Chapter 1

The last thing I remembered from my first life was the cold, damp earth on my knees.

I was kneeling before a grave. Liam' s grave.

Olivia, the woman I married, the woman whose family saved mine from ruin, stood over me. Her beautiful face was a mask of pure hatred.

"This is where you belong, Ethan," she had said, her voice devoid of any warmth. "At his feet."

She promised me that if I gave her a child, an heir, she would finally let go of the past. She would dismiss the countless "muses" she kept around, the men she claimed were for artistic inspiration but were really just a constant torment to me. She swore our child would be the sole heir to her family's immense fortune.

I believed her. I was a fool.

When the doctor announced we were having twins, I was overjoyed. I thought my devotion had finally paid off.

But during the delivery, she deliberately delayed the C-section. She held onto some insane hope that Liam, her dead childhood sweetheart, would somehow return. Her obsession cost our children their lives. The twins were stillborn.

Then she brought me to this grave and had her guards beat me to death. My last sight was her smiling as she looked at the name etched on the tombstone.

And then, I woke up.

The sterile white of a hospital room filled my vision. The rhythmic beeping of a machine echoed in my ears. I felt a phantom ache in my bones, the memory of the beating.

But I was alive.

I looked down at my hands. They were clean, unbruised. I was wearing a simple shirt and pants, not the blood-soaked clothes I died in.

Olivia was sitting in a chair by the window, her back to me. She was on the phone.

"I don' t care what the doctor says," she snapped into her phone. "I' m not ready. Delay it. I' ll tell you when."

A cold dread washed over me. I knew this conversation. This was the exact moment. She was on the phone with her assistant, ordering them to stop the doctors from performing the C-section.

This was the day my children were supposed to be born. The day they died.

In my first life, I had rushed to her side. I begged her, pleaded with her to think of the babies. I reminded her of her promise. My desperation only seemed to fuel her resolve.

But this wasn't my first life.

I sat up slowly, the bed creaking under my weight.

Olivia heard the sound and turned around, her phone still pressed to her ear. Her eyes widened slightly in surprise when she saw me awake and so... calm.

"I have to go," she said curtly, and hung up the phone. She placed it on the table beside her and crossed her arms, studying me.

"You' re awake," she stated, not asked.

"Yes," I said. My voice was raspy, but steady.

She waited, expecting me to start pleading. Expecting the panic and the begging. I could see the anticipation in her eyes, the familiar look of someone who enjoyed watching me suffer.

I said nothing. I just looked back at her, my expression completely blank. I felt nothing for her anymore. No love, no hope. Just a vast, empty space where my heart used to be.

This time, I wouldn't try to save them by begging her. Her heart was a stone that could not be moved. This time, I would let fate unfold as it was meant to.

Her brow furrowed. My silence was not part of her script.

"Aren' t you going to say anything?" she asked, a hint of annoyance in her tone. "Don' t you care about your children?"

The words were meant to hurt me, and in another life, they would have shattered me.

Now, they were just noise.

"They are your children too, Olivia," I replied, my voice flat. "It' s your body, your choice. Do whatever you want."

I laid back down on the bed and turned my head to face the wall, a clear dismissal.

I could feel her stare on my back. It was sharp, confused, and for the first time, I felt a flicker of something new in her presence.

Doubt. She didn' t understand my reaction.

This was a new game, and I was no longer playing by her rules.