The first thing I did when I came back to life was to pawn off my engagement to the Don of the Schroder family, Edmund, on my stepsister.

In my last life, he used the "family rules" to make me give up the one thing I loved—racing. He threw out all my colorful dresses and turned me into his canary in a gilded cage.

I died, suffocated and hopeless.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day the marriage contract was to be signed.

I quietly switched my name with my stepsister Laura's and let Edmund sign the papers.

He didn't forget to warn me, "Stay out of trouble. Our wedding is in three days. Be a good girl and wait for me to come get you."

But he had no idea I'd already bought a fake ID and passport.

In three days, I'd be gone. I'd be free.

I died on a bloody night.

A bullet from a rival family tore through my chest. I collapsed in a cold, abandoned warehouse, my vision blurring.

The last thing I saw was Edmund, running towards me.

He fell to his knees beside me, his cold, gray eyes—usually so hard—shining with tears. His hands trembled as he pressed down on my wound, but blood seeped through his fingers.

"Alessia... don't close your eyes. Look at me..." His voice shook.

I wanted to tell him that if he had just let me go, if he hadn't trapped me with those damn "family rules," maybe I wouldn't be dying here.

But when I tried to speak, only blood bubbled from my lips.

Darkness swallowed everything.

When I opened my eyes again, I saw the familiar pink velvet curtains and crystal chandelier.

I shot up in bed and looked at the calendar on my nightstand: three years ago, to the day.

I was reborn.

Back to the day the marriage contract was to be signed. Back to the beginning of my nightmare.

I didn't waste a second. I bolted down the stairs and threw open the door to my father's study.

"I'm calling off the engagement."

The room went dead silent. My father’s teacup froze mid-air. My stepmother, Claire, stared with wide eyes.

"What did you say?" My father slammed his cup on the table. "You think this is a game? This is the Schroder family! Do you have any idea how many girls would kill to be in your place?"

"Then give it to someone who wants it. Like Laura," I said calmly.

The anger on my father's face froze. Claire snapped out of her shock, so excited she almost jumped out of her chair.

"Are you... are you serious?" my father stammered.

I knew exactly what they were thinking. My father always favored the quiet, obedient Laura, and Claire had always dreamed of her daughter marrying into a powerful family.

"Of course, I'm serious. Laura's always wanted this, hasn't she? She can have it," I said with a shrug. That was all I came to say. I turned to leave.

"I'm calling Mrs. Schroder right now!" my father said, grabbing the phone with glee.

Back in my room, I took out the marriage contract and changed "Alessia" to "Laura." Then, papers in hand, I drove straight to Edmund's office.

Edmund looked surprised to see me. I always complained his office was nothing but black and white, a boring place I never wanted to set foot in.

He glanced at his watch. "You're early. I thought we agreed on three o'clock."

I forced a smile. "I... I couldn't wait to see you."

A faint smile touched his lips.

He took the contract. The terms were already set, so he signed it without a second look. The moment his pen left the paper, a massive weight lifted off my chest.

"Good," he said, pleased with my eagerness. "Our wedding is in three days. Be a good girl and wait for me to come marry you."

"I will," I nodded sweetly, but inside, I was laughing my head off.

The second I left, I dialed an encrypted number.

"I need a new identity. A passport, too."

"Three days. Usual place," a low, gravelly voice answered.

After hanging up, I straightened my hair in a storefront window. The girl in the reflection had a fire in her eyes I'd never seen before.

Freedom. My freedom was finally within reach.

That night, I met my best friend Chloe at the wildest club downtown to celebrate. The music was deafening, the neon lights blinding, and the air thick with the smell of alcohol and freedom. It was exactly the kind of place Edmund hated.

"Alessia, are you sure you should be here?" Chloe asked, worried. "If Edmund finds out—"

"He won't be my fiancé for much longer," I said, leaning back on the leather sofa and sipping a Bloody Mary. "Relax, I've got this."

A young, handsome bartender came over to mix us new drinks. His movements were smooth, his features as perfect as a Greek statue. High on my newfound freedom, I reached out and gently stroked his chin.

"You're a pretty one, aren't you?"

Just then, a cold, deep voice—laced with the scent of blood and steel—came from behind me.

"Who's pretty?"

I froze, slowly turning my head. Edmund, dressed in a black, tailor-made suit, was standing right there, his presence chilling the air.

His gray eyes were locked on my hand, still on the bartender's chin.

"Chloe, I just remembered my mom's waiting for me. I gotta go!" My friend's face went white. She grabbed her purse and practically sprinted out of there.

Edmund stepped closer, his gaze shifting from my hand to the young bartender.

"Get out."

The bartender practically scrambled away. The other patrons sensed the danger and cleared out, leaving our section of the club completely empty.

Edmund closed the distance, his long fingers wrapping around my wrist like a vice.

"Tell me what you were just doing."

I yanked my hand away, glaring back at him. "What I do is none of your business."

Before I could even react, he moved. One second I was standing my ground, the next I was thrown over his shoulder. I beat on his back and screamed at him, but he ignored me and strode out of the club.

"Let me down! You're insane!" I pounded his back with my fists, but his muscles were hard as rock.

"Edmund Schroder! Put me down!"

He didn't listen. He shoved me into his car, got in beside me, and locked the doors, trapping me in the small space.

"And here I was this afternoon, thinking you'd finally learned to behave. Guess it was all an act."

