Chapter 3

Julius Hansen shot up in bed, his chest heaving as if he'd just surfaced from a deep, dark ocean.

Cold sweat beaded on his forehead. The last thing he remembered was the suffocating emptiness of his penthouse, the scent of Candice Luna's perfume still clinging to the furniture like a disease. He remembered the weight of the wedding ring on his finger, a shackle binding him to a woman who had systematically destroyed his life to possess him.

He remembered Amina's face, streaked with tears, as she walked away from him for the last time.

"You chose this, Julius," she had said. "You chose her empire over our love."

The memory was a physical pain, a phantom limb that ached with a loss so profound it had hollowed him out.

He gripped the edge of the mattress, his knuckles white. The hatred he felt for Candice Luna was a living thing, a fire in his blood.

A private nurse rushed into the room, her eyes wide with alarm. "Mr. Hansen, you need to lie back down. You've been in an accident."

He batted her hand away, his gaze sweeping the room, sharp and assessing. "Where am I? What's the date?" His voice was a low growl.

The nurse, intimidated, stammered the name of the hospital and the current date.

Julius froze.

He looked at the calendar on the wall, then at his own hands. No wedding ring. No faint scar on his palm from where he'd punched a wall in a fit of despair.

A wild, incredulous joy surged through him. He was back. He was back before the forced engagement, before he'd lost Amina, before Candice had sunk her claws into him and his family.

He tried to sit up fully, but a wave of dizziness and a sharp pain behind his eyes forced him back against the pillows. He took a steadying breath, the physical discomfort a dull echo compared to the psychological torment he'd just escaped. He grabbed his phone from the bedside table, his fingers shaking so badly he could barely unlock it. He had to hear her voice. He had to know she was safe.

"Sir, you really shouldn't be using your phone," the nurse began, but a single, withering glare from Julius silenced her.

He found Amina's number and pressed call. It rang twice before she answered.

"Julius?" Her voice. It was warm, real, not a figment of his tortured memory. It was the sound of his salvation.

His throat closed up. He couldn't speak.

"Julius, are you there? Is everything okay?"

He cleared his throat, forcing the words out. "I'm fine, Amina. Just... wanted to make sure you were safe." He ended the call before he could break down completely.

She was still there. He hadn't lost her yet.

And he would burn the world to the ground before he let Candice Luna take her from him again.

Just then, the door to his room burst open. His personal assistant rushed in, his hair disheveled and his suit jacket damp. He looked both furious and humiliated.

"Sir," the assistant sputtered, "that woman, Candice Luna-she's completely unhinged!"

Julius's eyes narrowed. "What's the status on the Luna merger? And how is she?" he asked, his voice dripping with disdain.

The assistant recounted the humiliating encounter, from the thrown water to the smashed roses.

Julius didn't get angry. He let out a short, sharp laugh. It was a cold, mirthless sound.

"So, she's starting her games already," he murmured to himself. He remembered this from his past life. The calculated tantrums, the feigned vulnerability. Candice Luna was a master manipulator, playing the victim while she moved her chess pieces across the board. This time, he wouldn't fall for it.

"Ignore her," Julius commanded his assistant. "Send Vance, the lawyer. I want the merger documents pushed through. I want her legally boxed in before she can make another move."

"Sir, she seemed... genuinely unstable," the assistant offered timidly.

"It's an act," Julius snapped, his patience gone. "She's an actress, and a damn good one. Do as I say."

He swung his legs out of bed and walked to the window, pulling back the curtains. Sunlight streamed in, glinting off the glass and steel of the Manhattan skyline. He could see the Luna Group tower from here.

This time, he would be the predator. He would protect Amina, and he would take back control of his own life.

His phone buzzed. It was General Morrison, an old friend of his father's from his military days.

"Heard you took a spill, son. You alright?"

"I'll live," Julius said curtly. "Listen, I might be making some aggressive moves in the coming weeks. I may need enhanced security. Someone discreet, the best you know."

"I've got just the man," Morrison said without hesitation. "Brandon Castro. Ex-Delta. Runs his own private firm now. The man's a ghost. I'll send you his contact."

Julius grunted his thanks. He'd take every advantage he could get.

Just then, Arthur Vance appeared at the door. "Mr. Hansen. I tried to see Miss Luna. She refused to open the door. Barricaded it from the inside."

Julius's eyes narrowed. The game was more intricate this time. She was playing hard to get, trying to make him chase her, to make him want the prize.

A slow, cold smile spread across his lips.

"Let her hide," he said, his voice dangerously soft. "Tomorrow, I'll go over there myself. And I will tear her pathetic little mask right off her face."

He lay back in bed, closing his eyes. He pictured Amina's smile, the one true and good thing in his life. She was his lighthouse.

And as for the woman in the room down the hall, the manipulative viper who had ruined him once before?

He felt nothing but cold, calculating disgust. And the unshakeable certainty that this time, he would win.