'' Chapter 2: Who Are You? ''

"I can't believe she slit her wrist to avoid marrying Richard Swift!" a voice exclaimed, dripping with disbelief.

Diana found herself in a strange room with blue and white walls. Rays of sunlight stole in through the colorful curtains. Her blue eyes scanned the environment, landing on a makeup compartment by the vanity mirror, which had makeup from several brands lined up.

Strange faces surrounded her. Diana blinked, trying to process everything. The last memory she had was of dying that night.

How was she alive? Didn't she die yesterday at the hands of her boyfriend and that woman?

Why was she here?

In an unfamiliar room with strange faces?

Taking a breath, Diana put on her composure face mask. Perhaps they had kidnapped her and were forcing her into something she didn't want.

In a wedding dress?

Yes.

She was in a wedding dress that had a plunging neckline, revealing her ample chest. What was strange was that the person in the mirror was also a stranger.

Nothing made sense.

"Can you believe it? Brielle has always been selfish," remarked an older woman, her voice laced with disdain as she crossed her arms.

"Yeah, I know!" replied a younger version of her, her nose flaring with indignation. She shared the same features as the older woman. It was Natalie Smith, the real daughter of Sylvia Smith.

Why was she here?

Suddenly, a flurry of memories hit her like a tidal wave. Diana fell from the chair to the floor, overwhelmed by the new recollections.

It hit her.

Something she had only read in books and thought was nonsense: she had been reborn into a different body.

Blood rushed to Diana's head when she saw the person through the mirror's reflection. It was Natalie Smith-the very person responsible for sufferings of the original owner with her numerous schemes.

Brielle Smith, the adopted daughter of the Smith family, who had been treated like a slave since birth, was now being sent to marry an old, comatose wealthy man in New York to repay the Smiths' debts.

She was the substitute for her sister, Natalie, who happened to be the favored one.

As the memories slowly merged with hers, Diana felt a surge of anger at the previous owner of the body. Brielle had been so weak, allowing everyone to bully her. She suffered from social anxiety and spent her whole life pleasing the Smiths.

Unfortunately, nothing she did mattered. When they asked her to marry Richard Swift-who was on his deathbed-Brielle had been expected to be his nurse and servant until he died. Unable to face this prison of a marriage, Brielle had cut her wrist to escape.

This was so wrong.

At that moment, Diana felt a hand grabbing her arm, and disgust washed over her. She loathed being touched.

In a swift motion, she pulled the perpetrator's arm and twisted it behind her back. Natalie screamed, her voice piercing the air and threatening to break the glass windows.

"Don't you ever touch me!" Diana warned, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

Natalie was stunned, her eyes wide as she nursed her hurt wrist, blowing air on it in a futile attempt to ease the pain.

Unable to see her daughter hurt, Sylvia Smith, Diana's foster mother, rushed in between them, pulling Natalie to her side. She raised her hand to hit Diana.

"Don't touch me if you want to keep your fingers," Diana seethed, catching Sylvia's hand mid-air. She let go and sprayed a can of sanitizer afterward, her clean-freak nature on full display.

A collective gasp echoed in the room.

The aura she emitted was cold and domineering, making Sylvia take two steps back.

"Mom, are you okay?" Natalie asked, her voice filled with concern as she clutched her mother's arm.

"I can't believe I lived to see the day this ingrate I brought in on a rainy day would speak back to me," Sylvia lamented, her expression distraught.

"I can't believe Diana did something like this," one of the bridesmaids said, her tone filled with disbelief.

"No wonder there is a saying that we should take care of our own before helping others. The adopted daughter dares to do this?" another chimed in, shaking her head.

With one look, Diana could tell they were Natalie's best friends, Ronny and Sandy, chosen by Natalie to act as bridesmaids for Brielle's wedding.

"Hmm."

"Diana, why are you so rough and heartless? You hit our mother?" Natalie accused, her voice shaky and defensive.

"Ours?" Diana scoffed, her eyes colder than winter. "When has she ever been a mother to me? If all mothers are hypocrites, I'm glad mine died."

"You!!" Sylvia's eyes flew open at Diana's words, barely able to contain her fury.

"Mom, calm down. Your blood pressure might increase over something this silly," Natalie soothed, her voice softening as she tried to defuse the situation.

