Watching them leap without hesitation, I immediately started figuring out how to save myself.

After all, I couldn’t trust Eugene to remember me once he reached safety, let alone call for rescue. In two lifetimes, the only person who ever mattered to him was my half-sister, Sharon.

In my previous life, even though the odds were slim, he contacted the rescue team as soon as he reached a signal.

But this time, Sharon was the one with a chance to survive because she had the parachute.

I didn’t expect Eugene to bother with rescue efforts once he landed. Honestly, I’d be grateful if he didn’t publicly declare me dead the moment he hit the ground.

After all, in both lifetimes, the only woman he truly loved was Sharon.

It was only after we married in my previous life that I discovered the truth—Eugene and Sharon had known each other long before. They met in school as two illegitimate children brought back into their families, finding solace in their shared pain and promising to stay by each other’s side.

The engagement with me was a calculated move. I was the legitimate heiress of the Cook family, and all its future wealth was destined to be mine.

So even though Eugene loved Sharon, he chose to save me for the Cook family fortune.

In my past life, he deeply regretted that choice.

This time, I made the choice for him. He should be thanking me.

As their figures disappeared from view, I ran straight to the cockpit.

In my previous life, Eugene’s constant accusations gradually convinced me that the crash, Sharon’s death, and everything that followed were all my fault. He led me to believe that I’d stolen her chance at survival.

Those feelings of guilt drove me to learn how to fly a plane. I even earned a pilot’s license and watched countless simulations of the crash, analyzing every detail.

I consulted expert after expert, but their responses to my simulations had always left me stunned.

For years, I dreamed of going back to this day, hoping for a chance to rewrite it all.

Now, standing in the cockpit, I could hardly contain my excitement. My chance had finally come.

Following my previous experience, I fastened the seatbelt and began maneuvering the plane into a slow descent.

After all, the crash wasn’t an accident. It had everything to do with the upcoming project in Ashford, where the Cook family and the Shaw family were both leading contenders.

The plane itself hadn’t malfunctioned. The entire incident was orchestrated, with today’s crew deliberately planted by a rival family. They claimed it was an error, intentionally sabotaged one of the parachutes, and created chaos to unnerve both families and gain an edge in securing the project.

But this time, since I was back, I wasn’t going to let history repeat itself.

Sitting in the cockpit, I skillfully opened the throttle, took control of the yoke, and adjusted the rudder pedals.

The engine roared to life, its hum echoing through the cabin. The plane, which had been plummeting rapidly, gradually stabilized.

It even showed signs of leveling out. With steady adjustments, I managed to bring the aircraft back to balance.

However, given the altitude lost during the descent, it was impossible to make it to the airport. An emergency landing was my only option.

Luckily, the area below wasn’t filled with skyscrapers but a vast expanse of mountains.

I carefully guided the plane downward, skimming over treetops that bent and broke under the aircraft’s path before it finally came to a halt in a valley between two peaks.

Stepping out of the cockpit and onto solid ground, I felt as though I had been reborn.

However, the landing site seemed desolate, far removed from any sign of civilization. And as I feared, there was no signal.

After several failed attempts to call for help, I decided to take matters into my own hands.

Carrying the few supplies left on the plane, I began walking toward the foot of the mountains. The path was rugged and treacherous, and I hadn’t gone far before wild grasses scratched at my skin, leaving cuts along my ankles.

Blood beaded on my ankle, but I ignored it, pressing on toward the base of the mountain.

Finally, I spotted a figure in the distance on a narrow trail. I shouted desperately, “Help! Please, wait! Help me!”

He heard me and turned around.

But the moment I saw his face, I froze in place.

“Evan?”

The moment Evan Shaw saw me, his previously relaxed expression darkened as his brows knitted together. Striding toward me, his gaze landed on my injuries, and a flicker of emotion crossed his eyes—too subtle to pin down.

"What happened? How did you end up coming out of the mountains alone?"

I explained everything, detailing the events that brought me here. After listening, he let out a long sigh.

"Surviving such a disaster means better days are ahead. Come on, let’s get your wounds treated."

"Okay.”

I thought he’d simply support me as we walked, but instead, he scooped me up into his arms effortlessly and headed toward a car parked at the base of the mountain.

Leaning against his chest, I could hear the steady, powerful rhythm of his heartbeat. A faint blush crept onto my cheeks as I spoke shyly, "Evan, you don’t have to carry me. I can walk just fine..."

He only tightened his grip.

"The ground’s covered in weeds. I don’t want you cutting your feet."

I had no choice but to let him carry me to the car. He gently set me down in the seat and retrieved a small first-aid kit from beneath it. Pulling out a bottle of rubbing alcohol, he carefully dabbed it on my wounds with a cotton pad, his movements tender and deliberate.

