Gavin Darnell and I were reborn together.

When the fire came roaring back to life, just like it had in the past, he didn't make the same choice.

This time, he bent down and scooped up his childhood sweetheart, Kierra Myers.

"In my past life, I regretted it countless times," he said. "Not reaching out when Kierra needed me the most. Because of that, she was disfigured in the fire and died young, sick, and depressed. This time, I'm staying with the woman I love. I won't waste another second on you, Celine."

I let out a bitter, breathless laugh as I watched him walk away with Kierra in his arms.

So I wasn't the only one who'd regretted that marriage.

Apparently, he had too.

He just got to rewrite the story.

Meanwhile, I was still stuck in its ashes.

——

Celine's POV

The fire was still raging when Gavin left.

My left leg was pinned under a collapsed beam, and blood streamed from my arm.

I could hardly move, and all the strength I had was gone.

And he knew that. He knew I was trapped, yet he walked away without so much as a glance back.

I was adopted into the Darnell family. In our previous life, Gavin and I married under his grandmother Eleanor's arrangement. From an outsider's perspective, we appeared to be the perfect, loving, and stable couple, even enviable.

But now, to make up for the guilt he carried over Kierra, Gavin wasn't just leaving me.

He was leaving me to die.

Pain pierced my chest. I let out a sharp and bitter laugh, directed entirely at myself.

In that last life, I gave Gavin everything—my time, devotion, and health. I poured every ounce of energy into helping him build the Darnell Group, but in return, he betrayed me.

And so, I pushed myself to the limit until my body finally collapsed.

All that loyalty, all that love—worthless. Worse, it made me look pathetic, like a joke.

Smoke coiled thicker around me. My lungs burned. I coughed hard, choking.

Above me, the chandelier creaked.

A moment passed, and it creaked, began to lean, and looked ready to fall.

A shadow appeared in the blink of an eye, moving quickly and recklessly. Whoever it was didn't hesitate. They threw themselves over me and pulled me out of the way just as the chandelier crashed down.

I didn't get a chance to see their faces.

Everything went black in their arms.

...

When I woke up, I was lying in a hospital bed.

No one from the Darnell family was there.

The only person in the room was Ben Lennox, Gavin's assistant.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Nicholson," Ben said stiffly. "Mr. Darnell has been with Ms. Myers this whole time. He couldn't come."

He looked at me, at the bruises and bandages, his face tight with discomfort. Then he cleared his throat and kept going.

"There are two documents here. Mr. Darnell instructed me to make sure you signed them the moment you woke up. No delays."

A heavy feeling settled in my chest, cold and familiar.

I stayed calm, took the papers, and opened them.

The first one was exactly what I expected: Gavin wanted to dissolve our engagement.

Without hesitation, I picked up the pen and signed my name silently.

Ben blinked, clearly stunned.

He hadn't expected me to agree so easily.

But I felt strangely light, like a weight had finally been lifted.

Even if Gavin hadn't sent the paperwork, I'd already made up my mind. There was nothing left to hold on to.

But when my eyes moved to the second document, my breath caught.

It stated that, as the Darnell family's adopted daughter, Gavin had already made decisions on my behalf. He was marrying me to Maxwell Pierson, heir to Pierson International in Riverton Heights.

Maxwell Pierson.

A man known for being cold-blooded and brutal. His business rivals called him ruthless.

His enemies called him worse.

In my past life, it was Kierra who married him. Not long after, she withered away. Rumor had it she wasted until she was skin and bones—miserable, hollowed out, unrecognizable.

Gavin would sigh about it, blaming her tragedy on the fire that disfigured her—and on the marriage that ensued, calling Max a living devil.

And now, knowing exactly what kind of man Max Pierson was, Gavin was throwing me into that same pit.

All to save Kierra from it.

The pain of that truth burned hotter than the flames I'd just escaped.

A sharp, metallic taste flooded my mouth. I swallowed it down.

Ben hesitated before speaking again.

"Ms. Nicholson, if you really don't want to marry into the Pierson family, maybe you could talk to Madam Eleanor. She's always had the final say. She might not let Gavin force you into marrying Maxwell Pierson, the reigning king of Hell."

Celine's POV

I understood the situation perfectly.

As long as I didn't get married, I'd be stuck living at the Darnell estate and tied to Gavin, with no escape from the endless back-and-forth between us.

