CHAPTER ONE

 Sara

 Three years. One thousand and ninety-five days.

 That was how long the world believed I had been dead.

 The grand cathedral hadn't changed at all. White roses lined the aisle in perfect symmetry, their fragrance mingling with the faint scent of expensive perfume drifting through the crowded hall.

 Crystal chandeliers hung overhead, scattering warm light across polished marble floors while the country's wealthiest families filled every seat, exchanging polite smiles and whispered gossip as they waited for the ceremony to begin. It was elegant. Luxurious. Beautiful.

 Exactly the kind of wedding Damian Blackwood deserved. I sat quietly in the third row, dressed from head to toe in black. My sunglasses hid my eyes, but not the storm raging behind them.

Three years ago, I'd left this city in flames. Today, I'd returned to burn down something far more valuable than a building. His future. My gaze drifted to the altar.

Damian stood there in a perfectly tailored black tuxedo, broad shoulders squared, his posture as commanding as ever. At thirty-two, he was still the youngest billionaire CEO in the country, a man whose name alone could make boardrooms fall silent. Success still clung to him like a second skin. But something was different.

The cold confidence that used to make him seem untouchable was still there, yet it was wrapped around an exhaustion no amount of money could hide. His face looked sharper than I remembered, as though sleep had become a stranger. The deep blue eyes I had once loved from across a dinner table now carried a quiet emptiness.

For a brief, dangerous second...

Don't.

You didn't survive to remember the good moments. You came back to remember the last one. The organ began to play. The heavy cathedral doors slowly opened, and every guest rose to their feet.

The bride appeared, breathtaking in an ivory gown embroidered with delicate crystals that shimmered beneath the lights. A long veil framed her smiling face as she walked arm in arm with her father, nervous excitement glowing in her eyes. My chest tightened.

She had no idea she was about to marry a man whose first wife had supposedly died in a tragic accident three years ago. Or maybe... She knew. Maybe she'd simply decided that billionaires came with complicated histories. The priest smiled warmly as the bride reached the altar. "We are gathered here today to witness the union of Damien Blackwood and-"

The sharp scrape of a chair cut through the cathedral.

Mine.

 The priest stopped speaking. The music died.

One by one, heads turned in my direction. I rose slowly, smoothing invisible wrinkles from my black dress before stepping into the aisle. At first, confusion flickered across the guests' faces. Then came the whispers. "Who is she?" "Is she from the bride's family?" "Why is she wearing black to a wedding?" The bride frowned, tightening her grip on her bouquet as she watched me walk toward the altar. My heels echoed steadily against the marble floor. Every step carried the weight of three stolen years. Three years of nightmares. Three years of rebuilding. Three years spent replaying the same night over and over until revenge became the only thing keeping me alive.

 Damian finally looked at me. He didn't recognize me. Why would he? The Sara he'd buried had waist-length chestnut hair that danced whenever she laughed. Mine rested just above my shoulders now. Three years had straightened my posture, hardened my expression, and erased every trace of innocence from my face. I stopped just a few feet from the altar. The silence inside the cathedral became suffocating.

