My gaze followed him.

A girl in a white dress stood with her back to me, chatting and laughing with a group of friends.

As if sensing eyes on her, she turned.

Our gazes locked.

My hand flew to my mouth to stifle a gasp.

*How?*

How could there be someone in this world who looked exactly like me?

She froze for a split second.

Her eyes raked over me. Up. Down.

Then her lips curled into a disdainful, icy smile.

She turned her back on me and walked away.

I hitched up the hem of my gown and ran after her.

"Wait! Please, wait a moment!"

The girl quickened her pace.

"Wait—*ah!*"

My heel slipped. My knees slammed into the floor.

I tried to scramble up, but the floor lurched beneath me.

I hadn't slipped.

The building was shaking.

"Why is there a timer here?!" someone screamed.

"Oh god! It's a bomb!"

Panic erupted around me, but I couldn't focus on the screams. The girl was already heading up the stairs.

"Wait!"

I stumbled across the trembling floor, desperate to catch her.

A sickening *creak* echoed from the ceiling.

"Stop running! Look out!"

"The chandelier! It's falling!"

My eyes stayed locked on the girl's retreating figure. "Wait! I just have two questions!"

"Nora!"

A massive force slammed into me from the side.

Brandon tackled me, his arms wrapping around my body as we rolled across the fracturing granite.

*CRASH!*

The crystal chandelier shattered exactly where I'd been standing a second ago, smashing a crater into the floor.

Before I could speak, a violent tremor tore through the building.

I screamed.

Immediately, I was engulfed in a solid, protective embrace.

Brandon shielded me with his body.

Just like before.

When the tremors subsided, he dragged me out of the building and onto the pavement. He collapsed over me, kneeling, pinning me to the ground.

Warm blood from his forehead dripped onto my cheek, mixing with the ash in the air.

His teeth clenched. His face twisted with fury.

"Are you *crazy?*"

For a moment, I was back in the car wreck.

Him hovering over me. Blocking the danger. Refusing to let our bodies touch more than necessary.

"Bran—"

"Fire! Hurry, put out the fire! There are people still inside!"

The screams of the survivors shattered the moment.

Brandon went rigid.

Ignoring his injuries, he staggered to his feet.

His eyes darted frantically across the crowd of evacuees, scanning, searching.

Panic seized him. His eyes turned bloodshot.

He spun around and sprinted back toward the burning building.

"Brandon!"

I tried to chase him, but security guards grabbed my arms, holding me back.

Brandon's silhouette disappeared into the wall of smoke and fire.

"Brandon!!" I screamed.

My legs gave out.

The roar of the flames and the cracking of timber threatened to swallow my sanity.

"Miss, you can't go in!" The guard's grip tightened. "We'll stop Mr. Mason. The building is sealed off!"

"Sealed off..."

Tears streamed down my face. "Then... can the people inside still get out?"

"In this situation..." The guard grimaced. "Those who didn't make it out... they're likely gone."

My knees buckled completely. The guard had to hold me upright.

That meant... that girl...

"Nora Thomas!"

The voice cut through the chaos.

My head snapped up.

Brandon Mason was walking toward me. Soot and blood smeared his face.

"Brandon! You—"

*Smack!*

The force of his hand whipped my head to the side.

The slap silenced the "Are you okay?" on the tip of my tongue.

"It was you, wasn't it?" He roared, his voice shaking with rage. "You followed me here on purpose! You set this up to kill her!"

In our five years of miserable marriage in the past life, he had never laid a hand on me.

Now, he looked ready to tear me apart, straining against the security guards struggling to restrain him.

I clutched my stinging cheek and stared at him.

He looked at me with pure, unadulterated hatred.

Like I was a stranger.

Like I was a monster.

"What makes you think that?" The words scraped past the tightness in my throat.

"Your father manufactures ballistics." Brandon's lip curled. "Among everyone at that meeting, you were the only one with access to that specific type of blasting device."

Heat seared behind my eyes. The room blurred.

"And another thing..."

He shoved past the security guards. One step. Two. Each footfall closed the distance between us like a death knell.

"You usually fly into a rage if I so much as speak to another woman." His voice dripped venom. "Yet *you* went to see her? *You*, of all people, initiated a meeting to call off our engagement?"

"Brandon—"

A short, broken laugh escaped him. His eyes were bloodshot, raw—a mirror of the agony ripping through my chest.

"I was a fool. I actually thought you were capable of kindness." He let out another hollow sound. "I personally brought you—her murderer—right to her doorstep."

The laugh came again. Then his hand connected with his own face.

*Crack.*

The sound ricocheted off the walls.

"Now there's no one left between us. I'm going to bind you to me for the rest of my life." His voice dropped to something lethal. "Is that what you wanted? Are you happy now?"

"Brandon!"

