My Second Chance, His Regret

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.

---

Faith Cain POV:

The night of my birthday party was a blur of champagne, polite smiles, and the suffocating weight of expectation. Brett, true to form, only appeared after most of the elder guests and business associates had departed, with Juliana clinging to his arm.

Her cheeks were flushed, a rosy glow that had nothing to do with a fever. But it was the mark on Brett' s neck that caught my eye, a dark, angry bruise blooming on the side of his neck, just above his collar.

Anyone with eyes could see what they had been doing just moments before arriving.

In my past life, this would have shattered me. I would have dissolved into tears, demanding to know how he could humiliate me like this on my birthday, in front of everyone. I would have screamed, questioning if my years of devotion meant absolutely nothing to him.

Tonight, I simply glanced at the mark, my gaze lingering for only a second before I turned back to the conversation I was having with a distant cousin. I didn't give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

I felt his eyes on me, though. He saw where I had looked. He instinctively shifted, trying to block my view of Juliana, as if to protect her from my judgment.

Seconds ticked by. The explosion he was waiting for never came.

My silence seemed to agitate him more than any outburst could have.

"What's this?" he finally said, striding over to me with a forced, mocking smile. "Playing the part of the magnanimous fiancée? Are you so afraid of losing your chance to marry me that you'll pretend not to see?"

He leaned in, his voice dropping. "Get used to it, Faith. I'm about to become the head of this family, the CEO of Kline Innovations. I can't be tied down to just one woman. There will be many others."

He gave me a condescending pat on the arm. "But since you're being so... understanding tonight, I have a little reward for you."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, velvet box. A gasp rippled through the few remaining guests who were watching the drama unfold.

Just as he was about to hand it to me, a small hand darted out and snatched it from his grasp.

It was Juliana.

"Oh, Brett! Is that the 'Lover's Whisper' bracelet?" she exclaimed, her voice filled with manufactured awe. "It's the limited edition from Cartier! They only made ten in the entire world. I heard it was impossible to get."

Brett' s hand, which had been extended toward me, immediately dropped. A fond smile spread across his face as he looked at her.

"Do you like it?" he asked softly.

Without waiting for an answer, he said, "Then it's yours."

"But... but it's for Faith," Juliana said, her eyes, full of triumphant deceit, locking onto mine. It was a flawless performance of reluctant acceptance.

"Don't be silly," Brett scoffed, waving a dismissive hand in my direction. "I'll just find something else for her. Besides," he added, his voice dripping with condescension, "anything from me is perfect in her eyes, right?"

A few snickers echoed in the room. The humiliation was a familiar, bitter taste in my mouth. Memories flooded back, sharp and painful.

I remembered how I used to treasure everything he gave me, no matter how insignificant. Once, caught in a sudden downpour, he' d casually draped his jacket over my shoulders. It was a thoughtless gesture for him, but for me, it was everything. I kept that jacket for years, hidden away like a sacred relic.

He found it, of course. He found me one night, holding it, breathing in the faint scent of him that still clung to the fabric.

"Shameless," he had spat, his face a mask of disgust.

That single word had crushed the fragile heart of a teenage girl. I had been mortified. Ferdinand had even struck him with his cane for it, yelling that he was talking nonsense, but Brett had just laughed it off.

Later, he turned the story into a joke, exaggerating my pathetic devotion for the amusement of his friends. I quickly became the laughingstock of our social circle.

Looking back on it now, it was all just so pathetic. My love, my devotion, my humiliation.

I turned to leave, the party suddenly feeling suffocating.

"Where are you going?" Brett' s hand clamped down on my arm, stopping me. "What, are you angry? Can't keep up the charade anymore?"

His voice was a low growl. "I always knew you were a vicious woman, Faith."

His grip on my wrist was painfully tight. I looked down at his hand, then back up at his face, my expression unreadable.

With a sharp, sudden movement, I yanked my arm free.

"Brett," I said, my voice dangerously quiet. "Have some respect."

He froze for a second, taken aback by my defiance. Then he sneered. "Respect? Why should I? You've been desperate to marry me since we were kids. Soon we'll be living under the same roof. No need for pretenses."

A cold smile touched my lips. "Who said I was going to marry you?"

The room fell into a stunned silence. For a beat, no one moved, no one breathed.

Then, the silence was broken by a wave of laughter. It started as a chuckle from one of his cousins and quickly spread, until the entire room was laughing at me.

Brett' s own laughter was the loudest. "Who else would you marry, Faith?" he mocked, his eyes glinting with amusement. "You're obsessed with me. We both know it."

He gestured dismissively around the opulent room. "What, are you going to marry him?"

He pointed toward the far side of the ballroom, where his older brother, Kaleb, sat alone, almost hidden in the shadows. He was the only other eligible Kline son.

"My dear brother?" Brett' s voice was laced with pitying contempt. "The brilliant programmer who had a breakdown and hasn't been the same since that little... corporate sabotage incident?"

The room quieted slightly, the guests' eyes shifting uncomfortably toward Kaleb.

"He's always sick, Faith," Brett continued, his voice cruel. "Who knows how long he'll even live. And they say the incident... damaged more than just his nerves." He let the insinuation hang in the air, a vulgar and ugly thing.

