“I understand, Victoria,” Brendon’s voice broke through the night air, soft but heavy, each word carrying a weight I couldn’t quite breathe under. “You’re choosing Leandro over me… well then, it’s time for me to say goodbye. I wish you a happy marriage.”

I blinked.

The roses swayed in the breeze, their fragrance cloying. Candlelight flickered against crystal glasses on the table, and a lone butterfly drifted past, wings brushing my shoulder as if nudging me awake.

Déjà vu.

My heart clenched. This place. This dinner. This exact moment—six years ago.

It was here, beneath this same night sky, that Brendon Urie, heir of the powerful Urie family and my childhood companion, had once proposed to me. We had grown up side by side—his laughter always a steady comfort, his hand always reaching for mine whenever I fell. And yet, I had turned him down. I chose Leandro instead.

Leandro, the man I thought would love me forever.

At first, marriage had been bliss, painted with soft kisses and sweet promises. But the illusion shattered. Slowly, painfully, Leandro drifted from me, pulled away by the shadow of another—Abby. His mistress and my stepsister.

By our fifth anniversary, the truth clawed its way into the open. I confronted them both, my hands shaking, my voice breaking. But instead of denying, instead of apologizing, Leandro had pulled the trigger.

I remembered the searing pain. The blood. My body collapsing onto the cold marble floor.

I had died. So how? How was I here again?

My vision blurred as I looked at Brendon, his figure retreating, his shoulders stiff with pain. He had been there, hadn’t he? In that other life. Even when Leandro struck me, even when Abby framed me, even when my world collapsed, it was Brendon who tried to save me. Brendon who used every ounce of his power and wealth to pull me back from the edge of death.

He was the one who truly loved me.

I failed him then.

But not this time.

“Wait!” My voice cracked as I shot forward, the chair screeching against stone. “Brendon, stop! Don’t go!”

He froze mid-step, turning slowly, confusion lacing his sharp features.

“I…” My throat tightened, but I forced the words out. “I accept the marriage.”

His brows furrowed. “Accept… the marriage?” He studied me, suspicion flickering in his eyes. “Are you sure, Victoria? Are you playing with me again?”

My chest constricted. The scene felt too raw, too familiar. Because in my past life, I had been cruel without meaning to. I had given him false hope, keeping him close when I should have let him go, while all the while choosing Leandro.

I couldn’t let Brendon go, not completely—not when his presence had always been my safety, my comfort. And yet, I still chose someone else, leaving him torn between hope and despair.

Even as I lay dying later, his name had clung to my lips. Because deep down, I knew the truth I had denied for so long—Brendon’s love had been the only one that was real.

I drew in a shuddering breath, clutching the edge of my dress. “Please,” I whispered, eyes locked on Brendon’s. “I’m sorry. But listen to me. I accept your proposal. But… I can’t just break off my engagement with Leandro. Our families… the agreement… It won’t be that easy.”

Brendon’s frown deepened. “Then what are you saying?”

I exhaled sharply, a spark of wild desperation lighting inside me. “Help me ruin the wedding. Come. Take me away. Make me a runaway bride.”

For the first time, he faltered. His usual composure cracked, and he stared at me as if I had lost my mind. “Victoria…”

I leaned closer, gripping his sleeve as if he were my only lifeline. “I mean it. Just give me time. Let me handle a few things. But when that day comes… come for me.”

Brendon’s eyes searched mine, as if weighing whether this was another cruel game of false hope. For one suspended moment, I feared he would turn away. But then, slowly, he nodded. “Do whatever you need to do. I’ll be there for you.”

Something in my chest uncoiled, a fragile thread of relief. For once, I hadn’t let him go.

I decided to go back to the estate to see Leandro.

When I stepped inside, Leandro was waiting, his arms folded tightly, jaw taut with irritation. “Where have you been?” he snapped, rising to his feet. “I’ve been trying to reach you. You’re not answering your phone. What about the gown fitting?”

I froze. The gown fitting. How could I forget? In my past life, I had missed it because I was bedridden, too ill to stand due to the poisoned soup that Abby cooked for me. Back then, I thought it was a mistake but it seemed she tried to kill me.

