Amara woke with a scream trapped in her lungs, her body thrashing against invisible binds. Her eyes flew open to the soft morning light filtering through familiar curtains. This wasn't the sterile white of a hospital room, nor the suffocating black of the grave she'd thought she'd found. This was her bedroom. Her sanctuary, now a haunted space.
The blood. The cheers. Julian's face, not loving, but victorious, right before the world exploded.
She curled into a ball, clutching her chest, where the phantom pain of betrayal still burned, a searing brand. Tears welled, hot and stinging, blurring the edges of the familiar mahogany dresser, the stack of unread novels, the half-packed box she remembered. They took everything. My family's legacy. My future. My life. The raw, crushing weight of it all threatened to suffocate her.
She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting for air. The images flashed behind her eyelids: the glittering ballroom, the flash of light, the sickening lurch as the chandelier crashed, a symphony of screams. Her last breath, ragged and cold, tasted of iron and shattered dreams. She remembered Julian's eyes, distant and cold, not filled with grief, but with a chilling satisfaction. A single, silent whisper in the chaos, from a face she recognized but couldn't place, "It's done. The shares are ours."
No. It wasn't just Julian. He was too weak. Too petty for something so grand, so devastating.
A flicker. A tiny ember in the overwhelming darkness. She was here. She was alive. And she knew. The foresight. The names. A gasp tore through her. It wasn't a nightmare. It was a second chance. The date on her phone, glowing innocently on the nightstand, confirmed it: May 15th, one year ago. The day before the final, irreversible steps of her past life began.
They didn't just kill me. They butchered my family's name. They stole everything my parents worked for.
The pain in her chest morphed into something sharp, cold, and utterly lethal. Elias Sterling. The name echoed in her mind like a death knell. The Sterling Group. They were the vultures, circling, always circling. She remembered the subtle pressures, the manipulated reports, the sudden downturns that had forced her father to make desperate choices. Then came Victoria Thorne, her father's trusted second-in-command, the woman who had patted Amara's head and offered comfort, all while dissecting their family's empire from the inside out.
Victoria Thorne. The viper in the garden.
Amara pushed herself upright, the trembling in her limbs slowly giving way to a nascent strength. The fragility of her second chance fueled an unexpected surge of power. No more tears. No more fear. She wouldn't just survive. She would rise from the ashes and burn their world to the ground. She was no longer a victim. She was a phoenix.
But a phoenix needs fuel. And allies.
Her mind, still reeling from the shock of rebirth, began to sift through the fragments of her knowledge from the future. The Sterling Group was too powerful to tackle alone. Elias Sterling was a phantom, his hands never directly touching the instruments of destruction. Victoria Thorne was a master manipulator, leaving no fingerprints. She needed leverage. She needed power.
She needed a weapon.
A name surfaced, a cold, sharp blade in the murky waters of her memory: Lucien Kane. The enigmatic billionaire CEO. In her past life, she'd only known him through hushed whispers in boardrooms, his name synonymous with ruthless ambition and untouchable wealth. She'd heard fleeting rumors, too, of his familial struggles, particularly whispers about an archaic clause in his grandfather's will. Something about marriage. Something about losing control of his empire if he didn't comply.
A contract marriage. A loveless arrangement for a man who seemed to embody lovelessness.
It had been gossip then, irrelevant to her crumbling world. Now, it was a lifeline. A potential path. He needed a wife. She needed power. It was a transaction she was willing to make. He might be cold-hearted, but he wasn't Elias Sterling. He wasn't Victoria Thorne. He was a means to an end. A king on a chessboard, ready to be maneuvered for her ultimate checkmate.
She swung her legs off the bed, her bare feet hitting the cool wooden floor. The world felt solid beneath her, tangible in a way it hadn't for a long, long time. This wasn't a dream. This was a second chance. And she wouldn't waste a single moment. Her first step. What would it be? She needed information. She needed to verify everything she remembered.
Her gaze fell on her old laptop, a relic from a simpler time. It contained files, old emails, and scattered notes from her father's final, desperate attempts to save their company. Documents she'd dismissed as ramblings in her past life. Now, there were clues. A roadmap to the Sterling Group's treachery.
She reached for it, her fingers trembling slightly, but with anticipation, not fear. The screen flickered to life, casting a pale glow on her determined face. This time, she would not beg for love or trust sweet promises. She would rewrite her fate. With fire. And it started now.
Her silent agenda: revenge.
The first crucial email, a cryptic message from her father to a trusted old colleague, loaded on the screen. It spoke of "irregularities" and "unseen forces." A name was mentioned: "Arthur Thorne." Arthur Thorne. The name echoed in her mind, a sudden, chilling connection. He was Lucien Kane's biggest corporate rival, the man trying to usurp his empire due to that very succession clause. Could he be connected to Victoria? To Elias? The web was far more tangled than she first imagined. Her revenge has just found its first thread.