The priest cleared his throat uneasily. "Miss, if there's something you'd like to discuss, perhaps this isn't the appropriate-" I reached up. Slowly. Deliberately. My fingers slid beneath the frame of my sunglasses. I removed them. The reaction was instant. A woman in the front pew gasped so loudly that several people turned toward her. Every whisper blended into the next until only one name remained. "Sara." "Mrs. Blackwood." "I attended her funeral." "So did I." "She died..." The bride looked from me to Damian, her face draining of color. "Damian...What's going on?" Her voice trembled. He never answered. He couldn't. His entire body had gone rigid. His eyes were fixed on mine, wide with complete disbelief. His lips parted. The color disappeared from his face. "...Sara." He barely breathed my name. But in the silence... Everyone heard it. For years, I'd imagined this moment. I thought watching him panic would make me feel victorious. Instead... It felt strangely empty. No. Not empty. Incomplete. Because fear wasn't enough. He needed to suffer. The same way I had. I smiled. "You forgot to invite your first wife." The bride's bouquet slipped from her fingers and hit the floor. A champagne glass shattered somewhere behind me. Guests rose from their seats, some staring at me, others staring at Damien, everyone desperately trying to understand how a dead woman had just walked into a wedding. I closed the remaining distance between us until only a few feet separated us. Up close... I could see it. He wasn't looking at me with guilt. He wasn't looking at me with anger. He looked... broken. For the smallest fraction of a second, doubt crept into my chest. Then I remembered the fire. The smoke. The explosion. The life that had been stolen from me. The doubt disappeared. Leaning forward just enough that only he could hear, I whispered, "I've come back to finish what you started." His breathing hitched. I didn't wait for a reply. I walked back down the aisle. And left behind absolute chaos. Only after the cathedral doors closed behind me did I hear it. "Cancel the wedding!" It was Damien's voice. Hoarse. Desperate. "Find her!" I smiled. Good. The game had finally begun.

CHAPTER TWO

 Damian

 Chaos consumed the cathedral within seconds. The orderly elegance that had existed only moments ago dissolved into frightened whispers and panicked questions.

My eyes remained fixed on the cathedral doors. Outside my guards searched for her frantically, but it was of no use. She was gone.

Sara...

The name echoed through my head until it became almost painful. No. That wasn't possible. I had buried her. I remembered every second of that day with terrifying clarity. The rain that refused to stop. The sound of soil striking polished wood as her coffin disappeared beneath it. I'd stood there long after everyone else had left. Long after Ethan had tried convincing me to go home. I'd buried my wife. So who had just walked into my wedding?

My breathing grew uneven as the image replayed itself again. Her black dress that molded perfectly over her curves. Her shoulder-length chestnut hair swaying gently as she walked toward me. I almost didn't recognize her. Then... Her eyes. God. Those eyes. She hadn't changed. If anything... Time had made her even more breathtaking. Her beauty no longer carried the softness of the woman I'd married.

The gentle smiles and uncertain glances had been replaced by something quieter... stronger. Then she smiled. Not with warmth. With contempt. A hand gripped my shoulder.

Ethan, my best man who watched the whole clusterfuck from the very beginning stared at me, his face almost as pale as mine. Neither of us spoke immediately. "Please tell me you saw her too." I finally said.

He placed one hand on my shoulder and sighed. "I did, but if she's alive..." Ethan said. "Where the hell has she been for three years?" I had been asking myself the same thing since she'd walked through those doors. Fuck. This wasn't how I planned my day, this wasn't how I planned my life. I never wanted to wed for a second time, but being the CEO of Blackwood Industries, I had no control over these things. My board of directors would have a field day with this. So would my uncle.

 "Damian." Michelle's voice snapped me out of my thoughts. She had removed her veil but was still wearing the wedding dress she'd spent months pretending mattered. There were no tears on her face. She followed my gaze toward the entrance before speaking quietly. "So...It really was Sara." I nodded.

Michelle managed a faint smile. She studied my face for several long seconds. I knew what she was about to ask, If I knew Sara was alive this whole time, she didn't know that if I did, absolutely nothing could have made me stand here at this altar today. But one thing Michelle did know is that I would never have feelings for her, she knows this was over before it even begun.

Before either of us could speak again, another voice interrupted. Her father. Richard Carter. His expression was thunderous. "The ceremony isn't over." "Of course it is." I said walking towards the doors calmly.

He stepped closer. "It most certainly is not."

 "So your dead wife walks into a church..." he huffed "...and suddenly you're prepared to throw away an alliance worth billions?"

"Mr. Carter..." I said evenly.

He jabbed a finger toward the entrance. "That woman was dead. We all saw the news." "And now she arrives to destroy my daughter's wedding?"

