On the eve of our wedding, the yacht my fiancé was on capsized. He was officially declared dead. I cried until I almost passed out. Reeling from grief, I walked onto the street in a daze and was hit by a speeding car. As my life slipped away, I heard my fiancé’s best friend making a phone call: “Ethan, you need to get back from Switzerland right now! Chloe just got into a horrific car accident!” The sound of a glass shattering came through the line, followed by my sister’s whiny crying: “Ethan, you promised you’d stay in Switzerland with me for a year! You can’t leave!” It turned out my fiancé wasn’t dead. He had faked his death just to run off to Switzerland and be with my sister, Lily. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the very day Ethan “died.” Two weeks later. The news of my engagement to Julian Harrington, the sole heir of the Harrington empire, spread like wildfire through high society. Luke, the “loyal” friend who had helped Ethan orchestrate his fake death, rushed over to confront me, his face pale with anger. “Chloe, Ethan just passed away! How could you be so desperate to throw yourself into another man’s arms?” I looked at him, my voice cold and dry. “He’s dead, Luke. Am I supposed to rot in a grave with him, or am I allowed to actually live my life?”
The words of that phone call from my past life were burned into my soul. Dragging my legs, which felt like lead, I followed my raw instinct that the truth was waiting for me. I walked toward the glass conservatory in the backyard of the estate. The glass door was slightly ajar. Inside, a voice I knew all too well drifted out, dripping with casual amusement. “Is my funeral over yet?” The voice was coming from Luke’s phone on speaker. “Not yet, Ethan,” Luke replied with a chuckle. “How’s Chloe? She hasn’t suspected anything, has she?” Luke laughed. “Not a chance. She’s running herself ragged organizing your memorial. Yesterday, she almost fainted from crying so hard. She’s probably locked in her room weeping right now.” Ethan’s tone was entirely dismissive. “Good. Do me a favor and comfort her a bit.” Another friend, Mason, chimed in. “Seriously though, Ethan. You must really be head over heels for Lily. Faking your own death just to chase her to Switzerland? You even made us play along with this crazy stunt.” It was word for word, exactly like the conversation from my previous life. I gripped the cold iron railing outside the greenhouse so hard my knuckles turned white. My entire body trembled with rage. I heard Ethan speak again: “Mind your own business about my feelings. Just make sure she doesn’t find out.” Luke asked, “So, are you still going through with the wedding when you get back?” “Of course. Once I return, the wedding goes on as planned. But before I tie myself down, you’ve got to let me have one last wild ride for true love, right?” “Haha, true. Once you’re married, you’re locked down. No more freedom. Enjoy it, man!” The three of them laughed, a sickening, conspiratorial sound. My blood turned to pure ice. I had prayed a thousand times for Ethan’s survival in my past life, but I never imagined the truth would be this disgusting. In my past life, I died in the depths of this despair. But this time, I didn’t barge in to scream at them. I turned around quietly and walked away from the greenhouse. In the bathroom, I dry-heaved into the sink for what felt like hours. I looked at the woman in the mirror. I hadn’t slept in days. My eyes were bloodshot, my face pale and hollow. I splashed freezing water onto my face and wiped away the tear stains. This time, I would not be their puppet. When I walked out of the room, Luke handed me some tissues, his face a perfect mask of sympathy. “Chloe, don’t be too hard on yourself. Ethan is looking down on you from heaven. He wouldn’t want to see you like this.” I looked up at his hypocritical face. “Luke… do you think there’s any chance Ethan is still alive?” Luke’s eyes flickered with panic for a split second before he quickly regained his composure. “H-how is that possible? The search and rescue team recovered his personal belongings from the ocean. You saw them yourself.” A week ago, Ethan’s private yacht had lost contact in the bay. The coast guard concluded he was swept away by a sudden swell while attempting to abandon the malfunctioning vessel. I had stayed at the harbor all night, refusing to close my eyes. They searched for days, only recovering his jacket and watch. I had nearly fainted from grief. Today was supposed to be our wedding day. I had spent the morning clutching our photos, crying until my head throbbed. And now, I knew it was all a game to him. My grief was nothing but a punchline to them. How could I have been so incredibly stupid to believe their lies in my past life? Luke sighed. “Chloe, stop overthinking. If Ethan could see you now, his heart would break.” *His heart would break…* What a sick joke. Just this morning, I had thanked Luke for helping me arrange the memorial. It turned out they were all trash from the same dumpster.
