POV: Elise Carter
They say your life flashes before your eyes when you die.
They lied.
All I saw was blood. Mine—warm, thick, and pooling on cold marble floors.
I remember the sharp metallic tang filling my mouth. The footsteps that walked away, not toward me. And the voice—her voice—ringing in my ears.
"Oh, Elise. You always were too soft."
Tiffany Carter. My stepsister. The girl I once called family. The girl I would have died for. And, apparently, the girl I did die for.
I remember Liam's face too. My fiancé. The man who had promised to love me in sickness and in health. He kissed her before my eyes closed.
Their laughter was the last thing I heard.
The world faded after that—darkness swallowing me whole.
But then… I opened my eyes again.
And I was in my old bedroom.
Not the penthouse I had shared with Liam. Not the private hospital where I had spent my final moments as whispers of betrayal echoed through sterile halls.
No. I was back in my parents' estate—surrounded by pink wallpaper and that damn porcelain ballerina lamp I had hated since college.
At first, I thought I was in some twisted purgatory.
But then I saw the calendar.
Five years ago.
Five. Whole. Years.
The engagement party hadn't happened. The merger deal with Blackwell Corp wasn't even on the table yet. Liam hadn't proposed. Tiffany hadn't smiled sweetly with a dagger hidden behind her back.
I was alive.
I was back.
And this time, I wasn't going to die crying on the floor.
I stared at myself in the mirror, half-expecting to see the scar on my collarbone—the one from when Tiffany "accidentally" pushed me into the fireplace poker during a family Christmas. But there was nothing. Smooth, unblemished skin. My hair hadn't been dyed yet; it was still its natural raven-black, not the soft brown Liam liked better.
For a long moment, I just stared. My reflection stared back, younger and more fragile than I remembered. But inside, something had shifted.
No more sweet Elise. No more trusting smiles and second chances.
I touched the mirror.
"I'm taking everything back," I whispered.
The first move had to be precise. Strategic. Like a chess game—and I had five years of painful knowledge stored like a weapon.
Step one: Don't accept Liam's proposal.
Step two: Stop the Blackwell-Carter merger before Tiffany gets her claws into Adrian.
Step three: Seduce Adrian Blackwell before she does.
He was cold, calculating, and ruthless—but not invincible. I had seen his cracks, his weaknesses. I had watched him destroy my family from afar while pretending to be a friend. But this time, I'd be close enough to strike first.
If I had to kiss the devil to light the fire, so be it.
"Good morning, sweetheart," my mother cooed as I entered the dining room. She wore her usual pearls and a scent of expensive regret. Her eyes lit up when she saw me—like they always did. Before she signed the family fortune over to Tiffany. Before she died thinking I was a disappointment.
"Elise, darling, don't forget your appointment at Atelier Row for the engagement dress fitting. Tiffany booked it already."
I blinked. Already? It was starting.
"I'm not going," I said flatly, buttering a piece of toast.
My mother's smile faltered. "What do you mean? Liam's been planning this for weeks. You don't want to upset him."
No, I thought. But he certainly wanted to kill me.
"I said I'm not going," I repeated, louder this time. "Tell Tiffany to wear the white dress. She'll need it soon enough."
My mother paled, but I didn't stay to soothe her. I had coddled everyone too long in my past life. Now, I was done pretending.
I called Liam next.
"Elise, babe! I was just—"
"We're done."
Silence.
Then, a laugh. "Come on, what are you talking about? I've already sent the invites—"
"Then un-send them," I snapped. "And while you're at it, tell Tiffany I hope she chokes on that champagne she ordered behind my back."
"You're being irrational."
"No, Liam. I'm being reborn."
I hung up before he could answer. My fingers trembled as I lowered the phone, not with fear—but exhilaration. It felt good. So good to slam the door before he could lock it.
One snake down. Two to go.
Now, for the king.
Adrian Blackwell was known in the business world as the Ice King. Billionaire. Tech mogul. Heartbreaker. At least, that's what the tabloids called him. But I knew better. I had met him at the engagement gala five years ago—Tiffany's gala, that is.
He was the first man who ever looked through me like I didn't exist.
Good. That made him predictable.
And men like him? They fell the hardest.
I put on the dress Tiffany had once picked out for me—the one she had secretly worn behind my back to seduce Adrian during the merger. I adjusted the neckline, tied my hair in a low knot, and slid into the luxury town car I remembered Adrian sent when he wanted to impress a woman.
But I beat him to it this time.
"Blackwell Industries," I told the driver. "Penthouse."
My eyes burned with determination as the car pulled onto the highway.
I was no longer Elise Carter, the victim.
I was the woman he would never see coming.
And this time?
I was going to ruin the billionaire.