The tears finally broke free, streaking hot and fast down my cheeks.

He didn't look back. He turned on his heel, staggering slightly—as if grief itself had settled across his shoulders like a physical weight—and walked away.

Blood dripped from his sleeve. A crimson trail on the pavement.

A souvenir from the chandelier that had sliced him when he shielded me from the blast.

---

A memorial wall rose from the ruins.

Her photo sat at the center, surrounded by flowers. Brandon stood before it.

From a distance, I watched him place a bouquet of white chrysanthemums beneath her picture. My feet stayed rooted to the ground. I didn't dare call out to him until his car had disappeared around the corner.

I had truly wanted those two to be together.

During the investigation, I'd exhausted every resource trying to find background information on her. But there had been nothing. No paper trail. No history. She had died before a single clue could surface.

Whether for Brandon or for me, "The One That Got Away" had become an unsolvable riddle.

Sealed by death.

I returned home in a daze.

For three days, food wouldn't stay down. My stomach churned with acid and guilt, hollowing me out from the inside.

On the fourth night, Dad knocked on my door. A bowl of seafood porridge steamed in his hands.

"Drink this." His voice was gentle but firm. "Then I'll tell you the truth about that girl."

My head lifted. The words felt distant, muffled. "She's already dead, Dad. What I wanted to do... it's impossible now."

Brandon would hate me forever. The debt of a saved life and the regrets of a past lifetime could never be repaid.

"I don't think she's dead."

The air vanished from my lungs.

I forced myself to finish the porridge. Dad sat with me for another half hour before leaving. The moment the door closed behind him, I stood.

My subordinate was waiting in the hallway.

I handed him a slip of paper with an address. "Go. Bring her back."

"Yes, Miss Thomas."

I watched him walk away. A solitary tear slipped down my cheek.

If Dad was right...

Then I hoped, this time, those two could finally be together properly.

---

The forensic results came back not long after.

A contract killing. Someone had hired a hitman to eliminate a business rival and bribed the stage crew to bury explosives during the venue setup.

I was innocent.

Brandon came to see me.

I refused.

He begged my father. Desperate. Pleading. Until he was finally allowed to stand outside my door. He didn't dare ask to come in. Instead, he spoke through the wood paneling, his voice thick with something I almost didn't recognize.

Remorse.

"It was me. I didn't distinguish right from wrong. I blamed you because I lost my mind with grief." A pause. "I'm sorry."

Silence stretched between us.

"Your face... is it healing?"

I stayed quiet, my forehead pressed against the cool surface of the door.

"She's gone," he continued. His voice cracked. "And I've given up. In this life, as long as you're willing, I will play the role of a devoted husband. If you regret marrying me, I will leave with nothing."

Another pause.

"Consider it... my atonement for that slap."

He had come to apologize.

But beneath the sincerity, I heard it. The thing he couldn't hide.

Resignation. Regret.

We had grown up together. I knew every cadence of his voice.

How could I not hear it?

A heavy sigh echoed from the other side of the door.

His footsteps retreated, fading into the distance.

I yanked the door open.

Empty. The hallway stretched before me, hollow and silent. He was already gone.

Tears slid down my face, cold and unbidden. A bitter laugh escaped my throat.

"Don't worry, Brandon." My voice was barely a whisper. "The wedding dress has already been altered to her size. You won't have any regrets in this life."

My subordinate materialized beside me, a document in hand. "Miss Thomas, the marriage contract from the Gu family. President Thomas said he will only sign if you agree."

"Sign it."

The words came out flat. Dead.

I looked in the direction Brandon had disappeared. I didn't ask about the Gu family. Didn't ask which heir I was being sold to.

It didn't matter anymore.

---

Before the ceremony began, Brandon stood staring at that girl's photo.

My subordinate had to urge him twice before he finally tore his gaze away. Reluctantly, he tossed the photo into the trash can—a symbolic gesture of moving on.

He pushed open the chapel doors.

The girl's smiling face was hidden beneath a veil, waiting for him. He knew exactly how Nora Thomas smiled. He held no expectations.

His heart was dead ash.

He stepped up to the altar. Casually lifted the veil.

His hand froze mid-air.

Ice flooded his veins.

"You... you're not dead?"

The girl leaned shyly into his arms, her eyes darting around. "I... I jumped from the building that day and fainted. I couldn't contact you while I was recovering. I'm so sorry~"

"Where is Nora?"

He shoved her away. His voice rose to a shout.

"Older sister..." she stammered.

She couldn't—or wouldn't—answer.

Brandon turned and sprinted out of the chapel.

He dialed my number with trembling fingers.

*No answer.*

He floored the gas pedal, ignoring the girl in the wedding dress chasing after him, screaming his name.

"Nora Thomas! What the hell are you doing?!"