At this point, Diana took a step forward, her cold gaze examining Sylvia. She seized Sylvia's wrist, placing her index and middle fingers on the radial artery.

"What are you-" Sylvia started, confusion etched on her face.

Diana silenced her by raising a hand. After counting for a minute, she sighed. "You don't have high blood pressure. Why do you lie?"

In an instant, Sylvia's face lost color. She had been using that as an excuse to emotionally blackmail the original owner. Brielle had been foolish enough to fall for it every time.

What had happened to her daughter?

"Who are you?" Sylvia found herself asking the stranger who seemed to have replaced her daughter. Brielle had social anxiety and wouldn't dare act so shamelessly.

"I am your daughter, and I am here to return all the kindness you showed me." A wry smile curled on Diana's lips, enhancing her striking appearance. She glanced at the time-it was already past ten in the morning.

It was time to get on with her revenge against those who had wronged her. She gazed at Natalie, rage rippling over her face.

Like a frightened child, Natalie ran and hid behind her mother. "Why do you look like you want to kill me?" she whimpered.

"Is it that obvious?" Diana deadpanned, her voice icy and laced with contempt. For what they did to the original owner in the past, Diana felt like killing all of them.

However, it was not worth it. She had a lot on her plate first before she could seek hard, cold revenge.

Natalie swallowed hard, and Sylvia's eyes flickered with worry. "Mom, don't worry. We'll get rid of her the second she marries Richard," Natalie whispered, trying to calm her mother's nerves.

"What did you say?" Diana barked, yanking the veil from her hair and the bottom of her dress.

"What are you doing? Do you know how much that dress cost?" Sylvia exclaimed, her voice rising in panic. They were in awe at the sight of Diana ruining the dress, a dress that cost hundreds of thousands for rent.

At least, she wanted to give Brielle a good expensive wedding so she wouldn't complain later. Once the old man died, Brielle would get the inheritance, and they would be set for life.

Now, Brielle only had to be complacent.

"Do I look like I care, Mother?" Diana taunted, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her new body had olive skin, a small nose, and heart-shaped lips.

'Brielle, you're pretty, but why so much makeup?' Diana thought in disgust. Her face felt stiff, like someone who had had Botox. The makeup felt like a mask on her skin. She immediately grabbed a wipe and cleared the mess off her face.

"What are you doing?" Sylvia questioned from the safety of the back, her tone a mixture of fear and disbelief.

"If you haven't gotten the memo, Mother, I am not getting married to that old man," Diana said, putting extra emphasis on the word "mother."

In fact, Sylvia could not back down so easily. She drew a deep breath before accusing, "You have to; you owe me. I took care of you for years."

In truth, they had adopted Brielle when she was left in the rain in front of their house. George Smith had taken her in; unfortunately, he died when she was a teenager. Hence, Sylvia saw Brielle only as a burden and mistreated her.

Applying lipstick and a little blush, Diana was pleased with the results. She looked gorgeous, even with less makeup. The original owner had no fashion sense at all. Now, she was here to amend it.

Grabbing the phone from the table, she smiled, her expression defiant. "Make me."

Chapter 3; Why not steal my last name next?"

"Make me," Brielle said defiantly, her eyes cold as ever.

"You have to marry Richard to pay our debts! You promised!" Sylvia insisted, her voice rising with urgency. This was the only way they could relay the debt to the Smiths. If not, they would have to mortgage their house and company. It still wouldn't be enough.

They were doomed!

Brielle stared at her, stunned by the woman's audacity. She went on, fearlessly, "Huh? You promised Sir George you would take care of Brielle-me. Did you keep that promise? So why would I keep mine?"

Sylvia's heart raced upon hearing this.

How did she know about the promise?

It was a secret she had kept hidden even from her own daughter. Unbeknownst to her, Brielle had been in George's bathroom, cleaning up his mess when she overheard their conversation.

Shaking her head, Sylvia replied, her tone sincere, "I didn't keep any such promise."

"Dare to deny it?" Brielle sneered, examining the middle-aged woman with a bored expression. She thought, feeling her heart prick, if her mother had been alive, she would have been at least the same age. It was a shame.

"I'm leaving," Brielle announced, turning to the door. There was no need to be in this room filled with hypocrites.

"Get her!" Sylvia yelled at her daughter across the room. The three other girls who had been present rushed back in at the sound of Sylvia's command.

