My fiancé fell in love with a mute woman who saved his life and wanted to break off our engagement.

I kindly advised her, “The Harlow family isn’t easy to be part of. You might want to reconsider.”

The mute woman, feeling insulted, took poison and ended her life.

Ten years later, Victor Harlow, after taking full control of the family conglomerate, did one thing: destroyed the Grant family and came for my life.

“This is the debt you owe Yvonne.”

When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to my 23rd birthday banquet.

The patriarch, William Harlow, asked me what I wished for.

“Since Victor and Yvonne are deeply in love, please let this 'perfect couple' be together.”

I died on an unbearably cold winter night.

I thought I could hold on until the warmth of spring returned, but Victor Harlow didn’t have the patience to wait.

Without anesthetic, the scalpel cut into my chest, inch by inch, blood gushing like a spring.

And yet, his hatred wasn’t satisfied.

He raised his arm, driving the icy blade straight into my heart.

The excruciating pain nearly suffocated me.

Struggling, I gasped out a question, “Why?”

I truly couldn’t understand.

We grew up together, childhood sweethearts from families with generations of close ties.

For so many years, my father supported the Harlow Corporation, paving the way for his rise to power.

Even after he gained full control of the company, we never once sought to exploit him.

But he manipulated the stock market, fabricated scandals, and forced the Grant family to ruin.

“Why, Victor?” I desperately clutched his tie.

Victor glared at me with burning hatred. Though he was the one killing me, his expression was as if I had betrayed him.

“This is what you and your family owe Yvonne.”

He leaned down, his voice colder than the winter wind outside the window.

Yvonne?

Yvonne Sullivan?

The memory was so distant it took me a moment to recall that name and that delicate, pitiful face.

A bitter laugh escaped me.

It had been ten years.

Victor had never forgotten her.

He had pinned her death on me and the entire Grant family.

“Victor, you’re such a—”

Fool.

Before I could finish the final word, Victor pulled the scalpel from my chest.

Crimson blood gushed out, blurring my vision.

The pain was unbearable.

…

“Miss, are you having another headache?”

There was no icy, damp cellar, and no howling winds surrounding me.

Instead, the room was a haven of warmth and elegance, alive with the soft clinking of glasses and the hum of lively conversation.

Outside the window, neon lights flickered, and the city pulsed with life.

I stood on the terrace of a luxurious hotel, overlooking this sleepless metropolis.

This was my 23rd birthday party.

I had been reborn.

Not only was I alive and well, but I had returned to ten years ago.

This was the year the Grant Corporation had just completed a major international acquisition and successfully gone public.

This was the year I had yet to become Victor’s wife.

“Isn’t it enough to give anyone a headache?”

A snide voice came from behind me.

“After all, Mr. Harlow has spent the last three days publicly declaring in the media that he’s breaking off the engagement with the Grant family.”

I stopped my assistant, Emily, from speaking up in my defense.

The situation was far more complicated than a broken engagement.

This was the year Victor, during a rural inspection trip, had a car accident and fell off a cliff. He was saved by a young village girl.

The girl was delicate and beautiful.

In her panic to save him, she accidentally consumed a poisonous herb and lost her voice.

Moved by her sacrifice, Victor brought her back to the Harlow estate.

As of today, he had spent three consecutive days making public declarations through the media.

He was determined to marry her.

He wanted her to be the future Mrs. Harlow, the wife of the company's leader.

“Miss, don’t listen to the rumors. You and Mr. Harlow have known each other since childhood. After so many years of being together…”

I gently shook my head, declining Emily’s attempt to console me.

I already knew what she was going to say.

Three days ago, I woke up in the Grant mansion.

Three days were enough to piece together everything from my past and present lives.

“Miss Mia,” Emily suddenly whispered excitedly, “Mr. Harlow is here.”

I turned around and saw Victor, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, striding confidently through the crowd with an air of authority.

The murmurs around me vanished in an instant.

Victor and I had grown up together, childhood friends bound by years of shared history.

Our engagement had been arranged early on by our families to solidify their business partnership.

As kids, he was always the first to defend me whenever someone dared to speak ill of me.

When he got in trouble at home, I was the one who pleaded for him.

Until now, no one would have doubted that I was his one true love and his destined future wife.

But today, at my 23rd birthday party, he brought another woman with him.

Yvonne stood beside him, dressed in an expensive gown and wearing delicate makeup. Yet, it looked as if she was trying to fit into a role that didn’t belong to her.

She clung tightly to Victor’s arm, seeking his protection.

Victor leaned down to whisper something in her ear, his gaze full of affection.

When Yvonne looked at me, her expression shifted to one of fear and unease.

Slowly, she stepped forward.

With a soft thud, she dropped to her knees before me.

How familiar this scene was.

Even the tear clinging to the corner of her eye, ready to fall at just the right moment, was exactly the same.

In my previous life, I had been completely fooled by this act of fragility. I had even gone so far as to genuinely help her and Victor plan their future together.

As the heiress of the Grant family, I didn’t need Victor to define my worth.

Sure, her presence had stung, but it was never enough to make me lose my composure.

When Victor announced his intention to break off our engagement, I didn’t create a scene.

Out of respect for our years of friendship, I simply gave a few sincere words of advice, “Miss Sullivan is new to Ashford, has no connections here, and has lost her voice. Saving your life won't automatically guarantee her the coveted role of the Harlow family's future matriarch. Even if you persuade the board, the family patriarch, Mr. William will never agree. It might only bring her trouble.

“Victor, why not take a step back? Let her start in the company as an intern for now. In the future…”

I left my point hanging deliberately, “After all, the future will be up to you to decide, won’t it?”

