I died at twenty-six.

My husband, Bowen Caldwell—chief security advisor for the Hawthorne Group—leaked our location to a human trafficking ring on the Mexican border. He did it to appease his “delicate” ex-girlfriend, and he did it on the day I went into labor.

"Caspian has so many bodyguards! Why did you have to drag me back here?" he had roared over the phone, his voice laced with venom. "If it weren't for you, Savannah and I would never have lost our child in that crash! I hope you and your baby suffer a thousand times more than she ever did!"

I could never forget his cold curse before the line went dead, nor the despair of being tortured to death alongside my newborn in that dark, filthy basement.

When I opened my eyes again, I was reborn on that fateful night—the moment Caspian Hawthorne, head of the Hawthorne Group, was targeted by a car bomb outside the annual charity gala.

This time, Bowen had once again abandoned his post to play hero for his lover, Savannah Reed, using his authority to dismiss Caspian's entire security detail.

On my phone screen, the emergency app that could summon him directly was flashing.

This time, I didn't press it.

Eight months pregnant, I ignored the risk and plunged through the screaming crowd. I threw myself at the man standing oblivious by his car, tackling Caspian to the ground just as the world erupted in fire. My body was his shield.

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1

"There's a bomb! Get Mr. Hawthorne!"

A scream ripped through the New York night.

As a car hurtled toward the barricades, primed to explode, a primal fear made me recoil.

The memory of being tortured to death with my child in that hellish basement was seared into my very soul. As chaos from the gala's entrance washed over me, the phantom pain was so visceral it stole my breath.

I was reborn. Thirty seconds before Caspian Hawthorne was meant to die.

Shaking off the terror, I laid a protective hand on my swollen belly. My baby was alive. There was still time.

In the heart of the chaos, I deleted the emergency alert app from my phone—my direct line to my husband.

With Bowen having pulled away all the core bodyguards, Caspian was now utterly exposed, a defenseless target in the stampeding crowd.

The car, laden with explosives, was barreling straight for him. A red countdown timer flashed from the driver's seat.

Without a second thought, I sprinted forward, my body a desperate shield, and tackled Caspian behind the solid frame of a limousine.

A moment later, a deafening blast tore through the air.

A wave of heat and metal shrapnel slammed into my back. The immense impact sent me sprawling, and an excruciating pain shot through my spine as if it were shattering.

"Cough, cough…" I choked, blood trickling from the corners of my mouth, staining the front of my gown.

Then, as Caspian stared in stunned silence, I twisted my body to intercept a flying piece of wreckage meant for him.

"Be… careful…" I gasped. "The Group… can't lose you…"

I watched the shock in his deep, gray eyes morph into a raw gratitude I had never seen before. In that instant, I knew my gamble had paid off.

My husband, Bowen Caldwell, was a security advisor the Hawthorne family had spent a fortune to train. He was supposed to be glued to Caspian's side.

Yet, during today's attack, Bowen was nowhere in sight.

All because his one true love, Savannah Reed, had wept over the phone, claiming she felt like she was being followed and needed to go to Fifth Avenue to calm her nerves. So, like a love-struck fool, Bowen had not only abandoned his post but had redeployed the entire security team to be her personal guard.

In my past life, I had been so worried about Bowen facing the Hawthornes' wrath that I’d frantically pressed the alert and called him back.

He was reprimanded, but because he returned just in time, his position was saved. He was even entrusted with more responsibility.

My reward? He called me vain and blamed me for Savannah's miscarriage. He was the one who condemned my child and me to hell.

Since God had granted me a second chance, I swore I would never let history repeat itself.

When the roar of the explosion faded, we were left in a smoldering field of wreckage. Burning car parts littered the ground around us. Because I had taken the brunt of the blast, Caspian had only minor injuries.

Just then, the wail of sirens finally cut through the night. Police swarmed the area, weapons raised, and sealed off the block.

The immediate crisis was over.

But I felt the frantic fluttering in my womb slow, then cease. Warm, sticky blood gushed from the wound on my back and streamed from between my legs, soaking my evening gown. I shivered uncontrollably as my life drained out of me.

I was eight months pregnant.

I reached out, my fingers grasping at nothing as darkness swallowed my vision and I collapsed.

Caspian caught me, his voice tight with a new panic as he yelled at his assistant, "Get a doctor! Now! Find her husband! Get him here immediately!"

I tried to speak, but more blood spilled from my mouth. Caspian showed no disgust, leaning in close to hear my faint words.

With the last of my strength, I enunciated each word. "My name is… Jocelyn. I am the wife of Chief Advisor Bowen Caldwell."

The moment I finished speaking, the darkness consumed me completely.

After what felt like an eternity, a sharp pain jolted me back to consciousness. The Hawthorne family's private physician, Marcus Thorne, quickly administered a shot of adrenaline.

Marcus wiped the sweat from his brow. "Mrs. Caldwell, you have to stay awake. Your vital signs are unstable. If you fall asleep now, you might not wake up."

"Think of your husband, your child. They need you. You have to fight."