They quickly formed a barrier at the door to stop Brielle from leaving. Brielle shook her head at their futile efforts.

This was pointless.

"You guys should make things easier by letting me leave," she warned, her tone icy.

Spreading her arms, Natalie jumped in front of Brielle to block her path. "No. You have to marry Richard."

Frustration bubbled within Brielle. She was tired of this family drama. Crossing her arms over her chest, she asked, "Why? Why should I sacrifice myself for a debt I had no part in? Natalie, it was your mother's debt-why not you marry Richard?"

It made no sense why she should pay. Sylvia was a material person; she took heavy loans to continue living the wealthy life she was used to even after her husband died. The company was failing, but she spent on clothes and jewelry.

"What? How dare you!" Natalie's face contorted with anger. This sister of hers had gone from being a social anxiety patient to an extrovert overnight. It was unexplainable and how scary she seemed.

It brought memories of the assassin she had helped James to get rid of. How was that possible?

Did slitting her wrist suddenly empower her? Instead of dealing with this trouble, Natalie wished Brielle had died instead.

"Come to think of it, Natalie, I think she has a point," one of the other girls chimed in.

In an instant, the good daughter facade went out the window. Natalie rejected the idea firmly, "I'm not giving anything a thought. I love Enzo and will marry only him."

Enzo?

Brielle's mind raced. If Natalie loved this Enzo guy, then what about James?

From Brielle's memory, she could tell that even Natalie was also involved with James. He was such a flirt afterall. In fact, he was playing both Natalie and Brielle which made them fight a lot. Was she cuckolding him?

It didn't matter. James had betrayed her, and she wouldn't care if he was being cuckolded. It was his bed; he must lie in it.

As they lunged at her, Brielle kicked one in the stomach, pulled another's hair, and tossed her across the room. The third girl found herself pushed to the floor. Moments later, all of them lay sprawling on the ground.

"What's wrong? Aren't you going to stop me?" Brielle teased, playing with the doorknob. Her face grew serious as she threatened, "You better stay out of my way."

With that, Brielle escaped from the room. Two guards spotted her and began to chase her. She ran like lightning, determined not to marry that old man to please this foolish family. She needed to get matters straightened out before she could have her revenge.

If she was here in Brielle's body, where was her body?

"Where is she?" one of the guards shouted, and Brielle's keen hearing picked up the sound. She could even hear everyone's heartbeat if she focused. It must be a new power she had gotten after the rebirth, she would use to get her revenge.

They will regret messing with assassin Bloody. The name was given because she loved killing people in a messy way which led to them bleeding to death.

"There she is!"

Once again, Brielle kicked off her feet to evade capture. Suddenly, she collided with something solid-a wall that paralyzed her entire being. She looked up and found a man.

Not just any man-a ridiculously handsome one. He had auburn curly hair and dark hazel eyes. Brielle's heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. He was too good-looking to be ignored. The full-sleeve tattoo on his right arm drew her in, and the earring piercing gave him a laid-back yet dangerous aura.

"Watch where you're going!" the man seethed, bending to pick up the file that had fallen from his hand. When he straightened, he found Brielle staring back at him, her clear blue eyes contrasting with her long black hair cascading down her back.

She looked as if she had stepped out of Greek mythology. For the first time, Enzo Ricci did a double take on a girl. The ripped wedding dress gave her a fierce look to her entire attire. The sweat on her forehead proved she had been running.

He wished to know about this girl and why she was running away from her wedding.

"What about you? Were you blind?" Brielle shot back, her anger matching his. Her eyes were fierce, contrasting with her innocent features. She was never the type to back off from a fight, even if she was losing already.

Just then, Brielle heard one of the guards say, "I've found her!" The voice was loud, meaning they were closing in. She glanced down the hall-there was only one way to go, and no open doors. They would catch her for sure.

"Can I kiss you?" Brielle asked suddenly, his voice low and intense. Confusion flickered on Enzo's face at her request.

Without waiting for an answer, Brielle wrapped her arm around his neck, adjusting to her new height of five feet six by standing on her toes and pulling him down with her. While he stood six feet, three. Their lips crashed together, and goosebumps exploded over her body. It was like nothing she had ever felt before. She sucked on his lower lip slowly, savoring the moment.

