“One hundred million,” she said without a trace of warmth. “Collect the payment, disappear abroad within seven days, and make sure you never cross paths with my grandson again.”

Across the polished table sat Mrs. Sterling — Sebastian’s formidable grandmother — wrapped in silk and diamonds, her expression carved from contempt, as if even sharing the same room with me was an offense she barely tolerated.

Once, I would have shattered under that gaze. My cheeks would have burned, tears spilling as I swore I wasn’t a gold digger, that I loved Sebastian with everything I had. I would have clung to him like a lifeline.

But not today.

This time, I only curved my lips slightly and inclined my head.

“Fine. I accept.”

For a heartbeat she looked almost startled, then she let out a short, humorless chuckle. “Good. It’s about time you remembered where you belong.”

I didn’t bother replying. I picked up the check, folded it neatly, and rose from my seat. No arguments. No pleas. Not anymore.

After all, I had already paid the ultimate price for loving Sebastian once before.

In that other life, I’d died because I refused to walk away from him. They called it a tragic mishap — a drunk, a gun meant for someone else. But it was my heart the bullet found. As I lay bleeding across the floor, he didn’t even meet my eyes. The only sound he made was another woman’s name falling from his lips.

Then I opened my eyes… and time rewound.

I was back to when I was still his wife. Back to before the betrayal reached its climax. Back to this very night, when his grandmother tried to buy me out of his life with a single signature.

So I accepted the money — silently.

When I returned to the villa, the darkness had thickened, swallowing the empty rooms. The house felt colder than ever. The only warmth lingered in a framed photograph resting on the coffee table: Sebastian holding me close, looking at me as though the world ended and began with me.

I brushed my fingertips over the glass, and the memories came flooding in.

Three years earlier, beneath a rain-lashed bridge, I had found him barely clinging to life. That day my coworker — malicious and petty — had tossed my phone into the murky floodwaters. I had been cursing under my breath while searching for it when I heard someone gasping for air.

He was slumped against the concrete, a gunshot wound torn into his side, rain and blood mingling at his feet.

“Who are you?” I asked, shaking.

“I don’t… I don’t remember,” he whispered weakly, teeth chattering. “Just don’t take me to a hospital. Please.”

I brought him home to my rundown apartment — peeling walls, leaky pipes, winters we survived wrapped in piles of quilts.

And somehow, in that poverty, love bloomed.

He waited downstairs after my late shifts so I wouldn’t walk home alone. When cramps bent me in half, he stayed awake all night, massaging my stomach until the pain eased. Without telling me, he worked three jobs just to afford a bracelet I had admired in a shop window only a few times.

Every night he’d pull me close and murmur, “I don’t want anything in this world except you.”

I believed every word.

He even dragged me to a tattoo parlor and etched my name across his chest.

“If it hurts, it means I’ll never forget you,” he said with a grin.

I thought we were unbreakable.

Until his memories returned.

He wasn’t some penniless man abandoned by fate. He was the heir to the Sterling mafia empire — a ruler of half of New York’s underworld. He hadn’t been forgotten. He’d been hunted.

Once he remembered who he was, the man I loved vanished.

He moved me into this massive estate, draped me in jewelry I never asked for, then disappeared into suits, blood-soaked negotiations, and endless nights away.

I told myself he was just busy.

Until I saw the photos.

Sebastian opening car doors for Bianca Rutherford, her smile radiant, his gaze tender in a way he hadn’t looked at me in months. Headlines praised them as destiny’s perfect pair.

That night, sitting alone under the moon, I finally understood:

The Sebastian who had walked through storms for me had died the moment he reclaimed his throne.

In my previous life, I had refused to accept it — begging, degrading myself — until I paid with my life.

But not this time.

Because this time, I had come back.

---

The villa was silent as ever that night. Sebastian didn’t return.

Before, I would have waited on the couch until morning. This time, I went straight to bed.

At dawn, I headed to the visa office, filled out every form, paid for expedited processing. In a week, I’d be gone.

When I stepped outside at noon, I wandered without direction until I entered a random restaurant.

The second I pushed the door open, my entire body froze.

Sebastian was seated near the window, Bianca across from him. He bent toward her, gently dabbing the corner of her lips with a napkin, his expression tender — the same softness he once reserved only for me back when we were crammed into that run-down apartment with cracked walls and leaking pipes.

