Elliana stared at the woman standing in the doorway.

The memories of the prison floor, the shattered ribs, and the taste of her own blood violently crashed into her skull. Her fingernails dug so deeply into her palms that the skin nearly broke. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird.

She wanted to lunge across the room and wrap her hands around Jovita's throat. She wanted to squeeze until those fake, innocent eyes bulged out of her skull.

But Elliana forced her muscles to relax. She let her shoulders slump, mimicking the confused, irritable girl she had been ten years ago.

Jovita walked closer, carrying a glass of milk on a silver tray. She set it on the nightstand and sat on the edge of the mattress.

"Ellie, you look terrible," Jovita said, her brow furrowing in perfect, practiced sympathy. "Did you not sleep well? Did Damon... did he hurt you?"

Elliana's stomach churned at the manipulation. Jovita was planting the seed. She was trying to frame Damon's touch as a violation, stoking the fire of Elliana's past resentment.

In her previous life, Elliana had taken the bait. She had screamed, thrown the glass of milk at the wall, and stormed downstairs to demand a divorce from Damon before he even finished his coffee.

Elliana looked at the milk. She didn't touch it.

"It's nothing," Elliana said, her voice intentionally flat.

A flicker of surprise crossed Jovita's eyes. This wasn't the explosive reaction she expected.

Jovita reached out and affectionately linked her arm through Elliana's. "Sister, you don't have to force yourself. I know you don't love him. This arranged marriage is so unfair to you."

Jovita squeezed her arm. "Look at what he did to you last night. He didn't care about your feelings at all. A man like that, no matter how rich or powerful the Stirling family is, will never make you happy."

With her free hand, Jovita reached into her designer pocket and pulled out a small, unmarked plastic bottle. She pressed it into Elliana's palm.

"I got these from a friend. They're strong sleeping pills," Jovita whispered, her eyes darting to the door as if they were sharing a dangerous secret. "If he tries to force you again tonight, just slip a few into his drink. You can..."

Elliana stared at the little white pills rattling inside the plastic.

The memory hit her like a physical blow. In her past life, she had used these exact pills. During a screaming match, she had dumped them into Damon's whiskey. It had caused a severe gastric hemorrhage. Damon had been rushed to the hospital, and the entire Stirling family had turned against her in disgust.

Jovita had been paving her road to hell since day two.

Elliana tightened her grip on the bottle. Her knuckles turned stark white. She forced the corners of her mouth to lift into a weak, grateful smile.

"You're the only one who really cares about me, Jovita," Elliana said softly.

Jovita beamed, patting Elliana's hand. "We're sisters. You need to figure out how to divorce him quickly. The longer you drag this out, the worse it will be for you."

Jovita leaned in closer. "I heard Damon cares about the Stirling Group's reputation more than anything. You should go to his office today. Make a scene. Embarrass him in front of his employees. If he gets angry enough, he'll definitely sign the divorce papers."

Elliana nodded slowly, keeping her eyes wide and naive. "You're right. I can't just sit here and take this."

Satisfied that her poison had been swallowed, Jovita stood up. "I'll go wait for you downstairs. Mom has called three times already. She's so worried about you."

Elliana knew Greta Lewis didn't give a damn about her well-being. Her stepmother only cared if Elliana had successfully alienated the Stirling family yet.

"Okay," Elliana said.

The second the bedroom door clicked shut, the fake smile melted off Elliana's face, leaving behind a mask of pure, freezing ice.

She threw the blankets off and walked directly into the massive en-suite bathroom. She needed a moment to ground herself. She gripped the edges of the marble sink and stared at her reflection.

She looked so young. Her collarbones and the pale skin of her neck were covered in dark, purplish bruises-hickeys. The physical evidence of Damon's intense, desperate possession from the night before.

In her past life, she had scrubbed at her skin until it bled, disgusted by his touch.

Now, Elliana reached up and gently traced the marks with her fingertips. Her breath hitched. A strange, heavy heat pooled in her lower stomach. Damon. Even when she had been a monster to him, he had never truly hurt her.

She turned on the cold water and splashed her face, shocking her system into absolute clarity. After drying her skin, she slowly walked back out into the bedroom and approached the floor-to-ceiling window. Looking down at the manicured driveway, she saw Jovita standing near a black SUV. Jovita was whispering something to Damon's personal driver, slipping a folded piece of paper into the man's hand.

Jovita already had spies in the estate.

Elliana turned away, her resolve hardening into steel. She unscrewed the cap of the plastic bottle Jovita had given her. She dumped the white pills into the sink and watched them swirl down the drain.

This time, she was going to tear Jovita's life apart piece by piece. And she was going to hold onto Damon Stirling so tightly that nothing in this world could ever pry them apart.

Elliana walked into the walk-in closet. She bypassed the ripped jeans and graphic tees she used to wear to rebel against the family image. She pulled out a tailored, elegant beige dress that covered the marks on her neck perfectly.

She smoothed the fabric over her hips, took a deep breath, and opened the bedroom door. It was time to put on a show.

