Chapter 1

My 25th birthday. A milestone. More like a tombstone, considering my last life. The air in the Winston estate ballroom felt heavy, thick with unspoken expectations. Chandeliers dripped crystals, champagne flowed, but to me, it all felt like a gilded cage I'd just escaped.

Grandpa William, Chairman of Winston Media Group, found me near the towering floral arrangements. His eyes, usually sharp with business acumen, held a rare softness.

"Emily, my dear."

He cleared his throat.

"Arthur Hawke and I have been talking. It's about time we solidified the alliance between WMG and Hawke Energy. The families, you know."

He paused, his gaze searching mine.

"So, the question is, which of Arthur's grandsons are you leaning towards? Ethan, of course, has always been the frontrunner in everyone's mind."

I met his gaze, my resolve a steel rod down my spine.

"Actually, Grandpa, I was thinking of Noah Carter."

A stunned silence fell between us. Even the distant chatter of the party seemed to dim. Grandpa William's eyebrows shot up, his carefully composed expression cracking.

"Noah Carter?" he finally managed, disbelief lacing his tone. "Arthur's other grandson? The quiet one?"

The entire New York elite knew Emily Winston, heiress to WMG, was supposedly head-over-heels for Ethan Hawke, the charismatic, if ruthless, heir to Hawke Energy. It was a match made in corporate heaven, or so everyone thought.

In my previous life, I *had* married Ethan. The dream wedding, the society pages filled with our pictures. It lasted all of three months.

That's when I found him. With Sophia Bell, my father's illegitimate daughter, the girl my family had taken in. In our marital bed.

Ethan had cried, real tears streaming down his handsome face. He'd knelt, begging.

"Emily, please. It was a mistake. A terrible, one-time mistake. Forgive me."

My heart, foolish and soft, had wavered. But Grandpa William found out. He had Sophia quietly shipped off to a "special school" in Europe. Ethan, convinced I was the puppet master behind her exile, never forgave me. His resentment became a corrosive acid, eating away at our already fractured marriage.

The years that followed were a blur of escalating disasters. Key WMG executives defected to competitors. Our market strategies were consistently leaked, anticipated. Confidential company files, vital to our survival, vanished. Grandpa's health declined under the stress. My mother, always frail, withered. One by one, my protectors, my family, were gone.

And me? I died on a rain-slicked street, hit by a truck that never stopped. The same day the doctor confirmed my pregnancy.

The universe had a sick sense of humor.

So yes, this time, I was choosing Noah Carter. I would rewrite my story. I would protect my family, my legacy.

But as I scanned the opulent ballroom, a cold dread snaked around my heart. There, holding court with a group of fawning socialites, was Ethan Hawke. He looked exactly as he had, impeccably dressed in a Tom Ford suit, exuding an aura of effortless superiority.

He turned, his eyes locking onto mine. For a split second, I saw something flicker in their depths-not just surprise, but a chilling, stark recognition. He remembered. He had been reborn too.

My blood ran cold. This changed everything.

I quickly excused myself from Grandpa, needing a moment to process. As I moved through the crowd, I felt Ethan's gaze burning into my back.

I found a quiet alcove, trying to steady my breathing. If Ethan remembered, he'd expect me to fall at his feet, just like before. He'd expect the merger, the marriage, everything to proceed as *he* planned.

A voice drawled from behind me, dripping with condescension.

"Well, well. Look who it is."

I turned. Ethan stood there, a smirk playing on his lips. His friends, a pack of sycophantic trust-fund babies, flanked him.

One of them, Chad, nudged Ethan. "Hey, E, there's your little shadow. Your ever-faithful puppy."

Ethan's eyes raked over me, a flicker of disappointment in them.

"Emily. What are you doing skulking in the corners? Not like you."

If this were my past life, I'd be rushing to his side, smoothing his lapels, asking if he needed anything, desperately seeking his approval.

But the image of a speeding truck, the crushing impact, the life seeping out of me – it was seared into my memory.

I kept my voice level, cold.

"It's my birthday party, Ethan. I believe I'm allowed to be here."

His eyes narrowed, the smirk vanishing. He sensed the shift, the ice in my tone.

"What's with the attitude, Emily?" he snapped, his voice rising. "Don't tell me you're actually mad I'm a little late? I'm doing you a favor gracing this party with my presence."

He stepped closer, lowering his voice to a menacing hiss.

"And don't think running to your grandfather changes anything. Our marriage is happening. It's inevitable."

Chad chimed in, eager to curry favor. "Yeah, Emily. What's your problem? Apologize to Ethan. If you weren't constantly throwing yourself at him, he wouldn't even give you the time of day."

I almost laughed. The sheer audacity.

"This is my event," I stated, my voice carrying a new authority. "If anyone is uncomfortable, the exits are clearly marked. As for my marriage, that will be announced at Grandpa William's 75th birthday gala next month. It has nothing to do with you, Ethan. So don't trouble yourself over it."

I had every intention of marrying Noah Carter, but I hadn't spoken to him yet. I couldn't announce it definitively here, not yet.