Just hearing his name now made my skin crawl.

So I picked up the pen and, stroke by stroke, signed my name on the marriage contract with Max.

With Gavin working behind the scenes to speed things up, the wedding date was decided almost immediately. Whether it was fate or a strategic choice, the ceremony ended up on the same day as Gavin's wedding to Kierra.

...

Max didn't bother to show up on the wedding day. He sent a driver in his place.

Not that I was surprised. We hadn't even met in person.

This marriage wasn't based on compatibility or love. Max had been unhealthy for years, and the Pierson family needed someone to marry him in hopes of bringing him some luck. They likely thought we'd be divorced within a few years. My height, appearance, or looks didn't matter.

As I arrived, Gavin stepped into the venue with Kierra in his arms.

The moment he saw me, his mouth curled into a mocking smirk.

"Celine," he said, lifting an eyebrow, "you've always been a greedy little opportunist. The Piersons have more money and power than your family ever did. Marrying into that? Not exactly a downgrade. At worst, you'll be stuck wiping down a dying man."

Gavin paused, just long enough to let the insult settle. "Don't worry. When that sickly bastard finally kills you, I'll make sure you get a beautiful funeral."

The words were cruel, almost a curse.

But I didn't flinch. I calmly smiled instead.

"Then I wish you and your beloved all the happiness in the world," I replied. "May you have many children, and grow old together."

Gavin wasn't expecting that. His face flickered with surprise for just a moment. He looked at me, as if trying to figure out who I'd become.

Then Kierra tugged gently on his arm and leaned in close, her voice soft and pouty. "Gavin, my back's sore… carry me to our room and give me a massage, will you?"

He blinked as if waking from a trance. Without saying another word, he turned and carried her inside the Darnell estate, smiling all the way.

I felt nothing as well.

Wearing a white dress and holding a bouquet of fresh gardenias still damp from the morning dew, I stepped into the wedding car the Pierson family had sent for me.

...

That night, the so-called bridal chamber was far from romantic. Pierson Manor was old, cold, and silent, resembling more a haunted house than a honeymoon suite.

Still, the air carried a faint trace of sandalwood.

I paused.

It was the same scent I remembered clinging to the man who had pulled me out of the fire.

Could it really be him?

I was staring at my toes, lost in thought, when slow, steady footsteps echoed beyond the door. The soft tap of a cane punctuated each one.

I looked up.

Max stood in the doorway, his eyes fixed on me.

He was... strikingly beautiful.

Skin pale as marble, his eyes dark and sharp like ink dropped in water—clean, elegant features framed by a cold, unreadable expression. There was something regal about how he carried himself, radiating distance, composure, and an untouchable aura.

Under the soft lamplight, Maxwell Pierson didn't even look real. He looked like he'd walked out of a painting.

Before this moment, I'd imagined him as some brutish tyrant, terrifying and violent.

Not this.

His gaze slid over me without emotion. Then he turned his head away.

"My health is poor," Max said flatly. "I sleep lightly. I'm not used to sharing a bed. You can leave. The maids will show you to your room."

On our wedding night, he was kicking me out.

But I didn't argue.

I stood, crossed the room, and quietly poured a cup of tea. I walked over to Max and held it out.

"I'm not leaving," I said, my voice calm. "I'm your wife now. If your health is fragile, it's my responsibility to take care of you. Walking away would be neglect."

Surprise flickered in his eyes before he masked it. He glanced at the tea in my hands, then finally took the cup.

As he brought it to his lips, I added with a small smile, "Besides, if your health improves, that benefits me too. I mean, who wants to go to bed every night next to a gorgeous man they can't even touch?"

Celine's POV

Max's hand froze halfway through pouring the tea.

The cup trembled slightly in his grasp, and a few drops of steaming liquid splashed onto the back of his hand. Yet he acted as if he didn't even feel it.

After a long stretch of silence, a single word slipped coldly from between his lips.

"Leave."

I pressed my lips together.

Max's dismissal stung more than I wanted to admit, but I wasn't stupid. I knew when to pick my battles.

Especially now, when I was still technically a guest under the Pierson family's roof, utterly dependent on their goodwill.

So I nodded once, turned on my heel, and walked out of the room without saying another word.

...

The weeks that followed were quiet.

I barely saw Max at all.

He was always busy, either working nonstop at the company or locked away in his study, a do-not-disturb fortress I quickly learned not to disturb.