Elliana descended the grand spiral staircase, her heels clicking softly against the marble steps.

Jovita was already seated at the massive dining table, sipping orange juice. When she saw Elliana, Jovita gave her a subtle, encouraging wink.

Elliana ignored her. She looked at the head of the table. The chair was empty. The silver cutlery was untouched. Damon was already gone.

A pang of genuine sadness hit her chest. In her past life, Damon had left early the morning after their wedding, too. He had known she hated him, and he had given her space, burying himself in his work rather than facing her hostility.

"See?" Jovita said, her voice dripping with fake pity. "He doesn't value you at all. Ellie, you can't put up with this."

Elliana didn't look at her stepsister. She turned her gaze to the woman standing rigidly near the kitchen entrance.

"Marge," Elliana said, her voice calm and clear. "What time did Mr. Stirling leave?"

Marge Kowalski, the head housekeeper in her stiff black uniform, stepped forward. Her face was a mask of professional indifference. "The mister left an hour ago, Mrs. Stirling." Marge's tone was entirely devoid of warmth, the title dropping from her lips with a subtle, dismissive edge that felt more like a chore than a sign of actual respect.

Elliana's eyes narrowed slightly. The mister. And the cold, forced 'Mrs. Stirling'.

In her past life, she hadn't cared. She had hated the Stirling name. But now, the blatant disrespect in the housekeeper's attitude grated against her nerves. It was a glaring symbol of how little genuine authority she held in this house, despite her legal title.

"You go ahead and eat," Elliana said to Jovita, her tone dismissive. "I don't have much of an appetite."

Jovita panicked. She jumped up and grabbed Elliana's wrist. "You're going to go find him on an empty stomach? How are you going to have the energy to fight with him if you don't eat?"

Elliana looked down at Jovita's hand clutching her wrist. She yanked her arm back with a sharp, violent motion.

"Who told you I was going to fight with him?" Elliana's voice was like cracked ice.

Jovita froze. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. She stared at Elliana, a flicker of genuine fear crossing her wide eyes. This wasn't the impulsive, easily manipulated girl she knew.

Elliana turned back to the housekeeper. "Marge, prepare a breakfast to go. Pack it well. And have the driver bring the car around. I'm going to the Stirling Group."

Jovita's jaw dropped. The script in her head was entirely ruined. "Ellie, are you crazy? You're not going to demand a divorce? You're bringing him breakfast?"

Elliana stopped walking. She slowly turned around and locked eyes with her stepsister. A mocking smile curled the corners of her lips.

"Jovita," Elliana said softly, the threat in her voice unmistakable. "This is between my husband and me. Since when is it your place to tell me how to handle my marriage?"

Jovita's face drained of all color. She took a step back, physically intimidated by the sheer, crushing weight of Elliana's aura.

Without waiting for a response, Elliana walked straight into the kitchen. She bypassed Marge and stood over the prep counter, pointing at the ingredients.

"No pastries," Elliana instructed the stunned kitchen staff. "Make a simple club sandwich. And black coffee. No sugar, no cream."

She remembered exactly how Damon liked his breakfast.

Jovita stood paralyzed in the dining room. Her heart hammered with anxiety. Something was horribly wrong. Elliana was acting like a completely different person. Jovita quickly pulled her phone from her purse and typed a frantic text to her mother: Mom, the plan is messed up. Elliana is acting weird.

Ten minutes later, Marge walked out of the kitchen carrying an insulated paper bag. She handed it to Elliana, her expression still guarded.

Elliana took the bag by the handles. She didn't walk away immediately. She stood perfectly still, forcing Marge to maintain eye contact.

"From today onward, while you are inside this estate," Elliana said, her voice dropping an octave, "you will address me with the genuine respect due to Damon's wife, not as some temporary guest you can look down upon. Do you understand?"

Marge blinked, startled. She looked at the young woman standing before her. The rebellious teenager was gone, replaced by a woman radiating absolute authority.

Marge swallowed hard and bowed her head, the previous indifference completely wiped from her demeanor. "Yes, ma'am. I understand, Mrs. Stirling."

"Good." Elliana turned on her heel and walked toward the front doors.

Jovita, desperate to regain control, scrambled after her. "Sister, let me go with you! What if he treats you badly? I can protect you..."

Elliana stopped at the threshold. She didn't even look back.

"No need," Elliana said coldly. "Didn't you say Mom was worried about me? You should stay here. Give her a full report on exactly what I'm doing."

She hit the word report heavily.

Jovita gasped, her feet rooting to the marble floor. She didn't dare take another step.

Elliana walked out into the crisp morning air and slid into the back of the waiting town car. As the vehicle pulled away from the estate, she watched the scenery blur past the tinted windows. "Traffic is a bit heavy today, Mrs. Stirling," the driver remarked casually, glancing at the rearview mirror. "There's been a lot of chaos over by the East District intersections lately. Several major accidents just this week involving delivery trucks running red lights. We'll take the slightly longer route to be safe."

