My husband, the financial tycoon Martin Hawthorne, had a college sweetheart who suffered a mental breakdown. Lacey Davis couldn't accept that he was marrying me, so she fled town in a fit of despair.

From then on, Martin was wracked with guilt over her, and our marriage devolved into a cold war between two people who despised each other.

However, when the rival Prescott family orchestrated a "workplace accident" to kill me, Martin shoved me out of the path of a collapsing pile of rebar.

The falling debris crushed him instead. As he lay dying in my arms, he whispered, "I saved your life. My debt to your father is paid. In our next life… let’s be strangers."

"I'm done hating you," he murmured, his breath fading. "All I want is for you to be that carefree designer you used to be. Now… I can finally rest."

And just like that, he was gone.

After bankrupting the Prescott family in revenge, I chose to follow him in death.

When I opened my eyes again, however, I was back at age twenty—the year of our engagement. I turned down my father’s arranged business marriage, opting instead to move to Seattle and take charge of our family's new real estate project.

This time, I would keep my distance. I would let Martin and Lacey have their happiness.

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1

After my rebirth, I stopped chasing Martin Hawthorne. But the psychological trauma from my past life lingered, bringing with it debilitating migraines.

On the night before our engagement was to be finalized, the pain was unbearable. I was rummaging through my drawers for painkillers when Martin entered, carrying a steaming cup of specially brewed herbal tea.

He didn't say a word, simply setting the cup down and massaging my temples with the pads of his fingers. The focused gentleness of his touch sent an unwelcome flutter through my chest.

"Ava, you can't keep doing this," Martin said, his voice low. "This isn't the way to get my attention. You have to take care of yourself."

His words hit me like a splash of cold water. A familiar bitterness rose in my throat. That was him—capable of the most tender touch, yet armed with the cruelest words.

I'd once told myself he was just bad at expressing his feelings. But after Lacey Davis left, I finally understood the cold truth: he wasn't awkward; he just didn't love me.

When I didn't respond, his tone hardened. "Say something, Ava Monroe! I'm only going to say this once: pull another stunt like this, and you’ll disgrace both our families."

His voice was laced with the same chilling disgust he’d shown me in our past life, right after Lacey had gone.

Tears pricked my eyes, but I forced a nod. "Fine. I won't chase you anymore. I won't bother you again."

After a brief hesitation, I gently tugged on the hem of his sleeve, blinking back tears. "Could you… just look at me one last time? The way you used to?"

A flash of annoyance crossed his features. He frowned, taking a half-step back.

I took a shaky breath and pressed on. "Please… I swear, this is the last thing I'll ever ask."

He looked as if he was about to refuse, but my fingers found his hand, and the unexpected warmth of my palm against his made him pause.

"Ava," he began, "don't push it. You're only making me resent you more. I've told you before—to me, you're a business partner's daughter. Nothing more."

I fought the lump in my throat, savoring the fleeting warmth of his hand in mine. Then, I gave a solemn nod. "I know. And starting today, I'll leave you alone."

He clearly didn't believe me. With a sigh, he rubbed his temples. "I hope you mean that."

With that, he gave me one last, perfunctory glance before turning and leaving my room without looking back.

I stared at his back as he walked away, frozen to the spot.

The faint scent of his cologne hung in the air. I breathed it in deeply, a desperate attempt to hold on to one last piece of him.

Remembering the skepticism in his eyes, a bitter smile touched my lips. This time, I meant every word. No more chasing.

I would keep my distance and become exactly what he wanted: the daughter of his business partner, a woman he’d never have to think about again.

The next day, my father summoned me to his study to finalize the engagement details. The first words out of my mouth were, "Dad, I'm calling it off. I don't want to marry Martin. I want to go to Seattle and take over the new project."

"You've wanted to marry him since you were a little girl," he said, clearly shocked. "Why the sudden change of heart?"

"I don't love him anymore," I said simply. "I just want to focus on my career. Dad, please, I need you to support me in this."