My chest constricted. I turned on my heel, wanting to escape before they noticed me, but I rushed straight into someone’s shoulder.

“I’m so sorry,” I blurted automatically.

The man lifted his head.

The warmth in his eyes vanished in an instant.

He rose from his chair and walked toward me with long, angry strides.

“So now you’re stalking me too?” he snapped.

I hadn’t even drawn a proper breath when he continued, his voice colder.

“I’ve already explained everything about Bianca and me. It was strictly business. How long are you planning to humiliate yourself like this?”

I tried to speak, but Mrs. Sterling’s words from the night before echoed cruelly in my head:

Their marriage has been planned for years. He has feelings for her as well.

Planned. Marriage. Arranged.

The truth I had been too blind — and too in love — to see.

“Sebastian, there’s no need to sound so harsh,” Bianca said gently as she stood and slipped to his side. “It’s just a coincidence that we ran into each other. Why don’t we all have lunch together?”

Before I could object, she looped her arm through his and ushered me toward their table like I had no right to refuse. I ended up sitting opposite him, trapped under the weight of his frigid stare.

“What would you like to order, Miss Monroe?” Bianca passed me the menu, smiling politely. “The Spanish dishes here are quite famous.”

The menu might as well have been written in code. “I’m not hungry.”

“At least have some soup,” she urged, already waving the waiter over. A bowl of steaming seafood broth was set down in front of me. “It’s very fresh.”

The scent hit my nose and my stomach twisted violently. I was allergic. One sip would land me in the ER.

Before I could protest, Sebastian’s phone rang. He stepped aside to answer.

Bianca leaned in, her lips barely moving.

“Go on, taste it. A dish like that probably costs more than what you earned in a whole month when you were living in that rat hole you called home.”

My fingers clenched around the napkin.

She took a slow sip of wine, eyes gleaming. “You don’t seriously think you belong in places like this, do you? Women like you don’t marry into families like his. If Sebastian hadn’t lost his memory, you wouldn’t even qualify to polish his shoes.”

Heat rushed to my face, but I forced my chin up. “You can keep your—”

“Oh!”

She suddenly gasped and “accidentally” tipped the entire bowl, scalding soup splashing over both our hands.

Agony tore through my skin. I recoiled sharply, biting down on a scream. Even though I had been reborn, the humiliation followed me in different forms, as if fate refused to let me escape public cruelty.

Sebastian rushed back at once, grabbing Bianca’s wrist. “What happened?”

She trembled slightly, perfectly pitiful. “It’s nothing… I was just startled. I suppose Aurelia doesn’t like seeing us together. It’s understandable…”

His gaze sliced toward me. “How many times do I have to explain things to you? What’s wrong with you?”

My hand burned, angry red blisters already rising. “She did it on purpose—”

“Enough!” he barked. “I saw it all. When did you become this pathetic?”

Then he pulled Bianca into his arms and turned away from me.

She nestled against his chest, but not before flashing me a smug smile over his shoulder.

I stared at my injured hand, shaking with pain. Three years ago, when I burned myself in our kitchen, he’d raced out at midnight just to buy ointment. Now he didn’t spare me a glance.

I left alone, smiling bitterly.

The villa greeted me with darkness and silence, just like always when Sebastian wasn’t home. I dug out the first-aid kit and treated the burn myself. The disinfectant stung, the ointment barely soothed it, and the bandage throbbed like ants crawling beneath my skin.

When I straightened, my eyes drifted to the grand piano in the corner — the Cielo he’d bought after regaining his memory, promising to teach me how to play.

It was coated in dust.

He’d never played a single note. Never taught me anything. Just like our marriage — once sworn, now abandoned.

I turned away quickly and went upstairs. In the bedroom, I pulled out a suitcase and started packing. Clothes. IDs. Bank cards. One item at a time, I folded my past into that case.

Halfway through, the door creaked open.

Sebastian stood there, jacket over his arm, tie loosened, the powerful aura of the Sterling heir radiating off him once more.

His eyes locked onto the suitcase.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m getting ready to leave,” I replied in a low voice.

He closed the distance between us, and his cologne washed over me. My stomach clenched — it was the exact same scent that had clung to Bianca earlier that day.

Suddenly his fingers wrapped around my wrist.

