the next two weeks, I saw her everywhere. At a tech summit, chatting with investors about emerging artists. At a museum opening, standing in front of a painting with an intensity that made everyone else fade into background noise. At a restaurant where I'd taken a client, sitting alone with a sketchbook.

I had James, my assistant, look into her. He came back with a thin file.

"Sophia Chen, twenty years old. Runs a gallery under the name Sera Morningstar. Started eighteen months ago, already profitable. Art degree from NYU, graduated early. No social media presence worth mentioning. Lives alone in SoHo. Doesn't date publicly."

"Why the different name?"

James shrugged. "Artists do that sometimes. Separation between personal and professional."

I stared at her photo a candid shot from an art magazine. She was looking at something off-camera, and that same intensity was there. Like she could see through everything.

"Set up a meeting. Tell her Sterling Hotels is interested in commissioning pieces for our new Singapore property."

"Are we?"

"We are now."

The meeting was scheduled for the following Tuesday. I arrived early, unusual for me, and waited in the conference room feeling inexplicably nervous.

She walked in exactly on time, wearing all black, her hair pulled back severely. Professional. Untouchable.

"Mr. Sterling," she said, not offering her hand. "I have thirty minutes."

"I appreciate you making time." I gestured to a chair. She remained standing.

"Your assistant mentioned a commission. I don't typically work with hotels, but I'm listening."

I launched into the pitch I'd had James prepare contemporary pieces for the Singapore lobby, budget flexible, timeline negotiable. She listened without interrupting, her expression unreadable.

When I finished, she was quiet for a long moment.

"No."

I blinked. "I haven't mentioned the budget yet."

"I don't care about the budget. I'm not interested in the project." She picked up her bag. "Was there anything else?"

"Why not?"

"Because your hotels are soulless corporate spaces designed to impress rather than inspire. My work doesn't belong there."

The bluntness should have offended me. Instead, I laughed. "Tell me what you really think."

"I just did. Goodbye, Mr. Sterling."

"Wait." I stood quickly. "Have dinner with me."

"No."

"Why not?"

She finally met my eyes fully, and something in her gaze made my chest tighten. Old pain, maybe. Or anger.

"Because I know exactly who you are, and I'm not interested in anything you're offering."

She left before I could respond.

James poked his head in five minutes later. "How did it go?"

"She turned down the commission and a dinner invitation."

"Oh." James looked genuinely surprised. "That's... unexpected."

Unexpected. That was one word for it.

The dreams got worse. More vivid. More disturbing.

I saw her at a wedding our wedding, though I didn't understand how I knew that. She was smiling, but the smile was wrong. Empty. I saw my grandmother criticizing her dress, her hair, her family. Saw Victoria touching my arm possessively while Sophia watched. Saw Sophia alone in a massive house, staring at her phone like she was waiting for a call that would never come.

Then the hospital dream came back, but this time I heard the doctor's words. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Sterling. There was nothing we could do to save the pregnancy."

I woke up gasping, and the name came out instinctively: "Sophia."

Mrs. Sterling. The pregnancy. None of it made sense. I'd never been married. Never gotten anyone pregnant. Didn't even want kids.

But the grief in that dream felt real. The woman's tears felt real.

I called my doctor the next morning and asked about sleep studies. He recommended a psychiatrist instead when I mentioned the recurring dreams.

Dr. Matthews listened patiently while I described everything, then asked, "Do you know this woman in waking life?"

"Barely. We've met twice."

"And you're attracted to her?"

"I don't know." Honestly, I didn't. She was beautiful, but that wasn't it. The pull I felt was deeper. More unsettling.

"Dreams often process our anxieties and desires. Perhaps this woman represents something you feel you're missing in your life."

I left the session unconvinced.

That Friday, Victoria invited me to an art exhibition. "Networking opportunity," she said. "Some of my investors will be there."

I agreed, distracted.

The gallery was intimate, modern, with stark white walls showcasing bold contemporary pieces. I was reading the program when I saw the name: Sera Morningstar Gallery.

