Of the five boys who'd been raised to marry me, Lance Riverford was the one who hated me the most. And yet, he was the one I loved the most.

Three times I was reborn, and three times I forced him to be my husband.

Each time ended the same way—he and his childhood sweetheart killed me.

When I opened my eyes for the fourth time and met that same look of loathing in his eyes, something inside me finally let go.

I turned away and chose his rival, Jace Elden, as my husband instead.

But at the wedding, Lance demanded with tears in his eyes, "Why did you choose someone else this time? Are you doing this just to spite me?"

That was when I realized… he'd been reborn too.

The fourth time I was reborn, it was the day I was to choose my husband.

The banquet hall was full of guests and laughter.

My father called me over with a smile.

"My precious daughter," he said, "have you decided who you'll choose as your future husband?"

Before I could answer, the guests began shouting Lance Riverford's name. Everyone knew I was infatuated with him. I'd declared countless times that I would never marry anyone but him.

There was no suspense to this ceremony. Everyone assumed I would choose Lance. After all, he had been my obsession for three lifetimes—and I'd been willing to die for him, again and again.

But all my unwavering love had brought me nothing but his betrayal and cruelty.

And when our eyes met once more—his filled with disgust—I felt an unexpected calm.

No one could have guessed what I would do next.

I glanced at the wooden panels laid out on the table, each etched with a name. Without hesitation, I picked up the one that bore the name of Lance's rival.

"I choose Jace Elden."

The room fell into chaos. Even my father looked at me in disbelief.

"Are you sure you want Jace as your husband?" he asked carefully.

Everyone knew Jace and I didn't get along. He was careless, cynical, and indifferent to family matters.

And the man I married would one day inherit the entire Mitchell family. Compared to the other four suitors—each accomplished and polished—Jace was far from ideal.

But what I wanted was simple—a heart that was real.

I nodded firmly. "Yes, Dad. I'm sure."

He studied me for a long moment, then smiled with indulgent affection. "No matter who you choose, I'll support you. Since you've chosen Jace, let's have the wedding in three days."

I agreed without hesitation.

When everything was settled, I went alone to the villa where the five of them lived to tell Jace the news myself.

But the moment I stepped inside, I saw Lance sitting on the sofa. His face was cold, the ashtray beside him overflowing with cigarette butts. It was as if he'd been waiting for me.

Even angry, he was devastatingly handsome—like a main character drawn straight out of a comic book.

But I didn't want to look at him anymore. Three lifetimes of tangled karma—it was time to let go.

I took a slow breath, walked past him, and headed upstairs.

"Stop!"

Lance's hand shot out, gripping my wrist, yanking me back down the stairs. His sharp eyes locked on mine. "Don't you think you owe me an explanation?"

If it were before, I might've mistaken it for jealousy. But not anymore.

I pulled my hand free, my voice cold. "Who I marry is my choice. You're just one of my five suitors. You don't have the right to ask."

His face froze.

After a long silence, he pressed a hand to my shoulder.

"Even though you'll never compare to Natasha," he said, "if you apologize to me now, I can still consider marrying you—for your father's sake."

So this was what my love had become—a bargaining chip in his arrogance.

"I'm talking to you! Answer me!"

His voice rose, desperate and sharp, but I only found it pathetic.

"I'm here for Jace," I said.

Before I could finish, his childhood sweetheart, Natasha Reddington, burst through the door.

"Lance, you promised to take me to the concert! Why didn't you come?"

Lance let go of me instantly and turned toward her. Even his back looked gentle.

"Natasha, I'm sorry. I got caught up with work. How about I buy you a bag to make it up to you?"

She shot me a smug look, her eyes glinting with challenge.

"Fine. But you'll have to stargaze with me tonight to make up for it."

"Alright, alright," he said with a smile. "Whatever you want."

In my past life, when I had a stomach infection, Lance would rather spend all night talking to Natasha on the phone than take me to the hospital.

Love or indifference—it was always that clear.

"I heard someone was looking for me. What's the matter—missed me already?"

When I came back to myself, Jace Elden was walking down the stairs, his usual lazy grin in place.

In the past, that look alone would've been enough to set me off. We would've argued, maybe even fought.