The guards stopped in their tracks at the sight of Enzo, who shot them a warning glare. They ran back, knowing better than to mess with him.

What was meant to be a pretend kiss quickly turned into something more. Enzo deepened the kiss, spinning her into a whirlwind of intoxicating sensations that made her weak in the knees. Brielle felt her heart racing wildly in her chest.

Suddenly, she forgot to breathe and ended up coughing.

Enzo pulled back, regarding her with a complicated look in his eyes. "Are you okay?" he asked, offering her a bottle of water he had already taken a sip from.

Brielle glanced at the bottle as if it were infested with germs. "No thanks," she replied, her tone dismissive. Although her mind still drifted back to that moment of the kiss. It was annoying how she was attracted to this strange man.

Offended was a mild word to explain how he felt at the moment. This woman was something else for sure.

How dare she kiss him and then refuse to share a bottle?

In fact, Enzo Ricci was intrigued by her boldness.

Just as he opened his mouth to say something, Brielle placed a finger on his lips, signaling him to be quiet. Enzo watched her finger, wondering just how bold this woman truly was. No one had ever dared to touch his lips and gotten away with it.

Brielle needed silence to confirm if the guards were gone. They were. She smiled, pleased that her little show had worked.

Pulling her finger away, she turned to leave when Enzo grabbed her arm, his eyes earnest. "You stole my first kiss. Why not steal my last name next?"

#Chapter 4: You Want It Believable?

"You stole my first kiss. Why not steal my last name next?" Enzo's teasing tone hung in the air.

Taken aback by his question, Brielle blinked several times. "Huh? Are you stupid or just high on drugs?" she shot back, her brows furrowing in disbelief.

At that moment, Enzo's trusted assistant, Franco, appeared. He felt his heart freeze at the audacity of this woman calling his boss stupid.

*She called him stupid and is still breathing?* Andrew thought, pinching himself to ensure it wasn't a dream.

Ouch.

It was all too real. This woman had truly called his boss stupid and was still standing. Andrew glanced at the arm that Enzo was holding.

*This girl...*

"Marry me," Enzo said, amusement dancing in his eyes. He had never been interested in a girl since...

"No," Brielle replied coldly, her gaze unwavering. She had just escaped from a wedding; why would she even consider marrying another stranger?

What for?

It was time for her to leave. Brielle pulled her arm back harshly and glared at him, genuine confusion etched on her face. No one had ever held her hand for so long and not faced dire consequences. Why wasn't she disgusted with his touch?

It took a while for her to get over James's touch, but with this man, it felt almost... safe? This was crazy.

"The last thing I need is boy drama," she muttered, shaking her head. "Thank you for your service," Brielle added, turning to leave.

Franco dashed to Enzo's side, who was still watching the girl leave in awe. Clearing his throat, he tried to get Enzo's attention, but Enzo remained fixed on the fleeing figure.

"She has escaped. We can't find her," Franco reported, swallowing hard. The V-neckline of his shirt was covered in sweat from running after the girl.

"What?" Enzo's brow furrowed. He shut his eyes in annoyance, feeling his jaw tick. "The girl was shivering like she had pneumonia before the wedding, but now she suddenly has the strength to run away?"

"You shouldn't be surprised, boss. Only the mention of your name sends shivers down the spine of the president of the country," Franco reminded him, his chest swelling with pride. Being feared was a necessity in their line of work.

"I need a bride if I want to put an end to my father's power." His voice thundered, the words echoing off the walls as he unleashed his fury.

"I know, boss."

"I need a bride now. Find my nephew and give him the assignment." The frustration and anger in Enzo's voice were evident.

"You mean James Ricci? Didn't he break into your warehouse last week with that assassin, Bloody? Are you willing to trust him?"

"Trust?" Enzo lit his cigarette, a smirk forming on his lips. He clenched his fists, the knuckles white with tension, as he struggled to contain his temper. "I don't trust my own mother; why would I waste it on him? If he could betray his girlfriend, why wouldn't he do the same? James is trying hard to get a promotion. This will be good news for him."

James?

Although she was at the end of the hall, Brielle overheard their conversation, her heightened hearing kicking in. She pinned her hair behind her ear to ease the tension.

*James Ricci was her ex-boyfriend-the one who had killed her.*

*So this is your uncle?* Brielle thought, her eyes drifting back to the man. *You must be adopted because you don't look anything like him. Poor thing.*

James was a lower grade in looks, especially compared to his uncle. It was hard to believe they were related at all.