Right on cue, she appeared, her smile sweet and practiced. “Since you weren’t there, I handled it for you,” she said lightly, looping her arm through Leandro’s with a familiarity that made my skin crawl. “Don’t worry, Victoria. The gown is beautiful. I made sure it would fit you perfectly.”

In my past life, I had smiled at her then—grateful, trusting. I had thought Abby was my stepsister. That she had only wanted the best for me.

But standing here now, the pieces slid together with cruel precision. The looks, the whispers, the quiet moments between her and Leandro I had brushed aside as my imagination.

I could only scoff under my breath, the sound bitter in my throat. “Of course you did,” I murmured.

Leandro’s brows furrowed, but Abby only tilted her head with that sickeningly innocent grin.

And in that moment, as I looked between the man I once thought I loved and the stepsister who had betrayed me, I felt it more keenly than ever.

Yes. I was truly reborn. And this time, I wasn’t going to let them destroy me.

I turned on my heel and headed straight toward my room, ignoring Leandro’s scowl and Abby’s little pout. My silence seemed to disturb them more than any argument could.

“Wait, sister,” Abby’s shrill voice chased after me. “Why aren’t you saying anything? Are you… are you mad at me?”

I froze at my door, my hand tightening on the knob. Slowly, I turned, meeting her watery eyes. “What do you expect me to say?”

Her lips trembled, and then, right on cue, the tears started to spill. “So you are mad at me…” she whispered, lower lip trembling like some innocent child. “I didn’t mean anything bad, sister. I was only trying to help you.”

I hated it. God, I hated it. That act. That pitiful, babyish crying. It always worked—on everyone else. On my father, on Leandro, even on strangers.

And maybe, deep down, it was why my life had been ripped apart in the first place. Because Abby had mastered the art of playing the victim, while I… I had been too blind.

I clenched my fists at my sides. Her tears reminded me of everything I had buried: how her mother, Lillian, had been the reason my father left my real mother. How my mother had wasted away in depression, her body and heart too weak to survive. And when she died, I was forced into this house. Into their hands.

Father had always been good to me, yes. But Lillian… she despised me. She made sure I knew it every single day. The bruises, the threats, the whispers in my ear at night: If you ever tell him, I’ll kill your father. Keep quiet, or he dies.

And so I had. I had swallowed my pain, my anger, my helplessness, and grown up believing silence was my only weapon.

But not anymore.

“Victoria,” Leandro’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts. He sounded furious. “You’re making your stepsister cry!”

I blinked at him, stunned. Then a laugh burst from me, bitter and sharp. “Cry? It’s not my fault! I don’t even know why she’s crying.”

Abby sniffled, her lashes fluttering delicately. “Maybe… maybe it’s because you’re mad about me fitting your gown earlier… You think I’m gonna steal Leandro, is that it?”

The room went still. Then I laughed. “Oh, trust me,” I said, each word dripping with venom, “I’d love for you to marry Leandro instead of me.”

I didn’t wait for their reaction. I walked out.

But Leandro wasn’t done. He followed me into the corridor, his hand grabbing my wrist. “Victoria! What’s wrong with you? Why are you saying things like that when it’s only days before the wedding? We’re about to be married!”

I yanked my arm back, glaring at him. “I’m tired, Leandro.”

“Tired?” His eyes narrowed, suspicion flashing. “Is this because of Brendon? Is that it? Because you’ve been cheating on me with him?”

The air froze.

“You think I don’t know?” His grip tightened on me. “He proposed to you, didn’t he? Do you think I’d let you marry someone else? You’re mine, Victoria. Mine.”

“You’re insane,” I spat.

He smirked, leaning close enough for me to feel his breath. “From now on, Brendon will never look at you again.”

My heart stuttered. “What… are you saying?”

Leandro pulled out his phone and shoved it in my face. A video played—grainy, intimate. Us. In bed. Exposed.

Except… no. That wasn’t me. My blood ran cold.