"That's fine," Elliana murmured, her mind entirely focused on her destination. Her chest felt tight, her pulse thrumming in her ears.

She was going to see him. And this time, she was going to do it right.

The black town car glided to a halt in front of the towering glass-and-steel monolith of the Stirling Group headquarters.

Before the driver could even open her door, a swarm of reporters descended on the vehicle like vultures. Camera flashes exploded against the tinted glass.

Elliana took a deep breath, grabbed the insulated breakfast bag, and pushed the door open.

Microphones were immediately shoved into her face. The noise was deafening.

"Miss Lewis! Is it true your marriage to Damon Stirling is already over?" a reporter named Grant Fletcher shouted over the din, practically shoving his recorder against her chin. "Rumor has it you were discussing divorce terms on your wedding night!"

In her past life, the flashing lights and aggressive questions had triggered her anxiety. She had screamed at them, swatted the cameras away, and stormed into the building looking like a deranged, spoiled brat-giving them exactly the headline they wanted.

This time, Elliana stopped. She stood tall, her posture impeccable in her beige dress. A polite, radiant smile bloomed on her face.

She gently pushed Grant Fletcher's microphone down with two manicured fingers.

"I'm sorry," Elliana said, her voice smooth and carrying perfectly over the crowd. "My husband is waiting for me to join him for breakfast. I really can't keep him waiting."

She emphasized the words my husband and breakfast.

The reporters fell dead silent. The aggressive shouting died in their throats. They stared at her, completely thrown off balance. This wasn't the hostile, Damon-hating heiress they had been told to expect. She looked like a woman deeply in love.

Taking advantage of their shock, Elliana slipped past them, flanked by the building's security guards, and walked through the revolving glass doors.

The lobby of the Stirling Group was a cavernous expanse of white marble and chrome. Elliana walked straight to the massive front reception desk.

The receptionist looked up. Recognition flashed in her eyes, followed instantly by a wall of professional caution. "Mrs. Stirling," the receptionist said, though her eyes held a guarded, almost wary glint, clearly anticipating a tantrum. "How can I help you?"

"I'm here to see Damon," Elliana said, keeping her smile in place.

The receptionist shifted uncomfortably. "I apologize, but Mr. Stirling is in a crucial board meeting. He left strict instructions not to be disturbed by anyone."

It was exactly what Elliana expected. Damon was actively avoiding her, assuming she was coming to cause a scene.

Instead of slamming her hands on the desk and screaming, Elliana simply nodded. "That's perfectly fine. I'll just wait for him here."

She pointed to the sleek leather sofas in the waiting area. "I won't be in the way."

The receptionist blinked, clearly not knowing how to handle this calm, compliant version of Elliana. "Uh... alright."

Elliana walked over to the sofa, sat down, and placed the breakfast bag neatly on the glass coffee table. She crossed her legs and waited.

Her quiet presence sent ripples of whispered gossip throughout the lobby. Employees walked by, casting covert glances at the CEO's notorious new wife, who was sitting as still and patient as a statue.

An hour ticked by. Elliana's back ached slightly, but she didn't move.

Finally, the chime of the private VIP elevator echoed through the lobby. The polished steel doors slid open.

Damon Stirling stepped out.

He was surrounded by a phalanx of nervous-looking executives, but he eclipsed them all. He wore a bespoke charcoal suit that hugged his broad shoulders perfectly. His face was a masterpiece of sharp angles and cold, ruthless authority. The sheer power rolling off him made the air in the lobby feel thin.

His executive assistant, Campbell Gibson, walked closely beside him, leaning in to whisper something in Damon's ear.

Damon's dark eyes instantly snapped toward the waiting area.

When his gaze locked onto Elliana sitting on the sofa, a microscopic flicker of shock broke through his icy facade. He had expected her to be screaming at the front desk. He had expected shattered glass and a PR nightmare. He hadn't expected her to be sitting there quietly, holding a paper bag.

But the shock vanished in a millisecond. His jaw clenched tight. His footsteps faltered for a fraction of a second, a complex, turbulent emotion flashing through the deep, dark depths of his eyes. But he quickly forced it down, his expression hardening back into an impenetrable mask. He finally tore his gaze away, deciding it was safer to keep walking straight toward the exit rather than risk falling into whatever trap she had set.

The executives noticed Elliana, their eyes darting nervously between her and their boss, but no one dared to speak.

As Damon reached the doors, Elliana stood up. She didn't run, but she walked with urgent purpose.

Just as Campbell reached out to push the glass door open for his boss, Elliana stepped directly into Damon's path.

Campbell froze. The executives stopped breathing.

Damon looked down at her. His eyes were like chips of black ice. There was no warmth, no affection-only a deep, guarded distance.

Elliana felt a sharp pain in her chest at that look, but she forced her brightest smile. She held the insulated bag up toward his chest.

"Damon," she said, her voice sweet and entirely natural, as if they did this every day. "I knew you didn't eat this morning. I brought you breakfast."