Sophia's gallery.

"You didn't tell me this was her space," I said to Victoria.

"Whose space?"

"Sophia Chen's."

Victoria's expression flickered something too quick to read. "Does it matter?"

Before I could answer, I saw her across the room talking to an elderly couple. She wore dark green tonight, her hair down in waves. Professional but softer.

Then she turned and saw me.

The smile dropped from her face immediately. She excused herself from the couple and walked straight toward me, but there was nothing welcoming in her approach.

"Leave," she said quietly when she reached us.

"I was invited," Victoria interjected.

"I don't care. Both of you. Out of my gallery."

People were starting to notice. Victoria looked scandalized. I felt something click into place a piece of a puzzle I didn't know I was solving.

"You really hate me," I said, more statement than question. "But we've never even had a conversation longer than five minutes. So what did I do?"

Sophia's laugh was bitter. "You haven't done it yet. And you never will."

"What does that mean?"

She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper meant only for me.

"It means I know how this story ends, Alexander Sterling. And this time, I'm writing a different one."

CHAPTER THREE

*SOPHIA*

I shouldn't have said that. The moment the words left my mouth, I knew I'd made a mistake.

Alexander's face went pale. "What do you mean, 'haven't done it yet'?"

"Nothing. Forget it." I turned away, but his hand caught my wrist. Not hard, but firm enough to stop me.

"Sophia."

The way he said my name made my stomach twist. Soft. Concerned. Like he actually gave a damn. In my previous life, he'd never said my name like that. It had always been perfunctory, distracted, or worse absent entirely.

I yanked my hand free. "Don't touch me."

Victoria stepped between us, her smile sharp. "Darling, I think we should go. Clearly, we're not welcome here."

"I'm not talking to you," Alexander said without looking at her. His eyes stayed locked on mine. "Sophia, please. I don't understand what's happening, but"

"You're having dreams, aren't you?" The words came out before I could stop them.

His whole body went rigid. "How do you know that?"

Because I was having them too. Because the timeline was bleeding and I didn't know how to stop it. Because somehow, impossibly, he was remembering things that hadn't happened yet.

"Lucky guess," I said flatly. "Now get out."

I walked away before he could respond, before I could see whatever expression was on his face. My hands were shaking.

Marcus found me in my office ten minutes later. "What the hell was that about?"

"Alexander Sterling is what that was about."

"Yeah, I got that part." He closed the door and leaned against it. "You want to tell me why you're treating him like he murdered your dog?"

"He did worse."

Marcus waited. He'd always been good at that letting silence do the work.

I sat down heavily. "You asked me three days after my birthday if you'd believe me if I said I'd done all this before."

"I remember."

"I died, Marcus. Ten years from now. I married Alexander Sterling, and it destroyed me, and I died running away from him." The words tumbled out faster now. "I woke up on my eighteenth birthday with all of it in my head. Every moment. Every betrayal. And now he's having dreams about it, which means I'm not crazy, which means"

"Okay, stop." Marcus held up his hands. "You're saying you time-traveled?"

"I'm saying I got a second chance, and I'm not wasting it on him again."

My brother studied me for a long moment. "The art thing. The gallery. The way you knew exactly which pieces to buy. You've been using future knowledge."

"Yes."

"And Alexander Sterling is going to do something that makes you hate him this much?"

"He already did it. Just not in this timeline."

Marcus ran his hand through his hair. "This is insane."

"I know."

"But you're not crazy. I've watched you for two years. You've changed, Sophia. You've always been three steps ahead of everyone, like you're reading from a script only you can see." He paused. "I believe you."

I felt tears prick my eyes. "Really?"

"Really. Which means we need a plan, because if Sterling is starting to remember too, this gets complicated."

He was right. I'd assumed I was the only one carrying memories forward. But Alexander's dreams meant the timeline was unstable. And if he was remembering, who else might be?

My phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number: "We need to talk. I'm not leaving until we do. - AS"

I looked out my office window. Alexander's car was parked across the street.