"Does it hurt?"

"Not at all.”

Watching his concern for me, I clenched my arm tightly with my right hand, determined not to let the tears pooling in my eyes spill over.

The memory of my previous life hit me like a cold wave.

I remembered the early days of my marriage to Eugene. At a company gathering, the drinks kept coming, one toast after another. Concerned he might overdo it, I softly urged him to slow down.

But instead of listening, he erupted in fury and shoved me into a champagne tower in front of everyone.

The glasses came crashing down, shattering as they hit the floor. I fell into the shards, the sharp edges piercing my skin. Blood mingled with the spilled champagne, soaking me as I lay there.

I cried out in pain as the staff helped me to my feet. Staring at him in disbelief, I couldn’t understand how he could act so cruelly.

His eyes held no warmth, and his voice was as cold as ice.

"Does it hurt? Good. Because when Sharon died, there wasn’t even anything left of her. Her pain was a thousand times worse—no, a million times worse! If it weren’t for you, if you hadn’t taken her parachute, she would still be alive. Opal, this is all your fault!"

I stood there, in front of everyone, enduring his accusations as he crushed me into the dirt.

It was at that moment I realized Eugene’s love for Sharon ran deep. Marrying me had never been about love. It was all for the Cook family fortune.

I let out a bitter laugh, looking at him as if he were the biggest joke I’d ever seen.

"Eugene, do you really think all of this is my fault? The plane was sabotaged by your rivals, and the parachutes were intentionally tampered with. Yet instead of blaming them, you’re blaming me. You’re nothing but a coward!"

With that, I turned and walked away, heading to the hospital alone to tend to my injuries.

From that moment on, my relationship with Eugene hit rock bottom. He never missed a chance to belittle me in public, cutting me down whenever he could.

But now, here I was, with Evan, the friend I’d grown up with, who treated me so gently, as if afraid to hurt me. His touch was light and careful as he dressed my wounds.

Taking a deep breath, I forced my voice to sound steady.

"Thank you, Evan."

He suddenly looked up, his hand resting on my ankle, his expression serious.

"Opal, maybe you and Eugene aren’t meant to be. But the engagement between the Shaw and Cook families can still continue."

I stared at him, shocked.

"Evan, what are you trying to say?"

He pulled back his hand abruptly, slipping my shoe back on and avoiding the topic entirely.

"Nothing. Let’s get you home, all right?"

I hesitated, my chest tight with conflicting emotions. Deep down, I knew I didn’t want to go home.

My parents’ marriage was nothing more than a calculated merger, a strategic partnership that led to my existence. But after I was born, they each went on to find their real soulmates elsewhere.

Though they both agreed to leave the family assets to me, neither of them showed me any real affection.

As for Eugene, in my previous life, after we married, he never once introduced me at any formal occasion. He wouldn’t even touch me. When others asked about me, he would mock me with disdain.

Eventually, after fully taking control of both companies, he cut me off completely—no dividends, no shares, not even a monthly allowance.

So now, as Evan carefully tended to my wounds, I couldn’t resist tugging on his sleeve and whining softly.

"I don’t want to go home. Can I stay with you for a few days?"

When he didn’t immediately respond, I looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes, putting on my best pitiful expression.

In my previous life, Evan had left the country not long after this, and we hadn’t had much contact. But when he found out I was getting divorced, he returned without hesitation to help me.

Whether it was in that life or this one, he had always been there for me.

Seeing my pleading expression, Evan suddenly leaned in, his intense gaze locking on mine. His breath warmed my ear as he murmured, "Are you sure? Staying with me comes at a cost."

Startled by the sudden closeness, I instinctively stepped back. But the crisp cedarwood scent clinging to him was so intoxicating that I felt slightly dizzy.

"Yes, it doesn’t matter what the cost is.”

"Really?”

"Yes, really."

I met his gaze with determination, my tone resolute.

At that, a smile broke across his face.

For a moment, the atmosphere felt charged, almost intimate, and I thought we might actually kiss.

But then he suddenly pulled back, gently ruffling my hair.

"Remember what you said."

"Alright.”

In the end, though, I still went home.

The car sped along the road, but as we passed a gas station, I tugged on Evan’s hand, playfully asking for ice cream. That was when I saw Eugene with the rescue team he had organized.

"Opal, it’s really you! Are you okay?"

When Eugene saw me, disbelief flickered in his eyes before being replaced by obvious relief and joy.

However, I gave him only a cold glance, keeping my grip on Evan’s hand firm.

"What could possibly happen to me?"

Eugene stared at me in shock, clearly struggling to comprehend how I had survived a fall from thousands of feet in the air.