Those few words resolved the immediate crisis for her but brought disaster upon me.

…

Smack! Smack! Smack!

In my past life, the moment Yvonne dropped to her knees, I rushed forward to help her up.

This time, I stood still, watching coldly as she delivered several sharp slaps to her own face without hesitation.

One after another, the sound rang out crisply in the air.

Emily tugged at my sleeve, her eyes filled with concern.

Tonight’s event was packed with guests, and several people had already pulled out their phones, aiming them in our direction, eager to capture the drama.

Emily wanted to step in and stop her.

I rested a hand on hers lightly.

“What’s the rush?” I murmured.

“Yvonne!” Victor’s expression had darkened, a flicker of discomfort in his eyes.

In mere seconds, Yvonne’s cheeks were swollen red.

Paired with the tears welling in her eyes, she painted a pitiful figure.

She glanced at Victor, then turned her gaze to me, biting her lip as if torn between despair and guilt, only to continue her self-punishment.

I took a sip of my wine, unhurried and composed.

A curious thought crossed my mind—how far was she willing to take this performance?

Yes.

Yvonne was putting up a show.

Her muteness was an act. Her innocent, delicate demeanor was also an act. Even her "suicide by poisoning" in my past life was just another act.

Outside the door of a private lounge in an exclusive club, I had overheard her speaking in her true voice, clear and sharp.

Sobbing, she begged a doctor, “Doctor, I’m just a helpless, pitiful girl. Without resorting to a little self-sacrifice, how could I possibly get accepted into the Harlow family? Please, give me something to induce a brief state of shock!

“Doctor, I truly love Mr. Harlow. Given my background, becoming his lover would elevate my social standing. Even though he already promised to marry me, I still believe I need to take things further to ensure he always feels guilty toward me. Please, help me!

“If I can fake my death just once, Mr. Harlow will spend the rest of his life believing he owes me everything!”

What a clever scheme.

She didn't just deceive Victor and me; the entire Ashford social elite fell for her ruse.

I once asked Victor why he was so deeply infatuated with Yvonne.

“I’ve been the heir to the Harlow family since I was a child. Everyone flatters me, curries favor with me. They respect and admire me only because of my status as the Harlow family heir.

“Even you, Mia. If I weren’t the Harlow heir, would you still have feelings for me?”

His words left me speechless at that time.

If he weren’t the Harlow heir, there wouldn’t have been an engagement between us. We wouldn’t have grown up together. How could there even be a question of love?

“But Yvonne, she was willing to risk her life for me before she even knew who I was. How could I not be moved by such pure love?”

For a moment, I almost believed him.

As the heiress of a prominent family, I had always been calculating and pragmatic.

I had to consider my parents, my family, and my responsibilities. I certainly wouldn’t risk my life for anyone on a whim.

But we all overlooked another possibility.

Even if Victor had been unconscious from the car accident, the custom-tailored suit and Patek Philippe watch he was wearing would have been more than enough to show his wealth and status.

Whether he was a trust-fund heir, a business tycoon, or a corporate successor, it wouldn’t have mattered.

Yvonne had made up her mind from the very beginning.

She was going to climb the social ladder, and Victor was her ticket to the top.

“Enough!” Victor suddenly barked, his voice sharp and commanding.

The room fell silent.

Yvonne flinched, her whole body trembling, before cautiously lifting her head to meet my gaze with wide, tear-filled eyes.

Her message couldn’t have been clearer.

She had destroyed my engagement, made me the laughingstock of the city, and now she was consumed with guilt.

If I didn’t speak up, she wouldn’t stop her little act.

Perfect.

I arched a brow and sipped my champagne, silently urging her to continue.

Biting her lip, Yvonne hesitated for a moment before bending down, ready to slap herself again.

Victor strode forward suddenly, and with a loud crash, he slapped the champagne glass right out of my hand.

“Mia Grant, don’t go too far! Have you no sense of decency?”

Victor’s cold eyes burned with anger as he glared at me.

He turned to Yvonne, gently helping her to her feet and brushing his hand over her swollen, tear-streaked face with tender care.

“Mia, apologize. Do it now, in front of everyone, and this matter will be over. I won’t hold it against you.”

I nearly burst out laughing.

Looking back, I was far too naive.

When I uncovered Yvonne’s scheme, I immediately sent Victor a detailed message, explaining everything I had witnessed.

I warned him to be cautious of Yvonne.

The next day, news broke that Yvonne had “died from poisoning.”

But it wasn’t fake this time.

She was really dead.

The media went into a frenzy, claiming she had taken her own life, unable to handle the public backlash.

Victor left me a voice message, “Thank you for the warning, Miss Grant. Anyone who dares deceive me will pay the price.”

And just like that, the matter seemed resolved.

For years, I assumed he had confronted Yvonne and forced her to take the real poison.

After all, he was a man who always sought revenge.

It wasn’t until the moment of my own death that I learned the truth.

The “deceiver” he spoke of?

It was me.

“Mia Grant, did you hear me?” Victor’s voice cut through my thoughts.

“Yvonne did nothing wrong. It was my decision to marry her. I, Victor Harlow, am ending our engagement.”

I stared at him, a bitter smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.

I must have been blind.

All these years, I thought he was a level-headed business genius.

“Emily, the heads of the four leading families are all in the VIP suite upstairs, right?”

Emily blinked, startled, then nodded hesitantly.

Lifting the hem of my gown, I strode toward the elevator.

Victor followed closely behind.

“What are you planning to do?”

“Mr. William and the others came here privately tonight; they didn’t announce their presence.”

Of course, I knew that.