"He's waiting outside," I told Marcus.

"Want me to call the cops?"

"No. I need to handle this." I grabbed my coat. "But stay close. If I'm not back in twenty minutes, come looking."

Alexander was leaning against his car when I stepped outside. Victoria was nowhere to be seen.

"Where's your shadow?" I asked.

"I sent her home. This conversation is private."

"There is no conversation."

"You knew about my dreams. You said I haven't done something yet. You told me you know how this story ends." He pushed off the car, taking a step closer. "Either you're psychic or something impossible is happening. And I don't believe in psychics."

"Believe what you want."

"I dream about you crying in a hospital. About losing a baby. About my grandmother tearing you apart at family dinners. About you driving off a cliff in the rain." His voice cracked slightly. "About you dying. And I wake up feeling like I failed you, even though we've barely spoken. So tell me I'm crazy. Tell me these are just stress dreams. Please."

The raw pain in his voice hit me harder than I expected. This Alexander the one who didn't know what he'd done yet was showing more emotion than the man I'd married ever had.

"They're memories," I said quietly. "You just don't know it yet."

"That's impossible."

"So is dreaming about someone's death before it happens."

He stared at me. "You died?"

"In another timeline. Another life. And you were there. Not physically, but you were the reason I was on that road, in that storm, with divorce papers in my hand."

"We were married?"

"For three miserable years."

Alexander took a step back like I'd slapped him. "I don't understand."

"You married me for my family's political connections. Kept Victoria around as your emotional crutch. Let your grandmother destroy my confidence piece by piece. Ignored me when I lost our baby. And when I finally couldn't take it anymore, when I tried to leave I died."

"No." He shook his head. "No, I wouldn't do that. I wouldn't"

"You did. You were cold and distant and cruel in ways you didn't even realize because I wasn't a person to you. I was an asset." I felt the old anger rising, hot and bitter. "So yes, Alexander. You haven't done it yet. But you will if I let you close enough. And I won't make that mistake again."

"I would never hurt you like that."

"You already have."

We stood there in the cooling night air, the truth hanging between us like a physical thing.

Finally, Alexander spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "If this is real if I really did those things then let me fix it. Let me be different."

"You can't fix something that hasn't broken yet."

"Then let me prove I never will."

I laughed, sharp and bitter. "You want redemption for sins you haven't committed? That's not how this works."

"Then how does it work, Sophia? You get revenge on me for a future that doesn't exist anymore? You hate me forever for things I might never do?"

"Yes," I said simply. "Because I can't risk being wrong about you twice."

His jaw tightened. "What if I'm having these dreams for a reason? What if this is the universe giving us both a second chance?"

"The universe didn't give me a second chance so I could fall for you again. It gave me one so I could save myself from you."

Alexander's phone rang. He ignored it.

"I'm not giving up," he said.

"You should."

"I've watched you for months. I've seen the way you command a room. The way you look at art like it matters more than money. The way you don't need anyone's approval, especially mine." He took another step closer. "The woman I see now is nothing like the broken person in my dreams. Which means you already saved yourself. So what are you really afraid of?"

That he might be right. That I might still feel something. That history might repeat itself no matter how hard I fought.

His phone rang again. This time he answered.

"What?" His tone was sharp. Then his face changed. "When? I'll be right there."

He hung up, already moving toward his car.

"What happened?" I asked despite myself.

"My grandmother. She collapsed. They're taking her to Presbyterian."

Eleanor Sterling. The woman who'd made my first life hell. Part of me wanted to feel satisfaction. Instead, I felt nothing.

Alexander paused with his hand on the car door. "Come with me."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because in your timeline, you married into this family. Which means you know things about them I don't. And right now, I need" He stopped, looking vulnerable in a way I'd never seen. "I need someone who won't lie to me about what's coming."

Every instinct screamed at me to walk away. But the look in his eyes reminded me of something I'd forgotten: before everything fell apart, before the cruelty and neglect, there had been moments when I'd thought I saw something real in him.