Caspian's tall frame entered my blurry field of vision. His suit was ruined and his hair disheveled, but it did nothing to diminish the commanding aura forged by a lifetime of power.

"You saved my life. I won't forget it," he said, his voice a deep, powerful rumble. "When you recover, you will have anything you desire. The child you carry will be my godchild."

"Just hang on. I've already sent someone for Bowen."

Hearing Caspian's promise, a faint, ironic smile touched my lips.

Caspian was so naive.

The steady, warm flow of blood down my thighs told me everything. My child was already gone.

And Bowen? The sky could be falling, but if Savannah shed a single tear, he would never turn back for me.

As if on cue, the assistant Caspian had sent returned, alone. He bowed his head, unable to meet Caspian's gaze.

"Where is he?" Caspian demanded, his brow furrowed with suppressed anger.

The assistant’s voice trembled. "Mr. Hawthorne, Bowen… he refuses to come back." He hesitated. "He said… his words were, 'Tell that drama queen to stop pulling these stunts for attention. I'm not falling for it.'"

The assistant bowed his head even lower, sweat beading on his forehead.

I knew Bowen’s actual words must have been far uglier. Savannah had been poisoning his mind for months, convincing him that my every pain was a performance staged to win him back.

If Savannah was his only concern, why had he pursued me so desperately in the first place?

A toxic mix of grief and rage coiled in my gut. I turned my head and coughed up another mouthful of blood.

Marcus's expression turned grave.

"Sir, Mrs. Caldwell is crashing! If we can't get her to fight, medicine alone won't be enough!"

Caspian's gaze fell on my ashen face. He could no longer contain the fury in his chest.

He pulled out an encrypted phone, one only top executives could use, and thrust it at his assistant. His voice was like ice. "Call Bowen with this."

"No one in this company dares to ignore a call from my private line. Tell him if he's not here in five minutes, he'll be facing an FBI prosecution for leaking corporate secrets!"

This time, Caspian was truly furious.

He was the king of Wall Street. He had just survived a deadly attack without a single guard at his side.

A pregnant woman had nearly died saving him, and his own chief advisor was ignoring the summons for personal reasons.

This was more than dereliction of duty. It was a flagrant challenge to the Hawthorne family's authority.

Just then, the door to the room was shoved open.

It wasn't Bowen. It was Savannah's sycophantic friend, Chloe.

The sight of her face sent a tremor of pure hatred through my body.

Chloe, however, mistook my trembling for guilt.

She was momentarily startled by my blood-soaked state, but her usual smug cruelty quickly returned. "Drop the act, Jocelyn. That prop blood looks almost real. What movie set did you steal it from?"

"Mr. Caldwell is with Savannah, and he gave explicit orders not to be disturbed. He sent me with a message."

"He said to have some self-respect and stop this."

Chloe sneered. "Bowen told me he hates being so cruel, but you force his hand. You're always so jealous, so hysterical. What will your son think when he grows up and learns his mother was a raving lunatic?"

Finished with her tirade, Chloe failed to notice the room's temperature had dropped to freezing. Caspian stood in the shadows, his back to her, emanating a suffocating, murderous rage.

Chloe didn't recognize him at all. She gestured at Caspian's blood-stained, disheveled form and scoffed, "Oh, and who's this? Did your little pity party not work, Jocelyn? Had to find some random bum off the street to make Bowen jealous? Your standards have really cratered, haven't they?"

"What do you think will happen when I tell Bowen you're cheating with some old degenerate while carrying his child? Do you want to be thrown out with nothing, or have your name dragged so thoroughly through the mud you'll have to flee New York?"

Chloe let out a triumphant laugh, certain she had me cornered.

After all, to a snob like her, the ruined man in the shadows couldn't possibly be the legendary, untouchable Caspian Hawthorne.

A cold snort cut through her laughter.

Caspian's assistant immediately stepped forward and made a call. Caspian's icy voice followed.

"Blacklist her. Notify every major agency and media outlet. I want her erased from the industry. And send her financials to the IRS, anonymously. Let her rot in a federal prison cell and think about what she did today."

Chloe's laughter died in her throat. The cold, hard reality finally slammed into her. She had just insulted the one man in New York who could make God himself step aside.

Caspian didn't even glance at the crumpled heap that was Chloe on the floor. He ordered his assistant, "Take a picture. Send it to Bowen. Tell him I want him here, now. I want to see for myself what was so important that he could ignore the fact that Ms. Hayes is dying."

I didn't miss the subtle but significant shift in how Caspian addressed me.

I was no longer "Mrs. Caldwell." I was "Ms. Hayes."

This was the result I wanted.

In Caspian's eyes, a line had been drawn. I was his savior. Bowen was a traitor awaiting judgment.

The risk had been enormous, but my bet had paid off.

I was wheeled toward the operating room.

When I regained consciousness, a nurse was gently helping me sit up.

"Ms. Hayes, the attack on Mr. Hawthorne has the entire board in an uproar. He's returned to headquarters to take command," she said in a hushed, reverent tone. "Before he left, he gave strict orders for you to rest. He said that after he deals with... that man... he will return to see you personally."