My Revenge, My True Love

Julian Croft's career was on the brink. My father, General Vance, offered a solution: Julian would marry me.

I remembered that deal.

In my first life, I accepted it, blinded by stupid love. Julian smiled, handed me champagne, and then orchestrated a scandal that framed my father for treason.

My father died in prison. My family was ruined. And I died alone, hit by a car, a ghost in my own life.

The memory of the cold pavement against my cheek was still fresh. The hatred was a physical thing, a solid weight in my chest. He destroyed everything simply for access and power.

But I was back. Before my father could speak, I stepped forward.

"No," I said. "Julian Croft is not good enough to marry into the Vance family."

Then, to everyone's shock, I walked straight to our quiet mechanic, Leo Martinez, a former Army Ranger who worked for our family.

"Leo Martinez," I declared, "I want to marry you. Will you accept?"

This time, my choice would rewrite history. My revenge would consume them all.

The day Julian Croft' s career was supposed to die was a Tuesday.

His parents, the Crofts, stood in our living room, their faces pale and streaked with tears. Mrs. Croft was practically on her knees, her hands clutching at my father' s pant leg.

"General Vance, please, you have to help him," she begged, her voice a raw whisper. "This scandal will destroy him. Everything he' s worked for will be gone."

My father, General Vance, a man who commanded armies and advised presidents, looked down at her with a hard, unreadable expression. His gaze then shifted to me, standing silently by the fireplace.

He knew. Of course, he knew about my pathetic, years-long obsession with Julian. The whole of D.C. society knew.

"I can make this problem disappear," my father said, his voice a low rumble that filled the cavernous room. "But there is a price."

He looked from Julian' s parents back to me. "Julian will marry my daughter, Clara. He will leave politics and work for me. That is my deal."

The room went cold.

It was the exact same deal from my first life. The same words, the same suffocating offer.

I remembered accepting it with a heart full of stupid, blind love. I remembered our wedding night. Julian had smiled at me, handed me a glass of champagne, and told me our future was just beginning.

I woke up naked in a hotel room with another man, cameras flashing in my face. The headlines screamed about the General' s depraved daughter. Julian used the scandal he created to frame my father for treason, leaking falsified documents that suggested my father sold secrets to protect me from my "shame."

My family was ruined. My father died in prison. And I died alone, hit by a car as I wandered the streets, a ghost in my own life.

But now, I was back.

Before my father could say another word, before the Crofts could weep their grateful acceptance, I stepped forward.

The memory of the cold pavement against my cheek as I bled out was still fresh. The hatred was a physical thing, a solid weight in my chest.

"No."

My voice was quiet, but it cut through the room like a blade. Everyone stared at me. My father' s brow furrowed in confusion.

"Clara?"

I looked directly at the Crofts, my expression empty of all the love they had relied on for so long.

"He' s not good enough," I said, my voice flat. "Julian Croft is not good enough to marry into the Vance family."

Mrs. Croft gasped. "Clara, dear, what are you saying? You love Julian! Everyone knows you do!"

"I did," I corrected her, a cold smile touching my lips. "But I' m no longer interested."

To prove my point, I turned and walked across the polished marble floor, my heels clicking with each determined step. I walked past the expensive furniture, past the priceless art, and stopped in front of the open garage door where the mechanics were servicing one of our armored SUVs.

Leo Martinez was bent over the engine, his hands covered in grease, his dark hair damp with sweat. He was a former Army Ranger who worked for our family' s private security firm. In my past life, he had been the one to find my body on the street.

I stopped in front of him. He looked up, his brown eyes widening in surprise.

"Clara?"

In front of my father, in front of Julian' s begging parents, I made my new choice.

"Leo Martinez," I said, my voice clear and steady. "I want to marry you. Will you accept?"

The silence in the room was absolute.

Leo stared at me, his knuckles white where he gripped a wrench. His face, usually calm and unreadable, was a mask of shock. He had loved me for years, a silent, hopeless kind of love I had been too blind to see in my first life.

Now, it was the only thing that felt real.

"Yes," he said, his voice rough but firm. He didn' t hesitate. He didn' t ask why. He just said yes.

My father' s expression shifted from confusion to a slow, dawning understanding. He had always trusted my instincts, even when they led me to Julian. Now, seeing the conviction in my eyes, he trusted me again.

"The engagement is on," my father announced, his voice booming with finality. He turned to the stunned Crofts. "You have your answer. Now leave my house."

They were ushered out, their faces a mixture of disbelief and fury.

Two days later, Julian Croft himself appeared at our gate. He had somehow wriggled out of his scandal without my father' s help. He was furious, his handsome face twisted with arrogance.

He stormed into the garden where I was reading, grabbing my arm.

"What kind of game are you playing, Clara?" he snarled.

Before I could answer, Leo was there. He moved with the quiet speed of a predator, his large frame blocking Julian' s path. He didn' t say a word, just placed a firm hand on Julian' s shoulder and pushed him back. The message was clear.

Julian scoffed, brushing off his suit jacket as if Leo had contaminated it.

"You' re really going through with this? For a grease monkey?" He looked Leo up and down with contempt. "I know you' re just trying to make me jealous. It' s pathetic, but it' s worked. I' m here."

He turned his attention back to me, his eyes gleaming with a possessive light.

"I can' t marry you now, not with Isabelle in the picture. But you can be my mistress. I' ll take good care of you. It' s more than he could ever give you."

The mention of Isabelle Thorne, the oligarch' s daughter, sent a shiver of cold rage through me. He had been with her in the first life, too. He had always been with her.

"I am not interested in you, Julian," I said, my voice bored. "Not as a wife, not as a mistress. Not as anything."

He laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. "Don' t lie, Clara."

He pulled a small, wrapped box from his pocket. "A gift. To show you I' m serious."

He placed it on the table. It was a first-edition, signed copy of "The Great Gatsby." In my first life, I had cried when he gave it to me, thinking it was the most romantic gesture in the world.

Now, I looked at it and felt nothing but disgust. I stood up and let the book slide off the table, landing with a soft thud on the grass.

"Get out of my house," I said.

His face tightened. "You' ll regret this."

"No," I said, looking at Leo, who stood like a silent, unmovable wall beside me. "I won' t."

Julian finally left, his pride wounded.

Later that day, Leo came to say goodbye. He was leaving for a month to compete in the Best Ranger Competition.

"I have to go," he said, his expression serious. "But I want you to have this. For safekeeping."

He pressed something small and heavy into my palm. It was a ring. A man' s signet ring, old and worn, with a unique, intricate crest carved into the flat gold surface.

"It was my father' s," he said. "It' s all I have of him."

I closed my hand around it, the metal warm against my skin. "I' ll keep it safe, Leo."

He nodded, his eyes full of a promise that needed no words.