I'd been wrong then.

But maybe, in this timeline, I could use his desperation.

"Fine," I said, opening the passenger door. "But I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing it because I want to watch Eleanor Sterling face her karma."

Alexander's expression was unreadable as he started the car.

"Fair enough. But Sophia? Whatever happened between us in that other timeline I'm going to prove it doesn't have to happen again."

I didn't answer. Because the truth was, I was starting to worry he might actually try.

And even worse I was starting to wonder if I wanted him to succeed.

CHAPTER FOUR

*ALEXANDER*

Eleanor Sterling didn't collapse. She fainted during a charity board meeting, and by the time we arrived at the hospital, she was already awake and furious about the fuss.

"This is ridiculous," she snapped when I entered her private room. "I don't need to be here."

Then she saw Sophia behind me, and her face went white.

"You," Eleanor whispered.

Sophia's expression didn't change. "Mrs. Sterling."

"How do you know each other?" I asked, looking between them.

"We don't," Sophia said smoothly. But Eleanor was staring at her like she'd seen a ghost.

"That's not possible," my grandmother said. "You're supposed to be" She stopped abruptly.

"Dead?" Sophia finished. "I was. Got better."

The heart monitor started beeping faster. A nurse rushed in, giving us a sharp look.

"Everyone out. Mrs. Sterling needs rest."

In the hallway, I grabbed Sophia's arm. "What the hell was that?"

"Your grandmother recognizes me from the other timeline."

"That's impossible."

"So is everything else that's happening." Sophia pulled free. "She remembers. Which means she knows what she did to me. What she made you do."

"I make my own choices."

"Not when it came to her. You never stood up to Eleanor. Not once." The bitterness in her voice was sharp. "When she told you I was beneath your family, you believed her. When she said I was trying to trap you with the pregnancy, you doubted me. When she"

"Stop." I felt sick. "I need to talk to her."

"She won't tell you the truth."

"Then I'll make her."

I went back into the room. The nurse tried to protest, but one look at my face made her leave.

Eleanor's eyes were closed, but I knew she was awake.

"What did you do to Sophia?" I asked quietly.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You recognized her. You said 'you're supposed to be dead.' So tell me what happened in the timeline we don't remember."

Her eyes opened, hard and cold. "If you're having dreams, Alexander, see a therapist."

"They're not dreams. They're memories." I sat down beside her bed. "I remember pieces. Sophia in a hospital. You saying terrible things at dinner. Her face when she realized I chose you over her." My hands clenched. "What did I do to her?"

"You married her. You did your duty." Eleanor's voice was matter-of-fact. "She was weak. Unsuitable. I simply helped you see that."

"Helped me see it, or made sure of it?"

"Does it matter? She's alive now. You haven't married her. The timeline corrected itself."

"Or she corrected it." I leaned forward. "Why do you remember? Why do I remember? Why is this happening?"

Eleanor's hand trembled slightly. "Some mistakes echo across time. Some debts must be paid."

"What did you do?"

She looked away. "Get out, Alexander."

"Not until you tell me."

"I said get out!"

The heart monitor spiked again. The nurse rushed back in with a doctor this time, and they physically removed me from the room.

Sophia was leaning against the wall, arms crossed. "Did she confess to being a monster?"

"She admitted she manipulated me. Made me think you were beneath our family."

"And you believed her."

"Apparently, I did." I ran my hand through my hair. "I need to know everything. Everything that happened in that timeline."

"Why? So you can apologize for things you haven't done?"

"So I can understand who I was. Who I might become if I'm not careful."

Sophia studied me for a long moment. "You really want to know?"

"Yes."

"Fine. But not here." She started walking toward the exit. "Come on."

We ended up at an all-night diner in Brooklyn. The kind of place Eleanor would have been horrified to see me in. Sophia ordered coffee and pie. I ordered nothing.

"Talk," I said.

She took a bite of pie first, making me wait. Then she started.