"Have you forgotten the Schroder family rules?" He turned to face me, his voice tight with fury. "The Don's wife is forbidden from setting foot in bars or casinos."

Memories from my past life flooded back—endless days and nights shackled by those rules, the suffocating despair of fighting back only to be crushed again and again.

"And," his eyes swept over my tight, red slip dress with disgust, "you are forbidden from wearing inappropriate clothing. When you get home, you will write the family rules one hundred times."

"Enough!" I finally snapped, my voice shrill. "Stop trying to cage me with your rules! I'm not marrying you!"

The air in the car went still.

Edmund's face hardened, the chill in his eyes deepening.

"What did you just say?"

I realized I'd said too much. If he found out my plan now, my escape in three days would be impossible.

"I... I was just angry," I forced myself to calm down, looking away. "You're always so controlling. Of course I'd get upset."

He stared at me for a long time, so long I thought he'd seen through my lie.

"It better have been," he finally said, his voice still ice. "Or you know the consequences."

The car stopped in front of my villa. Edmund took off his suit jacket and draped it over my shoulders. It smelled of his cold, sharp cologne.

"Throw these revealing dresses away," he commanded. "And don't forget to start on the rules tomorrow."

I gritted my teeth, got out of the car, and watched his black Cadillac disappear into the night. Old anger and new hatred boiled up inside me. I ripped his jacket off and threw it into a nearby trash can.

"You stuffy, old-fashioned bastard. Just three more days. I can handle three more days."

The moment I stepped inside the villa, I saw the living room was brightly lit.

My father sat in the main armchair, my stepmother Claire sipped tea beside him, and Laura sat quietly on the sofa in a white dress. It was a tribunal, and I was the one on trial.

Three pairs of eyes fixed on me.

"Look at the state of you!" my father shot up, pointing at my red dress. "Have you no shame? Do you even know what time it is?"

I ignored him, kicked off my heels, and started for the stairs.

"Wait," Laura said softly. "Sister, did you really give the engagement to me? I still can't believe it..."

She looked overwhelmed with gratitude, but the glint of triumph in her eyes gave her away.

I stopped and turned to face her perfectly crafted innocent expression. "What's the matter?" I sneered. "Don't you love picking up my trash?"

"Alessia!" my father roared. "How dare you speak to your sister like that!"

"Stepsister," I corrected him. "Let's be clear about our blood ties."

Claire's face tightened, but she maintained her high-society composure. "Alessia, that was uncalled for. Laura has always looked up to you. You shouldn't hurt her like this."

"Besides," my father continued, a smug look on his face, "Mrs. Schroder is much more pleased with Laura. She thinks Laura's gentle and poised nature is better suited for the family matriarch. It's too late for you to have any regrets now."

Regrets? I almost laughed out loud. If I wasn't so afraid of blowing my cover, I'd tell them I thank my lucky stars for this every single day.

"That's right, Alessia," Claire added with a syrupy-sweet, venomous tone. "With a personality like yours, what decent man would ever want you?"

I turned to my scheming stepmother. "Aunt Claire, you should worry about your own daughter. It would be a real shame if her new husband sent her packing, wouldn't it?"

"You—" Claire's face turned purple with rage.

I ignored them and went up to my room.

The next morning, while I was still lazing in bed, a maid knocked to say Edmund was here. I dragged myself out of bed, threw on a loose silk robe, and went downstairs.

Edmund was sitting in the living room. When he saw my disheveled state, his brow furrowed.

"Are the rules written?" he asked, getting straight to the point.

I flopped onto the sofa. "My hand hurts. I can't write."

His face darkened. "Alessia, don't test my patience."

"I really can't," I held out my hand for him to see. "Look, I can barely hold a pen."

As he stood there silently, Laura descended the stairs, clearly having spent hours getting ready.

"Mr. Schroder," she said shyly, handing him a framed canvas. "I painted this portrait of you last night. I hope you like it."

Edmund took the painting and studied it, a flicker of appreciation in his eyes. "This is very well done." Then he turned to me, his gaze filled with disappointment. "You should take a page out of your sister's book."

I'm about to make his wish come true, I thought with a cold smile. He'll have his respectful fiancée soon enough.

"Now, go get changed," Edmund ordered. "You're coming with me to a family dinner tonight."

"I'm not going," I refused flatly. "Take Laura. You seem to think she's more suitable anyway."

"You are the one I announced as my fiancée," he said, his voice laced with an authority that left no room for argument.

Those words hit me like a needle to the heart. Just like last time, he was marrying me because it was arranged by our elders. If he'd had a choice, he would have picked Laura from the start.

This time, I was going to give him what he wanted.

Laura immediately jumped in, her voice soft. "Maybe sister isn't used to such formal events. Why don't... I go with her?" Before I could protest, she grabbed my arm and pulled me upstairs. "Sister, let me help you with your makeup."

The second the door closed, Laura’s gentle facade vanished, replaced by a smug, triumphant smirk. "You saw it, didn't you? Edmund definitely prefers me."

I leaned against the door, watching her little show with amusement. "Is that so? Then why didn't you just tell him the bride has been switched?"

Laura's expression faltered.

I raised an eyebrow and stepped closer. "You don't have the guts, do you?" I taunted. "You're afraid he'll call off the whole thing if he finds out. Afraid he won't want you."