He laughed bitterly. "Or have you forgotten how she sold information to Victor Blackwood?" Michelle visibly stiffened beside her father. Richard wasn't finished. "You will honor your word and go through with this wedding, Blackwood."

I met his eyes and breathed out a laugh. "Or what? The circumstances have changed, my wife whom I thought was dead is very much alive and since I was never divorced therefore I cannot in good faith, marry your daughter. The deal will be made another way." "Now, if you'll excuse me." I said, sidestepping him.

 "You will regret this." Richard yelled in anger. "Dad." Michelle's voice cut cleanly through the tension, she ran up to me, slowly removing her engagement ring and placed it carefully into my palm. Taking a slow breath, she gave me a small smile before stepping back. The drive back to the penthouse passed in complete silence as Ethan followed me inside. Neither of us spoke as the elevator climbed toward the private residence. The doors slid open. The penthouse was exactly as I'd left it. Exactly as empty. I loosened my tie as I crossed the living room, tugging it free from around my neck before tossing it onto the sofa.

Without thinking, I walked to the bar. Crystal clinked softly beneath my fingers as I reached for the decanter. The amber scotch caught the evening light as it filled the glass. I took one slow sip. Then another. It burned all the way down. Good. Ethan watched me quietly. "You won't find answers in the bottom of that glass." "No, but it might help me think clearly." I stared at the liquid swirling inside it. I finished the drink in one swallow, and walked toward my study. The locked drawer waited exactly where I'd left it. The key turned. Inside rested the brown envelope. My fingers lingered over it. Ethan sighed. "You still keep it." "I need to." I emptied the contents across the desk. Bank records. Security reports Photographs. Every piece of evidence pointed toward the same conclusion. Sara had been meeting Victor Blackwood. My uncle. The man who had spent years trying to destroy me. I picked up one photograph. "The night I found these photographs, I buried my marriage long before I buried my wife, if I could go back in time and stopped myself from looking at them, maybe she wouldn't have faked her death for three fucking years." My voice barely rose above a whisper. Ethan looked at the papers. " Well, you can't change the past. So what are you going to do now?" I stared at Sara's smiling face on the photo.

 Then I remembered the woman in the cathedral.The hatred in her eyes. The accusation in her voice. I've come back to finish what you started. "She thinks I tried to kill her, whatever happened three years ago... I intend to uncover every last piece of it."

                           CHAPTER THREE

Sara

Blackwood Industries hadn't changed.

The glass skyscraper still towered over the city like it owned the skyline, its polished exterior reflecting the morning sun until it almost looked untouchable. Employees hurried through the revolving doors with takeaway coffees and leather briefcases.

I stepped out of the black sedan and adjusted the sleeve of my cream blazer before closing the door behind me. My heels clicked against the pavement with deliberate confidence.

People stared, the news of Damien's ghost wife already circulating. I smiled bitterly. Let them whisper. People had whispered at my funeral too. The revolving doors parted, cool air rushed over my skin as I stepped into the marble lobby. The receptionist behind the front desk looked up automatically, offering the practiced smile reserved for visitors. The smile disappeared almost instantly. Her eyes widened. "Mrs... Mrs. Blackwood?"

 I removed my sunglasses slowly, hooking them onto the neckline of my blouse. "I see you still remember me, Vanessa." Her lips parted, but no sound came out.

Three years ago, Vanessa had never bothered hiding how much she disliked me. To her, I was nothing more than the ordinary woman who had somehow convinced the city's most eligible billionaire to marry her. It used to bother me. Vanessa finally found her voice but I was already walking past her. "Mr. Blackwood is in a board meeting."

"That's fine."

 "You'll need an appointment."

 "No, I won't." I laughed.

 She hurried around the reception desk, placing herself directly in my path. "You can't just walk into the CEO's office."

I looked at her. Just long enough for her confidence to begin crumbling. "Move."

