Morning rays streamed into the master bedroom, dancing on polished floors and pristine walls that belonged to a life Aria never imagined living --being someone's wife.. begging not to be divorced because she's penniless.
She stood by the window, arms folded, watching the sleek black car that had just driven Sebastian away.
Her expression remained calm, but her heart drummed with quiet determination.
Three months. That's what she'd been given. Three months to rewrite her fate and gain control over her life...not forgetting to make her cold husband not to divorce her.
She pushed away from the window and headed toward the closet , her mind already formulating the first steps of her plan. Clothes were more than fabric — they were armor. If she was going to be taken seriously in this world, she needed to look the part of someone who couldn't be discarded so easily.
Aria's gaze swept over Elena's previous wardrobe with faint amusement. Ball gowns, shimmering dresses, extravagant evening wear — things that only made sense in fairytales, not real life.
"Elena, you dressed like you were playing princess at a costume party," she muttered to herself, pushing aside a gaudy red gown embroidered with oversized gems. "No wonder no one took you seriously."
Eventually, she found a pair of plain sneakers " thank heavens " , and threw them on along with the simple leggings and hoodie she had put on earlier. Her hair she tied into a sleek ponytail — easy, effortless.
Her reflection smirked back at her from the mirror. She looked nothing like the desperate, dimwitted wife everyone had known.
" That's good… keep them confused. Keep them guessing ".
She grabbed a credit card she found lying in a random purse—at least Elena's spending privileges hadn't been cut off yet—and walked out of the bedroom.
As she made her way downstairs, the staff looked up, clearly startled by her appearance. No fussy hair, no heavy makeup, no high heels… just casual, comfortable confidence.
The butler—an older man who had clearly mastered the art of being invisible—hesitated before speaking.
"Madam… are you… heading out?"
"Yes," Aria said simply, "to the mall. I need new clothes."
The man blinked, clearly expecting something more extravagant or nonsensical, but Aria had no interest in explaining herself.
"I'll drive myself," she added firmly, cutting off any protests before they could start.
It was time to start standing on her own two feet — or at least give off that illusion.
---
An Hour Later — Downtown Luxury District
Aria moved from boutique to boutique, weaving through rows of tailored blazers, silk blouses, power suits, and elegant but functional dresses. She ignored the glittering evening gowns and instead focused on pieces that radiated strength — sharp cuts, muted colors, and sophisticated simplicity.
The store attendants, used to Elena Moore's flashy, superficial preferences, whispered behind her back as they noticed the shift.
" Let them whisper. Let them be confused. Soon, they'd understand " Elena thought.
After several hours, Aria left with a refreshed wardrobe — casual but sleek outfits, professional attire, and a few commanding formal dresses that spoke of quiet authority, not childish luxury. She even stopped by the accessories section, grabbing a few watches and handbags that exuded power without being obnoxious.
But clothes were just the surface.
As she sipped on a cup of coffee in a quiet café, Aria pulled out her phone — a luxury model — and began her next task: information gathering.
She needed to understand this Elena's connections. She needed to know the names of people who mocked her, the networks within the Hart family, and most importantly, who was responsible for her own death back in her former life.
Her fingers moved quickly.
Emails. Contacts. Social media accounts. Family trees. Company holdings.
And then… she found it.
An old contact in Elena's chat history—Lucia Green—a gossip-hungry socialite who frequented every high-profile event.
Aria's lips curled into a sly smile. A starting point.
---
By the time Aria returned home in the afternoon, her arms were weighed down by bags, her phone loaded with fresh contacts --trusted contacts from her previous life, and her mind brimming with strategies.
But as she stepped into the grand estate, her eyes flickered to the lavish halls, the cold decor, and the lifeless air of the house.
This wasn't a home.
It was a battleground.
Her expression darkened.
As she headed upstairs, her gaze landed on the untouched divorce papers sitting silently on the bedside table, a grim reminder of the man who wanted her out of his life.
Aria walked up to them, fingers trailing along the edges of the papers before she pushed them aside.
She was not leaving. She wouldn't let herself be discarded like a broken toy.
Sebastian Hart, the cold billionaire who looked at her like a nuisance, would soon realize just how foolish it was to underestimate her. She wasn't here to be a doting, timid wife — she was here to survive, thrive, and rule.
And if that meant slowly making the man fall for her, or at least securing a place in his world long enough to gather power, so be it.
Her hand brushed the smooth wood of the dresser as her reflection stared back at her in quiet confidence.
First, I'll earn money. Then, I'll gather allies.
And eventually… I'll take back everything that was stolen from me.
Her lips lifted in a determined smile.
The first move had been made.
And Aria—no, Elena Moore—was done playing weak.
This was just the beginning.