*And he's looking for a bride?*

A smile crept onto her face, the corners of her mouth curling upward like a sunrise breaking over the horizon. She glanced down at her wedding dress, with sleeves stripped and half the bottom cut. It ended knee-length but was still beautiful-perfect for some badass pictures.

In the next moment, Brielle found her legs moving toward the man, each step elegant as if convincing him to accept her as his bride.

"I accept," she said solemnly.

"Accept what?" Franco frowned, confused.

However, Brielle maintained her calm composure, arms crossed. "I will marry you."

Enzo raised an eyebrow at her bold confession. A strange emotion flickered in her eyes. "Do you know who I am, little girl?"

*Little girl?* She was not a child. Someone with her experiences couldn't be categorized as such.

"No," she answered boldly. "Neither do you know me."

Enzo let out a dark laugh at her response.

"I am Brielle Smith, daughter of Sylvia and George Smith. I am twenty years old, enrolled at Lancaster University majoring in fashion. My favorite color is pink, and I love pizza," she rambled, reciting information as if it were a memory.

Pink? Enzo examined the girl, incredulous. It sounded unbelievable.

Rather than answering further questions, he continued, "I am Enzo Ricci, thirty-three years old. I work in the paper-making industry and don't have a favorite color. I hate pizza."

"Practically soulmates," she joked, a smirk playing on her lips.

*Paper-making industry?* Franco almost laughed out loud when he heard this. What was his boss up to?

Watching this rollercoaster, Andrew pulled his boss aside and whispered, "You're going to marry this lady? She does not seem ordinary, and she might be a spy."

"I guess we'll find out," Enzo replied, a sly smile creeping onto his lips.

While Brielle eavesdropped, her shoulders relaxed when she heard what he said.

"Let's get married," Enzo declared.

Upon arriving at the Bureau of Civil Service and Affairs, the man in charge jumped to his feet upon seeing Enzo. He wore a black suit, barely holding it together over his potbelly.

As expected, there was another girl with him. This girl was the prettiest of them all; there was something about her eyes that gave him the shivers. She looked innocent, but he could tell she was trouble. Unlike the other girls, she wasn't screaming, crying, or looking nervous.

This girl was, in fact, too composed. It frightened Franco a lot.

"Mr. Ricci," he called, eager to start kissing up, knowing everyone-even the country's president-was scared of this man.

"I'm back, Larry," Enzo answered, spreading his arms. He was determined to get married.

"I can see that," Larry replied, his voice shaky, sweat glistening on his forehead. "Are you ready to be a husband?"

Andrew raised an eyebrow, realizing they were only here to get married; Enzo had no interest in any relationship.

Upon realizing he had overstepped, Larry's face fell. He regained his composure and led them inside.

"Look at the camera, and could you move closer?" the cameraman at the Bureau of Civil Service and Affairs asked.

As if on cue, Enzo and Brielle glanced at the cameraman, causing him to stumble back. Larry rushed to help him up.

"What's wrong?" he asked, noticing his employee's panicked face.

"They look like they're going to murder each other, not like they're in love."

"Shut up!" Larry warned.

However, the cameraman was a bit bold. He asked, "Could you actually smile?"

Brielle massaged her face, attempting to smile. It felt like something was climbing up her face, and the smile looked very unnatural.

"Sir, you have to smile to make this marriage more believable."

"Don't bother; my husband has a facial disorder; he can't smile," Brielle replied in a sickly sweet voice.

Enzo frowned at her. "You want believable?" He leaned down and kissed her. It was unexpected; Brielle raised her hand to his chest to stop him, but he held it against his chest.

The photographer took the photo of them. It came out beautifully, and everyone could tell they were in love. This was the most intimate photo he had taken for a marriage certificate photo.

Rather inappropriate.

Still, this was Enzo Ricci, the most feared man in the country. The photographer could not dare to ask for another photo if he wanted to live.

Brielle was left breathing hard after the kiss. She pointed her index finger at him. "Don't you dare kiss me again, or I will slit your throat and watch the blood drop on your designer suit!"

Stunned by her threat, Enzo touched her lower lip with his finger, desire intensifying in him. He laughed darkly, "Oh honey, you are made for me."