“You’re lying,” I hissed. “Nothing like that ever happened between us. That’s fake—AI, edited—”

“Really?” His lips curved. “Then explain how I know about the scar on your breast. I told him about it too.”

My stomach dropped. “You…” My voice cracked. “Did you check my body when I was asleep?”

He only smirked darker.

“I’m warning you, Victoria.” His voice was low, dangerous. “If you even think about ditching the wedding or running to Brendon, everyone will see this video. Your reputation will be ruined.”

Tears stung my eyes, but not from fear. From rage. “Why?” I demanded. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I love you,” he said simply. “And I hate seeing you with Brendon.”

“That’s not love.”

“Whatever you say,” he sneered. “But in this lifetime, you’re mine. The only one you’ll ever marry.”

He stormed away, leaving me shaking.

I pressed a hand to my chest, forcing air into my lungs. Damn it. Damn him. He thought he could trap me with this? Twist reality? Brendon had to believe me. He had to.

Unless…

A thought struck me. Abby liked him. She always had. Maybe… maybe I could use that. Maybe if I nudged her toward him, she’d convince Father to swap the engagement. After all, this was a business arrangement. My feelings had been the only reason I agreed back then. But now?

Now, I knew better.

I was on my way to Father’s office when voices stopped me. From the library.

I crept closer.

“…why not just marry me?” Abby’s voice. Sweet, dripping. “Why bother with her?”

Leandro’s chuckle followed. “Because she has the largest share from her father. My parents want her. She’s the legal daughter. You? Your mother’s just a mistress. They’ll never accept you.”

My breath hitched.

“But once she signs everything over,” Abby pressed, “you’ll get rid of her, right?”

“Of course.” His tone was mocking, cruel. “Then it’ll be just you and me. She’s nothing but a placeholder.”

I bit back my laugh, cold and sharp. Perfect. Keep talking. Keep proving me right.

I turned to leave, but another scene caught my eye—down the hall. My stepmother, Lillian, stood in the gallery, hurling my mother’s portrait onto the ground.

“No!” I rushed forward, grabbing it. My chest ached at the sight of my mother’s painted smile. “Don’t throw this away! That’s my mother!”

Lillian’s eyes narrowed. “And I’m the mistress of this house. Remember that.”

I stood taller, clutching the painting to my chest. “And I’m the legal daughter.”

Her lips twisted. “So what? You’re defying me now?”

Her hand cracked across my face before I could react.

My own hand rose before I could stop myself. Smack.

The sound echoed through the hall. Lillian’s eyes widened in shock, her hand flying to her cheek. “You… you dare to hit me?”

“Yes,” I hissed, my voice trembling with rage and years of swallowed silence.

Her expression warped into fury. She yanked at my hair, dragging me toward the stairs. “You ungrateful brat! Hurting your stepmother? You need an earful!”

“Let me go!” I clawed at her grip, but she dragged me into the room and slammed the door shut. The next moment, her palm met my face again. And again. Over and over until my skin burned and my ears rang.

“Stop this!” I screamed, my tears hot and useless. “If you don’t stop, Father will know! He’ll—”

She leaned close, her breath venomous. “And what then? Will you risk his health? You know he’s weak, sickly. Do you want to give him stress? Do you want his death on your conscience?”

The blows didn’t stop. One. Two. A hundred. My whole face throbbed, my knees buckling, but I bit my lip until I tasted blood.

The door creaked. Leandro. He stood there, watching.

Relief flickered for a second—until his lips curled into a smirk. “I think you deserve that,” he said coldly. “For being a bitch to your stepsister.”

And then he left.

Another slap landed. My chest caved in, not from the pain but from the weight of betrayal.

It was Father’s voice that finally stopped it. “What the hell is happening here?”

The door swung wider, and he stood there, his face red with shock and anger.

“She defied me!” Lillian cried instantly, gripping her cheek as if she had been the victim. “Your daughter slapped me!”

Father turned his gaze on me, stern and disappointed. “Victoria. Is this true? I never taught you this.”

I shook my head, desperate. “No! She was throwing Mother’s painting away. I was only protecting it—”

Father’s face hardened. “That was my decision. I don’t want reminders of the dead cluttering this house. You should have listened.”