 The single word landed between us with surprising weight. Then, she stepped aside. I smiled as I walked past her. "Good decision." Behind me, I heard her scrambling for the telephone. No doubt to warn him. Perfect. The executive floor was exactly as I remembered. . Everything screamed Damian. As I approached the double doors leading to the boardroom, voices drifted through the thick wood. "...the Carter merger will stabilize the international expansion."

 I didn't bother knocking. The doors swung open. Silence fell instantly. Every head turned toward me. Around the long conference table sat nearly twenty executives, all frozen in varying degrees of disbelief. And at the head of the table...Damian.

He looked up in front of him. His eyes locked onto mine, and for a long moment neither of us moved. His gaze drifted over me slowly the way he always used to do, some things never changed.

 My husband had the power to strip me naked with his gaze no matter where we were. His eyes lingered on my face, studying every familiar feature and then something flickered across his expression. I folded my arms. "Finished staring?"

A few executives exchanged uncomfortable glances. Damien blinked once, suddenly aware of our surroundings. "Everyone out." Chairs scraped across the polished floor as executives gathered laptops and files with almost comical urgency.

He was the first to speak. Sara..." His voice cracked on my name. "How are you alive?..." He rubbed a hand over his face. " And yesterday, you just disappeared again, I searched for you everywhere."

I let out a quiet laugh. "You looked for me?" He nodded. "And was this before your wedding night..." I looked him up and down."... or after?" He took a step towards me. "I didn't marry her." I scoffed, taking another step back before he trapped me again. "Well, you should have, after all she seems like your type."

His eyes never left mine. "Where have you been?"

I ignored him. Instead, I wandered casually around the boardroom, trailing my fingertips across the back of one leather chair before stopping beside the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. "The view is still impressive." I said.

 "Sara." The warning in his voice only made me smile. He came even closer. "Answer me."

 I turned to face him. "You have some nerve to even ask me that!" I said, exasperated.

"I've been somewhere you couldn't finish the job."

His composure cracked, he was angry now. In one swift motion, he stormed towards me, realizing I wouldn't step back again, he stopped himself. "Enough." "I never tried to kill you." I laughed again.

Hearing him deny it was almost insulting. "You really expect me to believe that?"

"We ended badly." He swallowed. "Worse than badly." "But I would never try to hurt you. Never, you have to believe me." He looked distressed. "And did you believe me, when I begged and cried that I was telling you the truth?" His expression darkened.

"Even now, you still wouldn't believe me, so why should I, huh?." I pointed a finger at him. "My father died believing his only daughter had burned to death."

 He lowered his head, closing his eyes for the briefest moment. "I know. I was there."

 "Don't you dare pretend you cared." I swallowed the lump rising in my throat. "I wasn't there for his last moments, because I was stuck at a hospital with tubes and wires sticking out of me."

"I'm sorry." He said quietly.

 I smiled bitterly moving out of his way once again. "If you think I'm here because I want an apology..." I shook my head slowly.

"...then you've learned nothing about me."

He frowned. "Then why are you here?" I held his gaze for several long seconds.

 "To watch you lose everything." His breathing hitched. "And this time..." I picked up my sunglasses from the table and slid them back on. "I'll make sure you're alive to see it."

Without another word, I turned and walked toward the door. My heels echoed through the silent boardroom. I didn't look back. I could feel his eyes following me all the way out. Outside, the elevator doors closed, shutting out Blackwood Industries and the man I'd once believed I could build a life with. Only then did I allow myself a slow breath. The revenge had begun. But the truth was... Walking back into his life had hurt far more than I'd expected. Because despite everything... A small, foolish part of me had hated seeing the confusion in his eyes. It almost looked genuine. I closed my eyes briefly as the elevator descended. No. I wasn't here to question myself.

Three years ago, that explosion had taken more than my marriage. It had taken my father. My home. My identity. Everything I had ever called mine. Someone had made sure the world believed Sara Blackwood died in that fire. And for three years... I had let them believe it. Now... The waiting was over. All that was left was revenge.