LILITH - Evening, 5: 30 PM.

Up at the presidential suite on the top floor of Aurora Palace-the most luxurious hotel in the country and a family-owned business-I had just finished enduring two full hours of grooming and makeup. And now, it was time to pick an evening gown.

However, the moment my eyes landed on the rows of pink dresses lined neatly before me, my expression darkened.

I had almost forgotten that the period I returned to was a chapter of my life I'd disliked deeply-a time when everything I wore, ate, and did was tightly controlled and dictated by my parents.

The reason for this should be traced to my older siblings.

When my fraternal twin siblings-Julian and Marissa-were born, our parents had been too preoccupied with their respective careers to raise them personally, so the twins were sent to live with our grandparents.

By the time our parents' careers finally stabilized and they had the time to care, the twins had sadly grown up and moved past the age of craving parental affection.

They remained respectful and polite, every bit the image of perfect children, but the emotional closeness to our parents was never quite there.

As a result, this matter became a regret that weighed heavily on their hearts.

So, when they had me, they were determined to do things differently.

And they did.

I was raised at their side, surrounded by love, luxury, and the best of everything from birth. I lacked nothing, except the one thing that mattered most: freedom.

I had grown up like a doll in a glass case.

Precious. Pampered. Sheltered.

I was never allowed to make even the smallest decisions on my own. My whole life was perfectly arranged-the color of my room, the clothes I wore, the school I attended, the major I studied, and even the man I ended up marrying.

My irreconcilable dislike for the color pink stemmed from the fact that it had been the dominant theme of my entire life.

The color of my bedroom decor, my clothes, my accessories, and even the first car they ever gifted me. A car I never got to drive myself, of course, because they were too concerned for my 'safety.'

In my past life, I had lived more than a decade away from them after getting married, but even then, I never asked or understood what the color meant to them, or why they insisted on using it so obsessively in every aspect of my life.

But to me, it represented suffocation.

It made me feel like a living doll, because pink was the only color that seemed to exist in my universe. I woke up to pink every morning and fell asleep to it every night.

And now, staring at those dresses again-each one a reminder of the unhappy memories I'd kept locked away-I felt a familiar, silent scream crawling up my throat.

I turned away sharply, my brows furrowed tightly. "Take these away. I won't wear any of it."

The sudden command made the stylist team exchange glances.

The lead stylist, Rosa, stepped forward with a faintly worried expression. "But your mother specifically instructed-"

I side-eyed her with a frosty look and cut her off.

"She might be the one paying the bills, but in this room, I'm your employer. You listen to me, understood?"

A brief silence followed, each team member looked visibly surprised.

And I knew exactly why.

To be fair, this wasn't the first time they'd worked on me. But over the years, they'd probably grown accustomed to my quiet and well-behaved demeanor. Like a pliant doll, I wore and did what I was told, never expressing an opinion of my own.

In both lives, this was my first time speaking out, and also going against my mom's instructions.

Rosa recovered first. She blinked, quickly masking her surprise, then lowered her head. "My apologies, Miss Caldwell."

I didn't respond. I didn't have the strength to.

As I turned to go back to my seat, my eyes suddenly caught sight of something. Swiveling, I walked past Rosa and stopped at the far end of the rack.

There, nestled between two pastel pink gowns, was what had drawn my attention-a midnight black evening dress.

"I'll wear this one," I said firmly, my fingers running over the smooth fabric.

From the corner of my eyes, I saw Rosa shot a look at the wardrobe assistant, realizing this was likely her mistake-accidentally slipping in a different color. But she soon recovered, likely realizing that this little mix-up had saved them a great deal of trouble.

As for the aftermath I might face from wearing black instead of pink? That was between us mother and daughter. Not something she should be concerned with.

So, she nodded and smiled, appropriately. "It'll look perfect on you."

The rest of the team followed suit, showering me with compliments. How elegant it was, how well it matched my skin tone, how sophisticated it made me look...

Of course, how sincere any of them were was up for debate.

But I didn't care. As long as I liked the dress, that was all that mattered.

Without another word, I took the gown and disappeared into the changing room.

When I walked out moments later, the eyes of everyone in the room visibly lit up and I read the same word from their faces.

Wow.

I was pleased with the reaction, but I didn't show it. Instead, I walked up to the full-length mirror and studied my reflection closely.

The black dress fit me like a glove, hugging my slender frame in all the right places. I looked elegant, poised, and untouchable.

Like a queen in the making.

The woman staring back at me made the first real smile since I arrived at the hotel slowly appear on my lips.

Much better.

Just then, the familiar ding of a notification sounded from my phone.

I had a feeling I knew who it was from.

Picking it up, my intuition proved correct. It was indeed a message from the private investigator I'd hired.

Clicking on the first image, the smile at the corner of my lips deepened.

With another swipe, I browsed through the remaining pictures and a file, then quickly sent the final payment.

{It's a pleasure working with you.}

The reply came just as quickly.

{I'm glad you're satisfied with our services. Let's work together again sometime.}

{Sure.}

With that, I went offline.

My eyes twinkled with excitement as I began thinking about how best to put my plans into motion.

I would make sure tonight was etched into everyone's memory for a long time to come.

LILITH

By the time I arrived in front of the ballroom, its heavy doors were already wide open. Guests in formal attire stood in groups, smiling demurely and clinking glasses as they conversed.

I paused at a blind spot, quietly scanning the room for familiar faces.

And then, I saw them.

Brandon and Claire.

They looked every bit the golden boy and girl, standing beside my parents with perfect smiles and flawless poise.

It was such a familiar sight that, for a brief second, it felt as though I'd returned to my past life.

But I quickly snapped out of it.

No.

This was my second chance at life. I was no longer who I used to be.

Besides...