As for me, I'd been moved into a guest room and was thrown headfirst into a crash course on how to be the "proper Mrs. Pierson."

It was intense and relentless.

Suddenly, my days were filled with private tutors, each handpicked by the Piersons.

There was an etiquette coach who could balance a tray of champagne flutes on her head while walking in heels. A finance veteran who mastered global market theory as easily as basic math. And a language expert who juggled five languages seamlessly.

They rotated through the house like a well-oiled machine, drilling me from morning till night on everything from negotiation etiquette to tilting a wine glass at just the right angle during a toast.

One afternoon, the etiquette coach, an elegant woman with sharp eyes and an even sharper tongue, paused mid-lesson and looked me over like a display model in a showroom.

"Miss Celine," she said sharply, "as the wife of a man like Sir Maxwell, you'll be expected to attend events with him. Banquets, galas, forums, negotiations—it never stops. And if you show up unprepared, you won't just embarrass yourself, but the entire Pierson family. And I promise, the consequences won't be pleasant."

Her words carried an unspoken warning, one I understood perfectly well.

Max wasn't the type to carry dead weight. I wouldn't be standing beside him if I couldn't handle my own and stand beside him without holding him back.

But I didn't need the warning. I already knew.

In my past life, Kierra had never understood that simple truth. She believed that merely being "in love" with Gavin was enough to keep her safe—that the world would treat her gently because she was fragile and cherished.

She was wrong, and that mistake cost her everything.

I wasn't about to make it, either.

Thankfully, none of the studying felt foreign to me.

I'd always been drawn to this world: the polish, the power, the strategy behind every move. Even in my past life, I wanted to learn it all.

But Gavin had made sure I never got the chance.

He kept me in his shadow, pushing me away from anything that might give me too much independence. Maybe he was scared I'd realize how little I needed him. Perhaps he just wanted to be the only one shining.

Well, not anymore.

And while I kept my head down and focused on my lessons, I couldn't help but catch bits of gossip from around the estate. Whispered conversations between staff, snippets overheard during calls, the usual chatter.

Most of it was about Gavin and Kierra.

Apparently, they were off on a European honeymoon. Romantic, expensive, exclusive.

One day, someone mentioned that Gavin had given her a rare necklace that there wasn't another like it in the world. He was spoiling her endlessly, just like in a fairytale.

Or at least, the version of it she thought she was in.

...

One afternoon, I finally had a sliver of time to myself. No lessons, no obligations.

So I decided to treat myself to something simple: lunch.

I made a reservation at my old favorite restaurant—the one I used to visit religiously before everything in my life flipped upside down. I hadn't been back since.

It felt like the right time.

But when I walked in, I unexpectedly ran into Kierra.

The last empty table was the one I had booked.

Her eyes widened slightly as she saw me, as if she hadn't expected to run into me here.

A second later, Gavin walked in behind her.

When she noticed him, she reached for his arm and leaned in, her voice sweet and syrupy. "Gavin, the last table's already taken by Celine."

Gavin's eyes landed on me, and just like that, his mood soured.

"Celine," he snapped, annoyed. Do you really have nothing better to do? Are you seriously following us around now, just to grab a table and ruin our mood?"

I blinked at him, then let out a dry, incredulous laugh.

He actually believed that.

I met his stare without flinching as I replied, "You really think the world revolves around you? You honestly believe the Darnells are in any position to go toe-to-toe with the Piersons?"

That landed like a slap.

His face darkened instantly, lips tightening.

Kierra gently tugged on his sleeve, trying to defuse him.

"Gavin, don't be upset," she cooed. "Maybe it's just a coincidence."

Then she turned to me, all wide-eyed sympathy and fake sweetness. "Celine, things must be so difficult for you at home. But hey, it's just a table. We're not going to hold it against you."

Gavin scoffed, clearly not done being petty.

"I heard you've been making regular visits to the hospital," he said, his tone laced with cruelty. "Guess the Piersons don't treat you like a person, either."

I took my time scanning both of them.

"Coming from the Darnells?" I said slowly. "That's rich. I don't think you people ever understood how to treat anyone like a person."

Gavin's face flushed red with fury. His fists clenched at his sides.

Kierra whispered something to him again, trying to calm him down.

Eventually, he freed his arm and stormed outside to get the car. And I stood unbothered, watching them come apart at the seams.