He took a step closer to me, his smile turning into a vicious sneer.

"Tell me, Faith," he whispered, his words a final, devastating blow. "Are you really willing to spend the rest of your life with a broken man who can't give you anything?"

---

Faith Cain POV:

The room was silent again, but this time it was a heavy, expectant silence. Every eye was on me, waiting. They were waiting for me to break, to deny it, to run back into Brett' s arms like I always had before.

Just then, a servant, clearly acting on Brett' s cruel cue, pushed Kaleb' s wheelchair into the center of the room. He looked just as Brett had described-pale, thin, confined to the chair. He didn't look up, his gaze fixed on his own hands resting in his lap.

A wave of smug, knowing smiles passed between Brett and his cronies. The trap was set. My humiliation was complete.

I opened my mouth, the words "I choose Kaleb" on the tip of my tongue.

But then I remembered Ferdinand's words from his study earlier that day.

"Faith," he had said, his old eyes sharp and perceptive, "I will respect your choice, no matter who it is. But this family... it is a viper's nest. When you make your announcement, do not do it in anger or haste. Let the dust settle. When the time is right, everyone will know."

I hesitated. I looked at Kaleb, so still and silent in his chair, and I saw a flicker of something in his eyes as they briefly met mine. It looked like... disappointment.

Ferdinand was right. This was a game of power, and Brett had just played his hand. A public declaration now would be seen as a desperate, spiteful act. It would make me look weak, and it would put Kaleb in an even more vulnerable position. The Kline clan was vast, and every single one of them was hungry for a piece of the empire. A direct confrontation was not the way.

So, I closed my mouth. I didn't argue. I didn't defend myself.

I let them laugh.

Then, I turned and walked away.

The ride home was a silent war. Juliana sat beside me in the back of the car, preening. She kept angling her wrist, letting the diamonds on her new bracelet catch the passing streetlights. The flashes of light were sharp, almost painful, making me squint.

"You know," she said, her voice a sweet, poisonous whisper, "even if you marry him, you'll never have his heart."

To the world, Juliana was the epitome of sweetness and innocence. A social media darling with a perfectly curated life. But in private, when it was just the two of us, the mask came off.

I looked at her, at the girl I had grown up with, and the past came rushing back. The memory of my previous life was as clear as the diamond on her wrist. I remembered walking into my bedroom to find her tangled in the sheets with Brett. My husband.

She had cowered in his arms, trembling like a frightened child, and he had shielded her, glaring at me as if I were the monster. The shock had been so immense, so soul-crushing, that I had fainted on the spot.

After that, my parents had sent her to study abroad. She ended up marrying some foreign heir, her life a glittering success story while mine spiraled into a lonely, premature end.

This time, I thought, a small, secret smile playing on my lips, you can have him. I was almost curious to see how it would play out for her when she was the one shackled to him.

"You're right," I said, my voice calm. The admission seemed to surprise her.

I turned to face her fully. "What's the point of having the man if you can't have his heart?"

I reached out and patted her hand gently. "I hope you grow up quickly, Juliana. Then you can marry Brett."

I gave her my most sincere smile. "I wish you both a lifetime of happiness."

She was speechless for a moment, her perfectly painted lips parted in surprise. Then, she recovered, a skeptical eyebrow raised.

"You can pretend all you want, Faith," she said with a dismissive laugh. "But I know you're just saying that. It doesn't matter. Brett loves me."

A few months passed. Thanksgiving arrived, a day for family and forced pleasantries. My father, oblivious as ever, asked me to deliver a gift to Ferdinand.

The moment I stepped into the Kline estate, I saw her. Juliana. She hadn't been home in days. She stood in the foyer, dressed in a designer gown and dripping with jewels that I knew were far beyond her allowance. She looked elegant, poised, and utterly triumphant.

She saw me and a slow, smug smile spread across her face.

"Do you like my outfit?" she asked, doing a little twirl. "Brett bought it all for me. He insisted. He said I was the only one who deserved to wear such beautiful things."

An old, familiar irritation pricked at me. I just wanted to deliver the gift and leave. I tried to step around her, but she moved to block my path.

"I just wanted to share my happiness with you, sister," she said, her voice saccharine sweet. "Why are you being so cold? I know you're jealous, but love isn't something you can control."

As she spoke, her eyes welled up with crocodile tears. It was a masterful performance.

I' d had enough. I pushed her aside, not hard, just enough to get past.

She crumpled to the floor with a theatrical gasp, the tears now flowing freely.

"Faith, you hit me!" she wailed, her voice echoing in the marble foyer. "How could you? We're sisters!"

And right on cue, as if summoned by her damsel-in-distress cry, Brett stormed into the room.

"What the hell are you doing?" he roared, his face contorted in rage.

He pointed a shaking finger at me, his eyes blazing. "Are you abusing your own sister, Faith? Have you no heart?"

I looked from Brett's furious face to Juliana's sobbing form on the floor, a perfectly orchestrated tableau of betrayal and deceit.

A small, humorless laugh escaped my lips. "It's incredible," I said, shaking my head. "She's so young, and already so skilled at playing the victim."

The words were barely out of my mouth when a sharp sting exploded across my cheek.

He had slapped me.

"Don't you dare talk about her that way," he snarled, his hand still raised.

---