Chapter 1

A pact sealed by my father' s death dictated that on my twenty-second birthday, I would marry a Kline and crown the next CEO. For years, I chased Brett Kline, convinced my unrequited love would eventually win his heart.

But at my birthday party, he gave the bracelet meant for me to my stepsister, Juliana, right in front of everyone.

"Get used to it, Faith," he sneered. "I'm about to be CEO. I can't be tied down to just one woman."

He called me shameless and vicious, a disgrace to my family name. He humiliated me, cheated on me with Juliana, and demanded I accept his affairs if I wanted to be his wife.

His cruelty escalated until he slapped me in public and even tried to stab me on my wedding day.

In my last life, this blind devotion led to a miserable marriage. He slowly poisoned me, and I died alone while he lived happily with my stepsister.

But when I opened my eyes again, I was back at that party, just moments before he was about to give my gift away.

This time, I knew the truth. And I knew I wouldn't be choosing him.

Chapter 1

Faith Cain POV:

The pact, signed in ink and sealed by my father' s death, felt more like a sentence than a promise. It dictated that on my twenty-second birthday, I would marry a Kline, and in doing so, crown the next CEO of Kline Innovations.

I had just left Ferdinand Kline' s study, the heavy oak door clicking shut behind me, the weight of his words settling on my shoulders. The air in the grand hallway was thick with the scent of old money and entitlement.

As I turned the corner, I ran straight into the one person I had hoped to avoid. Brett Kline. And he wasn't alone. A gaggle of his cousins and younger relatives surrounded him, laughing at something he' d said.

They saw me and the laughter died. The group parted like the Red Sea, leaving Brett standing there, a perfect picture of arrogance in a tailored suit.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in," one of the cousins, a sharp-featured girl named Zara, sneered.

Her friend giggled. "Still chasing after Brett, Faith? Don't you ever get tired?"

"It's a wonder she has the nerve to show her face," another muttered, loud enough for me to hear. "After all the stunts she's pulled."

They always brought up my father, the legendary co-founder, as if his ghost were a shield they could use to shame me.

"Her father would be turning in his grave if he saw how she acts," Zara said, her voice dripping with false pity. "So desperate. It's a disgrace to the Cain name."

Through it all, Brett just watched me, his blue eyes as cold and unforgiving as a winter sky. He let their words hang in the air, each one a small, sharp stone thrown in my direction. In my last life, their words would have been daggers. Now, they were just noise.

"What are you doing here, Faith?" Brett' s voice cut through the whispers, sharp and impatient.

He took a step forward, his gaze sweeping over me with disdain.

"Let me guess," he said, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. "You were in with my father, weren't you? Trying to get him on your side."

He gestured vaguely back toward the study. "You know, this whole 'daughter of the fallen partner' story is getting old. You've milked it for everything it's worth."

His words were meant to sting, to make me feel small and pathetic. He thought he was stripping away my dignity.

"You've been playing this game for years," he continued, his voice low and menacing. "But it's over. You've embarrassed me, you've embarrassed yourself."

He looked around at his audience of smirking relatives. "Everyone in this city is talking about us. About how you won't leave me alone. I'm starting to have second thoughts about this whole marriage thing."

He leaned in closer, his cologne invading my space. "And just so we're clear, running to my father won't change my mind. Nothing you do will."

His eyes, filled with a familiar contempt, held mine. It was the same look he' d given me a thousand times in our miserable marriage, the look that preceded every betrayal, every lie. It was the look that told me I was nothing to him.

I remembered the unrequited love of my past life, a love so blind it had led me to my death. The memory was a cold knot in my stomach.

I took a slow, deliberate breath, steadying myself. The Faith he remembered would have crumbled. She would have pleaded, her eyes filling with tears.

But she was dead.

"You're mistaken, Brett," I said, my voice surprisingly calm and even.

I met his gaze without flinching.

"I wasn't trying to get Ferdinand on my side. He's the one who invited me."

I let that sink in for a moment before delivering the final blow.

"He's throwing a party for my twenty-second birthday. Here. At the estate."

The silence that followed was absolute. The smirks on the faces of his cousins froze, replaced by slack-jawed disbelief.

"A party?" Zara stammered. "Here? Ferdinand is hosting it?"

They couldn't believe it, and I understood why. Ferdinand Kline was a recluse. He hadn't personally involved himself in family social affairs for years, not since his wife passed away. His presence was reserved for the boardroom and the highest echelons of the corporate world.

For him to host a birthday party was more than just a gesture. It was a statement.

It was the signal that the pact my father made with him was about to come to fruition. The promise that on my twenty-second birthday, I would choose one of his sons to be my husband. My choice would not only determine my future, but also who would inherit the controlling shares of Kline Innovations and become its new CEO.

The stakes were astronomical.

A slow, mocking smile spread across Zara' s face as she turned to Brett.

"Well, well," she purred, "congratulations, cousin."

The others chimed in, their tones syrupy with feigned admiration. "Looks like you're about to be in charge, Brett."

"She finally got you."

Brett' s expression shifted from confusion to smug certainty. He looked at me, a triumphant glint in his eyes, as if I had just handed him a crown.

"Congratulations, Faith," he said, his voice laced with condescending victory. "You finally got what you always wanted."

He stepped closer, his arrogant gaze raking over me. He lowered his voice to a whisper, meant only for me.

"But don't think this changes anything," he hissed. "I hope you don't make the same mistakes you did last time."

The mention of a "last time" sent a chill down my spine. Did he remember too?

"If we're going to be married," he continued, his tone turning into a list of demands, "there are conditions. We will live in separate wings of the house. You will not interfere in my personal affairs. And you will not question where I go or who I'm with. Those are my terms. Take them or leave them."

I was so stunned by his audacity, by the echo of our past life in his words, that I almost missed the soft voice calling his name.

"Brett?"

A young woman stepped into the hallway. It was Juliana Thompson, my stepsister. She was dressed in a simple white dress that made her look innocent and fragile, her long hair falling in soft waves around her shoulders. She clutched her arm, a pained expression on her face.

Brett' s demeanor changed in an instant. The cold, calculating man who had just delivered an ultimatum vanished, replaced by a worried suitor.

"Juliana? What are you doing out of bed? You're not well." He rushed to her side, his voice laced with a tenderness he had never once shown me.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, leaning against him weakly. "My father insisted I come. He said... he said I should be here."

He took her hand, his touch gentle. "It's fine. You're here now."

Then, his gaze flickered back to me, and the coldness returned, sharper than before.

"Look at you," he sneered, his eyes filled with disgust. "You're perfectly healthy, but you still need an entourage. Juliana is running a fever, and she managed to get here on her own."

He wrapped a protective arm around her, pulling her away as if I were a contagion.

As they walked down the hall, he glanced back over his shoulder.

"Don't forget what I said, Faith," he warned, his voice a low threat. "Behave yourself. If you keep acting like this, I won't marry you."

A laugh, silent and bitter, rose in my throat.

Oh, Brett.

If only you knew how badly I want that to be true.

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