But this time, I simply nodded and said calmly, "I've chosen you to be my husband. Isn't it normal to miss you a little?"

The grin vanished from his face. His eyes widened, and all the careless charm drained away.

"Really? You gave up Lance—for me?" His voice dropped lower. "If I take you seriously, you won't have any room to back out."

I smiled and nodded firmly. "Three days from now, we'll have our wedding."

For a moment, he just stared at me. Then excitement flickered across his face, and his words tumbled out, slightly stammered.

"Alright. I—I'll start getting ready."

But from the side came a cold snort.

Lance stepped forward, looking down at me with that familiar condescension.

"If you think using another man to provoke me will get my attention," he said coolly, "then you're being childish."

I was about to respond when Natasha let out a sharp cry.

We turned toward her—she was clutching her ankle, eyes red.

"Lance, I twisted my foot. It hurts so much."

The coldness in Lance's expression melted instantly. Panic flickered across his features as he rushed over and swept her into his arms. "I'll take you to the hospital."

Jace, ever the cynic, scoffed. "Lance, can't you tell she's faking it?"

Lance's face darkened, his tone laced with venom. "I don't need advice from useless trash like you."

He turned toward the door, but before leaving, he looked back at me and said coldly, "Try pulling a stunt like this again, and I'll dump you one more time. You make me sick."

One more time.

Just like before—In every life, whenever I argued with him over Natasha, he'd threaten to leave me.

I stood frozen, watching his back disappear through the door.

Could it be… he'd been reborn too?

Three days later, Jace and I's wedding arrived right on schedule.

The hall was packed—guests chatting, music flowing, laughter spilling from every corner.

As I met Jace's gaze, steady and full of quiet affection, I made a silent vow to myself: in this life, I would never let him down.

"The time has come," the host announced. "Let us welcome the bride and groom to the stage."

The words echoed softly in my ears as I stood there, lost in thought.

Then Jace reached for my hand—his fingers trembling slightly—and together we walked toward the stage under the warmth of a hundred eyes.

When we reached the center, he dropped to one knee, looking up at me with tenderness so raw it nearly hurt.

"Alana Mitchell," he said, "will you marry me? Let me turn my love into a lifelong promise."

"Yes." I nodded.

Applause burst through the room.

For the first time in all my lives, I felt what it meant to be truly happy.

The ceremony moved on in perfect rhythm.

Just as Jace and I were about to exchange rings, the doors burst open.

Lance stormed in, breath ragged.

"Wait!" he cried.

I turned toward him. It had only been three days, but he looked ten years older.

"Alana," he said, "can you give me five minutes? I still have something I need to say to you."

Before I could respond, Jace stepped forward, blocking him.

"Lance, have you no shame?" he snapped. "When Alana loved you, you didn't care. Now that she's marrying me, you show up pretending to be heartbroken?"

They'd grown up together, but Jace had never liked him—especially not after seeing how cruelly Lance had treated me. His disgust now was written plain across his face.

My father's voice followed, cold and sharp. "Get out. Keep pestering my daughter, and I won't be polite."

He had tolerated Lance before, for my sake. But now that I was marrying Jace, that leniency was gone.

Lance ignored them both. He just stood there, eyes fixed on me, waiting. Maybe he still believed that if he lowered himself enough, I'd forgive him—just like I had, again and again, across three lifetimes.

But this time, he was wrong.

I looked at him and said clearly, "There's nothing left to say between us. It's over. The man I'm marrying is Jace."

I had given him three chances—three lives.

And each time, he had used that love to destroy me. Even to kill me.

This time, I only wanted peace. I only wanted Jace.

Something in my certainty seemed to break Lance. He lowered his head, shoulders trembling like a scolded child.

"Alana, please," he murmured. "Just five minutes. Please. Or three… even one. I just need to say something to you."

In all my lives, I had never seen him so small. But affection that comes too late is worthless.

"I'm marrying Jace," I said. "There's nothing left for us to discuss. Please leave."

Lance let out a low, bitter laugh, his eyes wild as he grabbed my shoulders. His voice cracked as he shouted, "Why did you choose someone else this time? Are you doing this just to spite me?"