Chapter 1

The call came on a Tuesday. I was reviewing catering proposals for a Hayes Hotels charity event.

The display showed Ethan' s private number. My breath caught.

"Mia," his voice was flat, no warmth. "Bella Vance had a skiing accident in Aspen. It' s bad."

Bella. His current, very public companion.

"She needs a kidney transplant. And a rare blood type for transfusion. Your mother, Sarah, is a match. The only match on any registry we can find quickly."

My mother. The words hit me like a physical blow.

"We're flying to Aspen now. Be ready." He didn't ask. He told.

The line went dead.

My hands shook. Mom, with her own delicate health. For Bella?

Ethan' s private jet cut through the sky. I sat numbly, staring out at the clouds.

Aspen was a blur of snow and hushed, urgent voices.

At the exclusive clinic, Ethan was already there, a grim statue in the pristine white corridor.

"She' s prepped," he said, not looking at me. "Your mother is being admitted."

"Ethan, please," I begged, my voice trembling. "Mom isn't strong enough for this. There has to be another way. Another donor, someone else..."

He finally turned, his eyes like chips of ice. "There isn't. Hayes Hotels is leveraged to the hilt, Mia. One call from me, and it collapses. Your father understands. Sarah understands."

He meant he controlled our lifeline. He would pull it if I, or Mom, resisted.

"She 'volunteered'," Ethan said, the word a sneer. "Don't make this harder."

I knelt, right there on the cold marble floor. "Please, Ethan. I'll do anything. Just not her."

He gestured. Two stern-faced men in suits, his security, gently but firmly lifted me.

They escorted me to a small, luxurious room. The door clicked shut with a soft, final sound. A security room. I was locked in while my mother was taken for surgery.

Hours later, the door opened. Ethan stood there, his face unreadable.

"The surgery was successful. Bella is stable. Your mother is stable."

Relief, sharp and painful, lanced through me. Then the coldness of his delivery settled in.

"Why are you doing this?" I whispered, tears finally escaping. "You... you used to..."

I remembered a different Ethan. An Ethan who cherished me, whose eyes held only love for me. An Ethan from a life before.

He scoffed, a harsh, ugly sound. "This is a business arrangement, Amelia. I never loved you. Not then, not now."

The words were a deliberate, cruel incision.

My mind fractured.

Suddenly, I wasn't just in Aspen. I was falling, the wind screaming past me, the jagged rocks of a cliff face rushing up. Julian Vance, my charismatic childhood friend, his face a mask of greed and madness. Ethan, his empire crumbling, his face a ruin of pain, all for me. My hand, reaching for the pills, the only way to stop Ethan's suffering, to stop Julian.

No, no, not again.

I had died. I knew it. And then I was back, reborn into the first year of my marriage to Ethan, the marriage I'd despised, the man I'd destroyed.

This time, I' d sworn, would be different. I would cherish him. I would atone.

But this Ethan... this cold, cruel stranger...

He was watching me, his expression unyielding. "Bella needs rest. I'll be with her."

He turned to leave.

The hope I' d clung to since my rebirth, the hope of his love, shriveled.

If this was how he would be, if the devotion I remembered was truly gone, replaced by this icy disdain and a new love for Bella, then I couldn't stay.

The thought, sudden and sharp, pierced through my despair: I have to leave him. I have to get a divorce.

My father, David Hayes, arrived the next morning, his face etched with worry. He found me staring blankly at the snow-covered peaks outside my window.

"Mia, honey, are you okay?" He hugged me tightly. "Your mother is awake. Asking for you. But... what's going on with Ethan? He' s like a different person. So cold. He barely acknowledged me."

His confusion mirrored my own turmoil.

"Dad," I said, my voice flat, devoid of emotion. "I can't do this anymore. I'm going to divorce him."

He looked shocked. "Mia, after everything? The business...?"

"The business can't be worth this," I said, a strange calm settling over me. "I'll figure something out. We'll figure something out. But I can't stay married to him."

Later that week, back in New York, still reeling, I was driving myself to my parents' apartment. My fault, a moment of distraction. A minor fender-bender.

The hospital insisted on checking me over. Just a few bruises, a mild concussion.

Ethan appeared briefly at the door of my private room. His lip curled in contempt.

"Trying to get attention, Mia? Mimicking Bella's ordeal?"

My breath hitched. "What? No, it was an accident."

He ignored me. A nurse bustled in with a large, cellophane-wrapped fruit basket.

"From Mr. Cole's office, for you, Mrs. Cole."

As she placed it on the bedside table, Ethan' s eyes narrowed. He moved with sudden speed.

"She can't have that," he snapped at the nurse, his voice sharp. "She's allergic to mangoes. Get it out of here."

The nurse, startled, quickly removed the basket.

Mangoes. My deathly allergy. A fact he' d learned in our first life, after a terrifying incident at a tropical resort he' d taken me to, trying to win me over. A detail no one in this current, brief, loveless marriage would know. My parents hadn't needed to inform him; our marriage was a business deal, not a romance.

My heart hammered against my ribs. I stared at him, stunned.

"Ethan..." I whispered, the words catching in my throat. "Are you... did you also come back?"