“So this is what this is about?” he snapped. “You’re running away just because I had lunch with Bianca? You were the one who hurt her, and she didn’t even complain. Yet here you are, throwing a tantrum?”

I met his gaze. His eyes weren’t icy or gentle — they were full of impatience, as if I were nothing more than an inconvenience.

“Our families have been close for generations,” he continued. “Her parents asked me to look after her now that she’s back in the country. Can you not try, just once, to be a little more reasonable?”

Reasonable.

The word stabbed straight through me. As if I hadn’t already sacrificed everything for him. As if I hadn’t already given my life once because of him.

How much more did he think I owed him?

“Answer me!” he demanded.

I said nothing. Silence was the only armor I still had.

His grip tightened for a moment before he let go, fury darkening his features.

“Fine. Be stubborn. Let’s see how long you last. You have nowhere to go. I practically own half of New York.”

The door slammed so violently the walls shook.

I stared at the half-packed suitcase. In my past life, I would have collapsed in tears, chased after him, begged him to choose me. But this time, I pressed my lips together and kept folding my clothes.

---

The following morning, I stepped into the living room — and froze.

Bianca was lounging on the sofa, chatting sweetly with Mrs. Edith Sterling like she had always belonged there. She was dressed in white, glowing, every inch the future lady of this house.

When she noticed me, her smile widened.

“Good morning, Miss Monroe. My parents insisted Sebastian take me to today’s auction. Please don’t misunderstand.”

I glanced toward Sebastian. He was adjusting his cufflinks, his face unreadable. He never even spared me a look.

“There’s nothing to misunderstand,” I replied calmly. “What you choose to do has nothing to do with me.”

For the briefest moment, his fingers paused, but he said nothing.

Bianca let out a light laugh. “Why don’t you come too? You don’t seem busy.”

Before I could decline, she slipped her arm through mine and tugged me forward, her nails pressing faintly into my skin — a quiet reminder of where I stood.

---

The auction hall sparkled like royalty’s playground. Everywhere I looked were expensive suits, glittering jewels, people who lived in Sebastian’s world.

He sat in the front row, bidding without hesitation. Every item he won was passed directly into Bianca’s hands, and each time she leaned in close to whisper something into his ear, smiling like a bride.

They looked inseparable.

I sat off to the side, unseen, like I didn’t belong.

At one point, Bianca spoke sweetly, loud enough for me to hear.

“Sebastian, why don’t you get something for Miss Monroe too?”

He didn’t even turn his head.

“She wouldn’t know what to do with any of it.”

The words landed like a slap.

Bianca glanced at me with thinly veiled triumph, as though she had just won without lifting a finger.

My hand rested on the glossy auction catalogue. He was wrong — it wasn’t that I didn’t understand these things. It was that in his eyes, I wasn’t worthy of them.

To him, I would always be the girl from nowhere. Someone easily erased.

Then the final item was unveiled.

An ivory comb, delicately carved, gemstones gleaming along its spine.

My breath caught, my grip tightening on the bidding paddle.

It was my grandmother’s.

Three years ago, Sebastian had been working himself to the bone to save for my birthday when he was hit by a car. The hospital bills were crushing. I sold that comb — the last keepsake from my grandmother — to save his life. I swore I would buy it back one day.

But it vanished.

I searched antique shops, begged collectors, chased rumors for years — nothing.

Until now.

Without thinking, I raised my paddle.

“One million.”

The room stirred. Bianca turned, surprise flashing briefly across her face before she lifted her own paddle.

“Three million.”

“Four million.”

“Ten million,” she replied easily, her voice almost playful.

The numbers climbed like blades. I didn’t care how deep I cut myself — I would not lose it again.

Sebastian finally raised his paddle.

The hammer fell.

“Sold, to Mr. Sterling!”

Applause echoed hollowly.

Then he turned — not to me, but to her.

“Do you like it? It’s yours.”

The paddle slipped from my numb fingers and clattered to the floor.

I watched as the comb — my grandmother’s last gift — was placed into Bianca’s hands. She cradled it, then suddenly gasped.

“Oh no!”

It fell.

I rushed forward, but the sound came first — a clean, cruel snap as it shattered in two, gems scattering across the marble like fallen stars.

My body moved before my mind could. I shoved her aside and dropped to the floor, gathering the broken pieces with shaking hands.

“Aurelia!”