My father studied me, his perpetually pampered daughter, and let out a long sigh. "Are you absolutely sure? If you back out now, you know your cousin Lacey will be the one to marry him."

I nodded firmly. "Then let them. I wish them a lifetime of happiness."

A thought struck me. "And Dad," I added, "please don't tell Martin I was the one who called it off. I don't want him thinking this is some kind of game. I just want to walk away with a little dignity and wish him well."

My father looked puzzled by my earnestness, but he agreed nonetheless and booked my flight to Seattle.

My new life would begin in one week.

As it happened, our Seattle branch was in desperate need of a chief designer for a new landmark project.

I was the perfect candidate.

After leaving my father's study, I was heading for the garden when Lacey intercepted me in the hallway.

"Ava, why can't you just let Martin and me be happy?" she demanded, her eyes already brimming with tears.

I opened my mouth to argue but then closed it. I had already decided to cut them out of my life; there was no point in fighting. The truth would come out soon enough.

Shaking my head to clear it, I tried to step around her.

She grabbed my arm, shoving her phone in my face. The screen showed a gossip column accusing me of leaking Lacey's private information to the press out of jealousy. Before I could process it, she dropped to her knees, her voice rising in a dramatic cry. "Ava, even if you ruin my reputation, I'll still love Martin!"

Before I could even react, Martin was there, rushing over and shoving me hard.

"Ava Monroe!" he roared. "What the hell did you do to her?"

I opened my mouth to explain, but the raw disgust in his eyes stole the words from my throat.

To him, I would always be the villain, and sweet, fragile Lacey would always be the victim.

My heart sank. Rubbing the small of my back where I’d stumbled, I turned to leave. But Martin's hand shot out, clamping around my arm.

"Apologize to her, Ava. Now."

"I didn't do anything!" I retorted, yanking my arm. "Why should I apologize?"

His anger flared. "I've already agreed to this ridiculous marriage, Ava! Why are you still pulling these cheap tricks to hurt her?"

His shout made my eyes sting. I sniffled, fighting for control. "I told you, I didn't do anything!"

Lacey, meanwhile, looked up with wide, tear-filled eyes, "defending" me. "Martin, don't be so hard on Ava. She only does these things because she loves you so much."

The words had barely left her mouth before Martin was helping her to her feet, the look of tenderness he gave her a sight I had never once received.

A sharp pang lanced through my chest.

I clenched my fists, willing the tears not to fall.

"Listen to me, Ava," Martin snarled, his voice low and dangerous. "Even if we get married, I will never, ever love you."

I finally spun around, the tears winning, streaming down my cheeks.

"Fine," I choked out. "Have it your way."

With that, I limped away, a strange sense of relief washing over me. At least I wasn't repeating the mistakes of my past. There would be no hateful marriage trapping us both.

In this life, I would keep my promise. Martin and I would be nothing more than strangers bound by business.

After that day, I expected silence. To my surprise, an assistant began delivering aromatherapy oils to my room each evening to ease my headaches, always accompanied by a short, handwritten note from Martin.

A film of tears blurred my vision as I read his notes. I traced the sharp angles of his script with my finger, my mind drifting back to our past life.

After my father had saved his family from financial ruin, Martin had become my guardian angel. No matter how absurd my demands, he always found a way to fulfill them.

Even after we grew to hate each other, he would silently arrange for my care whenever I was sick. And at the construction site, he hadn't hesitated for a second before throwing his body in front of mine.

He was only repaying a debt to my father, but I had foolishly mistaken duty for love. I’d used that "love" to entangle him for a decade, ruining his chance at happiness and destroying myself in the process.

The thought yanked me back to the present. And with it came a sudden, chilling memory: today was the day of the party. The day of the fire.

Ignoring the throbbing in my head, I bolted from my room and sprinted toward the rooftop club, praying I wasn't too late.

When I arrived, I found Lacey chatting and laughing with a few other socialites in a private lounge. I glanced toward the nearby kitchen and saw it—sparks flying from a frayed wire near a gas line. Without a second thought, I lunged for the wall and pulled the fire alarm.