"We met at that charity gala. You were charming. Attentive. Everything a girl raised on fairy tales could want. You pursued me for three months before asking me out. Proposed after six months. We were married before I turned twenty-three."

"Fast."

"You said you knew what you wanted." Her laugh was hollow. "Turns out what you wanted was my mother's political connections and a wife who knew her place."

"And Victoria?"

"Was always there. Your business partner, your confidante, your everything I wasn't allowed to be. You said it was platonic. Maybe it was. But you gave her the emotional intimacy you never gave me."

I felt something twist in my chest. "The pregnancy?"

Sophia's hand tightened on her fork. "I got pregnant six months into the marriage. You were... pleased isn't the right word. Satisfied, maybe. Like I'd fulfilled a contract requirement. But when I miscarried at twelve weeks, you were in a board meeting. Your assistant called to tell you. You didn't leave."

"Jesus Christ."

"Eleanor told me it was probably for the best. Said I was too young, too fragile, too everything wrong. You came home that night and asked if I was okay. I said yes because I didn't know how to say no to you. You believed me and went back to work." She met my eyes. "You wanted to believe me. It was easier."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize for something you didn't do. It makes you feel better but changes nothing."

"Then what do you want from me?"

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing."

A text came through on my phone. Victoria: "Where are you? Eleanor is asking for you."

I silenced it.

"You should go," Sophia said. "Your family needs you."

"They can wait. I'm not done hearing this."

"Yes, you are. I'm not your therapist, Alexander. I'm not here to absolve you or help you become a better person. I told you what happened. Now leave me alone."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

Because sitting here, listening to her describe the worst version of myself, I felt more present than I had in months. Because the broken woman in my dreams was nothing like the fierce one in front of me, and I needed to understand how she'd survived.

"Because I think I'm supposed to save you," I said.

Sophia laughed, sharp and bitter. "I already saved myself. From you."

"Then let me prove you won't need to again."

"How? By following me around? By having dreams? By feeling guilty?" She leaned forward. "You can't prove a negative, Alexander. You can't prove you won't become the man who destroyed me. And I'm not interested in waiting around to find out."

"What if I cut ties with Eleanor? With Victoria? With everyone you said influenced me?"

"What if you do and you still become him anyway? What if it's not them what if it's just who you are?"

The words hit like a physical blow. "You really think I'm fundamentally broken?"

"I think you're a billionaire who's never been told no. Who's never had to choose between what you want and what's easy. Who's never" She stopped, eyes widening.

"What?"

"Your father. Where is he?"

"Business trip. Singapore. Why?"

"In my timeline, he was at the hospital when Eleanor collapsed. Rushed back from a meeting." Sophia's face went pale. "Alexander, what meeting was he in?"

"Contract negotiations with the Zhao Group. High-stakes hotel development deal."

"The Zhao Group is a front. They launder money for triads. Your father is walking into a trap."

"How do you know that?"

"Because in my timeline, he walked into that trap. They extorted Sterling Hotels for three years before he finally confessed. It destroyed him. Nearly destroyed the company." She grabbed my phone. "Call him. Now."

I dialed. It went to voicemail.

"Call your assistant. Get your father's security team on the line. Get him out of that meeting."

"Sophia, this is insane"

"Do you trust me or not?"

I looked at her. At the certainty in her eyes. At the fear underneath it.

I called James. "I need you to pull my father out of the Zhao Group meeting. I don't care what excuse you use. Do it now."

"Sir, that deal is worth fifty million"

"I don't care. Get him out."

I hung up. Sophia was already standing, throwing money on the table.

"Where are you going?"

"If your father is in actual danger, we need to move fast. The people he's meeting with don't like being refused." She headed for the door. "Come on."

"How do you know all this?"

She looked back at me, and for the first time, I saw real fear in her expression.

"Because in my timeline, they didn't just extort your father, Alexander. When he tried to back out of the deal, they sent a message. They killed someone close to the family to prove they were serious."

My blood ran cold. "Who?"

"His son's fiancée. They made it look like an accident." Sophia's voice was barely a whisper. "They killed me."