My breath caught. His decision? No, this wasn’t him. This was her poison working its way through him.

“Apologize to your stepmother,” he ordered.

The world tilted. My pride screamed. But his eyes left no room for refusal. My jaw clenched until it ached, but I forced the word out. “Sorry.”

Lillian’s lips curled in triumph.

When they left, I collapsed onto the floor, pressing trembling hands against my bruised cheeks. Silent tears spilled down my face. For a moment, despair almost crushed me.

But then—clarity.

Not this time.

I would not waste this second chance. I would not let them kill me again. I would survive. Change everything. There were only days until the wedding. Still days to rewrite my fate.

That night, I began moving my funds. Everything that was legally mine, I transferred into an account Lillian could never touch, no matter what happened to Father. No matter how they tried to frame me.

And then I went to him.

“Father,” I whispered into his study. He looked tired, weaker than I remembered.

“Victoria? What is it?”

I took a deep breath. “Please… don’t drink what Lillian gives you. Don’t sign anything over to her. I know you won’t believe me, but she’s been hurting me. And I know you won’t protect me. But if you love me, just… don’t let her destroy you.”

Confusion clouded his gaze. “Victoria—”

I didn’t wait. I turned and left. Because I knew he wouldn’t believe me. Not yet.

But maybe, just maybe, a seed of doubt would take root.

By morning, my phone wouldn’t stop buzzing.

Leandro.

“Where are you?” His voice was sharp. “Why didn’t you come home? What are you playing at?”

My chest tightened, but I forced myself to walk into the living room. The television was still on, muted, the blue glow casting harsh shadows across the walls. I grabbed the remote, turned the volume up, and there it was—my face.

“Victoria Hale: Two Birds, One Stone? Two-Timer Heiress Can’t Let Go of Old Flame.”

My pulse pounded as the anchor’s voice dripped with feigned sympathy and scandalous delight.

“Just days before her grand wedding with Leandro Monteverde,” the woman said smoothly, “Victoria Hale has been spotted with none other than Brendon Urie, heir to the Urie fortune. Sources claim the two shared an intimate dinner, sparking rumors that Victoria may be stringing both men along. Is this the biggest society betrayal of the year?”

My hands trembled so violently I almost dropped the remote.

I clenched my teeth. “It’s not true.”

“Then come home. Now.”

Reluctantly, I did.

The moment I stepped inside, another slap greeted me.

Lillian’s hand. Again.

But this time, Father’s hand caught her wrist midair. “Enough! We can’t solve this with violence.”

Lillian huffed, but obeyed, hiding her smirk behind downcast eyes.

“What’s happening here?” Father demanded.

“It’s not me!” I cried. “I don’t know who’s spreading this rumor, but I’ve done nothing wrong. Maybe someone is trying to ruin this wedding.”

“This is why you’re unfit for the Urie family,” Lillian said sweetly. “It should have been Abby marrying him, not you.”

Father stilled. Then, slowly, he nodded. “Maybe that’s not a bad idea.”

I blinked. “What?”

“Abby marrying Leandro. It would solve everything. The scandal would disappear. And if you admit you have feelings for Brendon, we can still merge with him instead. Hitting two birds in one stone, after all, Brendon is also an heir.”

For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. He was serious.

Abby shook her head quickly, wringing her hands. “No, Father… I can’t. They’re in love. I don’t want to ruin their happiness. I would never want Victoria to hate me because I will be marrying Leandro.”

Fake. All fake.

But Father cut her off. “No. That’s final. Abby will marry Leandro. It’s settled. I’ll talk to his parents and they’ll surely agree after this scandal.”

My lips parted. For once, I didn’t argue. I didn’t need to. Because for the first time, I actually liked the idea.

Let Abby have him. Let her rot in the hell I had barely escaped.

That night, I sent a message to Brendon.

You didn’t believe him, did you?

Brendon’s reply came instantly. Of course I didn’t. Since you no longer have a wedding with him… I’ll see you soon.

I hesitated, then typed again.

Can you do me another favor? Help me fake my death.