I was curious to see whether, after tonight, those two could still stand there with those perfect smiles. Or even be welcomed in the circles they took so much pride in.

Thinking of this, a smile crept onto my face. I smoothed out my wrinkle-free dress with one hand and tightened my grip on the clutch in the other, before stepping into the ballroom without hesitation.

As I approached the center of the room, a soft hush fell over the crowd.

'Who's that?'

I caught someone whisper to the person beside them.

'She looks like the pink princess... but since when did she wear other colors?'

The smile on my lips nearly faltered.

'Pink princess.'

It had been a lifetime since I last heard that nickname. At least, after I married Brandon and changed my dressing style, no one had called me that again.

My loss of composure lasted only a second before I composed myself. I chose to take it as a reminder that I was truly back.

Besides, if I'd been able to make that nickname disappear once before, I could do it again. This time, even more seamlessly.

With that, I paid no mind to the whispers and walked straight toward my family.

My confident gait. My expression. Even my dress.

They made me look nearly unrecognizable to the people who once thought they knew me.

I could feel a particularly intense gaze on me as I walked forward, but didn't dwell much into it. There were many people around tonight, after all.

As I neared my family, I didn't miss the slight frown on my mom's face. No doubt irritated that I hadn't worn any of the dresses she'd picked out.

A further glance to the side revealed a flicker of jealousy in Claire's eyes.

I almost laughed. How had it taken me over three decades to notice that expression? And to believe that Claire had ever truly been my best friend? Had I been blind?

Then came Brandon.

His surprise was evident as he stepped forward, hands outstretched, a warm and familiar smile painted across his face.

"You look beautiful tonight, Lily."

To the former me, Brandon had been special.

Not because I loved him, but because he was my escape from my parents' control. He represented freedom. He was family.

But I couldn't deny that, somewhere along the line, I might have fallen in love with him. After all, he was the only man-aside from my father and my older brother, Julian-who was allowed near me. Moreover, he had been patient and doting.

But thinking about it now, that love had been small. Insignificant, in hindsight.

That's why, when I discovered his affair with Claire in my past life, the heartbreak and betrayal I felt was surprisingly mild, most of it directed at Claire. Someone I had once trusted as my closest friend.

When I recovered, I had asked for a divorce without a second thought.

Who could have known that choice would cost me everything?

Truthfully, I didn't even hate Brandon for the affair. What I truly hated him for was the baby switch, his refusal to let me go, and for colluding with Claire to slowly torture me to death with medications.

Because of him, I never got to properly hold the child I'd carried for eight agonizing months. Up till the moment I died, I didn't even know if it had been a boy or a girl.

What had become of my baby? Had it been abandoned? Left in an orphanage?

I didn't dare consider the worst possibilities.

Stillborn, they had said?

I'd be a fool to believe that lie, when my baby had been active and kicking even as I was wheeled into the delivery room.

Thinking of all this, I couldn't even bring myself to play along with him, and coldly sidestepped Brandon's outstretched hands.

"Dad," I greeted the well-maintained, handsome middle-aged man in front of me.

His face lit up with a warm, loving smile. "Wow, my daughter looks extra dazzling tonight."

Bittersweet emotion twisted in my chest.

Yes, my father had always been like this-showering me with compliments, sincere and unreserved. It didn't matter if I wore pink or black. In his eyes, I'd always be the prettiest girl in the room.

As for my mother...

I turned toward her and met the faint look of disapproval in her eyes.

"Mom," I greeted.

"Why didn't you wear the dress I chose for you?" she asked, voice cool.

"I didn't like it," I answered curtly.

The disapproval on her face deepened. Once upon a time, that look would've sent me scrambling to apologize or compromise.

But not anymore.

Ever the peacemaker, my dad quickly stepped in before my mom could say more.

"It doesn't really matter, right?" he said, flashing a smile. "Our daughter looks beautiful no matter what she wears."

With that, the situation was grudgingly averted.

Just then, Claire walked over and reached out to wrap her hand around my arm.

I swiftly sidestepped, avoiding her touch.

This was the major culprit who orchestrated my miserable end in my past life by stealing and draining my luck dry, among other things.

Even if May had explained that she did so through positive emotions, I wasn't about to take any chances.

No matter how harmless the action seemed, I'd never allow her to lay a finger on me again.

Claire blinked, momentarily stunned, before quickly covering it up with a wounded expression.

"Lily... did I do something wrong?"

"What's that supposed to mean, Lilith?" my mother snapped, quick to seize the opportunity to scold me. "Claire was just being friendly, and yet, you avoided her like the plague."

I paused, then chuckled.

Yes, it has always been like this.

To the outside world, I was the pampered youngest daughter of the Caldwells. But they didn't know that was only true as long as I remained obedient.

The moment I resisted or disagreed with any of their arrangements, they sided with anyone but me. As if to remind me I wasn't irreplaceable.

"What's so funny?" my mom asked, sounding both annoyed and confused.

I could practically read the questions from her face: why did her obedient daughter suddenly feel like a stranger?

Not wearing the dress she'd picked was one thing. But talking back? Laughing to her face?

What had happened to her?

I couldn't help but shake my head, then replied with an amused glint in my eyes, "Nothing really. I just remembered something funny."

She clearly didn't buy the explanation, but before she could press further, a group of our business associates approached.

I offered them a smile and polite greeting, then excused myself from the group. Predictably, Brandon and Claire followed after me.

"Do you want to go greet my parents together?" Brandon asked, gesturing subtly toward a familiar middle-aged couple across the room.

Even as they conversed with another group, their eyes continued to stray in this direction. It was clear that they were waiting.

Waiting for me-their prospective daughter-in-law-to come over and pay my respects.

I knew this because I'd already lived through it once before.

"Greet them?"

I arched a brow.

Were they worth it?