Chapter 2

The first light of dawn was filtering through the heavy curtains when I woke.

Ethan was still asleep beside me, his face relaxed, younger than I remembered. The lines of stress that had been etched around his eyes in my memories were fainter now.

A wave of tenderness washed over me. I reached out, gently brushing a strand of dark hair from his forehead.

He stirred, his eyes fluttering open.

For a moment, there was a soft, unguarded look in them as he focused on me. Then, it vanished.

Replaced by a chilling coldness.

He sat up abruptly, pulling away from my touch as if it burned him.

"What happened last night?" he asked, his voice flat, devoid of any warmth.

Disappointment, sharp and bitter, pierced through me. I'd hoped... I don't know what I'd hoped. That the intimacy we'd shared would magically erase the past?

"You weren't well," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I took care of you."

He looked around the unfamiliar hotel suite, then back at me, his eyes narrowed. "Took care of me?"

A flicker of something – pain? suspicion? – crossed his face before his mask of indifference slammed back down.

"I see," he said, standing up, his movements stiff. He walked towards the window, his back to me.

"Ethan," I began, wanting to explain, to tell him about my regret, about this impossible second chance.

But the words died in my throat. How could I even begin?

He turned, his expression unreadable. "I think it's best we discuss a divorce, Olivia."

The words hit me like a physical blow. Divorce? Now? After... after everything?

"What?" I whispered, stunned.

"I don't love you," he stated, each word a carefully aimed dart. "This marriage was a mistake. A business arrangement. Nothing more."

His eyes were cold, distant. This wasn't the Ethan from the journal, the Ethan whose hidden love had overwhelmed me. This was a stranger.

Or perhaps, this was the Ethan I had created in our first life. Hurt. Wary.

"But last night..." I faltered.

"Last night was a lapse in judgment," he cut in, his tone dismissive. "Likely due to whatever... ailment I was suffering from. It changes nothing."

He walked to the door. "I'll have my lawyer contact yours."

And then he was gone.

The silence in the room was deafening.

My heart ached with a pain so intense it stole my breath. He was reborn too. He had to be. That coldness, that immediate talk of divorce... it was the only explanation. He remembered my cruelty, my abandonment.

And he hated me for it.

Tears welled in my eyes, hot and stinging. I had been so arrogant in my first life, so sure of my own desires, so blind to his. Now, the tables were turned. I wanted him, and he was pushing me away.

The irony wasn't lost on me.

I had to make him understand. I had to prove to him that I had changed.

Later that day, I tried to talk to my father, Robert Miller.

"Dad, we need to be careful," I said, finding him in his study at our New York townhouse. "Harrison Corporation is planning something. I... I have a bad feeling."

He looked up from his papers, his expression one of mild surprise. "A bad feeling, Olivia? Since when are you interested in the intricacies of corporate finance?"

His tone was patronizing. In my first life, I'd shown no interest in Miller Industries beyond the allowance it provided.

"I just think we need to be vigilant," I insisted. "They might try a hostile takeover, or plant a mole."

He chuckled. "Olivia, dear, leave the business to me and Ethan. He's a brilliant lad. He'll handle anything Harrison throws at us." He patted my hand. "You just focus on... well, whatever it is you focus on these days."

Frustration churned within me. He wouldn't listen. Just like before.

I tried calling Ethan later that evening. His phone rang endlessly, then went to voicemail.

I left a message. "Ethan, please. We need to talk. I know I hurt you. I was awful. But I've changed. I want to make things right. I... I want this marriage."

My voice cracked on the last few words.

He didn't call back.

The next day, I saw him briefly at the Miller Industries headquarters. He was walking out as I was walking in.

He saw me. His eyes, cold and distant, flickered over me without a hint of recognition, then he turned and strode away, leaving me standing alone in the bustling lobby.

The rejection was a fresh wave of pain.

I called him again that night.

This time, he answered.

"What do you want, Olivia?" His voice was like ice.

"Ethan, please," I begged. "Just listen to me. I know why you're doing this. You remember, don't you? You remember everything."

Silence. Then, a humorless laugh. "Remember what, Olivia? Your little tantrums? Your affairs? Your demand for a divorce so you could run off with Liam Walker? Oh yes, I remember those things quite clearly."

"I was wrong!" I cried. "I was a fool! I regret it all. I love you, Ethan. I know that now."

"Love?" He scoffed. "You don't know the meaning of the word. You just don't like being on the receiving end for a change."

"That's not true!"

"Isn't it? You expect me to believe this sudden transformation? After everything you put me through?"

"I can prove it!"

"Save your breath, Olivia," he said, his voice hardening. "I've already instructed my lawyer to draw up the papers. You'll get what you always wanted."

And he hung up.

Tears streamed down my face. He was so hurt, so deeply wounded by my past actions. The wall he'd built around his heart was a fortress of ice, and I, in my previous life, had been the one to freeze it solid.

It would take more than a few words, more than one night, to melt it.

It would take everything I had. And I didn't even know if it would be enough.