Using the fragmented memories of my past life, I found an old iPad that my sister, Lily, had left behind at our family villa. I entered a few potential passwords, and on the third try, the screen lit up. There was a locked folder in her photo vault named “Lily’s Private Garden.” The latest photos in the folder were set against the backdrop of a picturesque town at the foot of the Swiss Alps. There was a close-up of two hands tightly locked together, followed by an intimate, breathless hug. I knew the tiny mole on the man’s hand all too well. The caption read: *”He said as soon as he handles the family drama back home, he’ll stay with me forever. What’s ten thousand miles? True love knows no distance.”* The location tag read: *Interlaken, Switzerland.* Scroll down, and there were her diary entries: *”Finally got my baby! Patience really pays off! 🥰”* *”Some people just won’t let go of a spot that doesn’t belong to them, but true love always wins~”* *”We are so in love. Forever and always!”* So, while I was literally losing my mind organizing my fiancé’s “funeral,” my darling sister was basking in the sweetness of “true love” in her private little world. I had been kept completely in the dark until the moment of my death in my past life. My relationship with Ethan wasn’t an arranged one. We met in high school. Back then, my parents had already set their eyes on Julian Harrington as my future husband. But I despised the idea of a transactional marriage. My parents’ marriage was purely for business. Since I was a child, I watched them pretend to be a loving couple in public, only to bring their respective lovers home behind closed doors. The few times they were in the same room, it was a toxic cycle of screaming matches and blame. I hated that hypocrisy. So, I ran from the idea of an arranged marriage. In my sophomore year, Ethan sat behind me. Whenever I was down, he’d hover around me like an eager golden retriever. Saying yes to him felt natural. We went from high school sweethearts to the altar. We had even gone back to our high school recently to give a speech. Everyone called us a fairytale come to life. I basked in that envy, truly believing I had found my soulmate. I never could have guessed that the man I thought would never betray me had been sleeping with my younger sister. In her digital diary, Lily affectionately called him “hubby” and posted “spicy snaps with my sister’s fiancé.” Ethan held her, posing for intimate photos. Though his face was kept out of the frame, his smug satisfaction was obvious. Every single “business trip” he took, he took her with him. Every night I thought he was working overtime, he was actually in my sister’s bed. I remembered once telling him not to work so hard. He had smiled and said, *”I want your parents to respect me, Chloe. I want to make enough money to give you a wedding that everyone will envy.”* Five minutes before his “accident,” Ethan had texted me: *”No matter what happens, Chloe, I will love you forever.”* In my past life, I cried every time I read that text. Now, it was just a pathetic piece of garbage.
I walked downstairs. A small, private memorial was being held in the living room. Ethan’s mother, Eleanor Sinclair, was sitting in the center. When she saw me walk down, her swollen, red eyes flared with pure hatred. “If you hadn’t begged my son to hurry back, he wouldn’t have rushed onto that yacht! You are the reason my son is dead!” Ethan was supposed to be in Switzerland overseeing a project. The day after his “accident” was our scheduled wedding dress fitting. He was supposedly rushing back when the yacht failed. When I first heard of his death, I swallowed my own grief to comfort Eleanor. But she had pushed me away, screaming, “You’re a curse! You killed my son!” Eleanor and I never got along. Before the accident, Ethan promised we wouldn’t live with her after the wedding. But over the last few days, consumed by guilt, I had let her use me as a punching bag. But now, looking at her weeping dramatically in front of Ethan’s massive oil portrait, she looked like a clown in a cheap soap opera. For some reason, a dry chuckle escaped my lips. She went stiff with rage. “What are you laughing at?!” She lunged forward, raising her hand to slap me. Mason rushed over to hold her back. “Mrs. Sinclair, please calm down! Chloe is just out of her mind with grief. She’s not mentally stable right now. Don’t take it out on her.” Luke added quickly, “Chloe, apologize to Mrs. Sinclair right now.” I walked slowly over to Eleanor. She assumed I was going to beg for forgiveness and turned her head away in disgust. “Save your breath. I will never forgive you. You were only engaged, not married. Don’t think you’re getting a single dime of my son’s estate.” I bent down and whispered directly into her ear: “Do you really not know who your son faked his death to run off with? Just wait until my sister gets back. The Sinclair family name is going to be dragged through the mud.” She gasped, clutching her chest, and fell back onto the sofa. It felt incredibly satisfying. The relatives panicked, swarming around her. Shaking her finger at me, she screamed, “She really did kill my son! Luke! Call the police! Have her arrested!” I let tears well up in my eyes right on cue, letting my body sway weakly. “Since you hate me so much, Mrs. Sinclair, I guess I have no choice but to pack my things and leave.” “Chloe, don’t say things in anger,” Luke tried to intervene. “Don’t stop me,” I said, putting on a brave, tragic face. “My presence only brings her pain. I’ve decided to move out.” Luke and Mason exchanged a panicked look. This was clearly not part of the script Ethan had written. Luke hurried into the corner to send a Snapchat message to Ethan. *Luke: “Your mom is losing it. She’s screaming at Chloe, and Chloe is packing her bags to leave the Sinclair estate.”* *Ethan: “My mom has a temper, but she’s sacrificed a lot for me. Tell Chloe to just deal with it and swallow her pride.”* *Luke: “But… your mom is relentlessly cursing her out. Chloe is determined to leave.”* *Ethan: “Let her leave then. It’s fine. Once I return, all it’ll take is one word from me to get her back.”* *Luke: “Alright, I’ll let her go.”* In my past life, I never saw these texts. But now, I knew exactly what they were playing at. I didn’t take much—just a small jewelry box and a few everyday clothes. I left the rest behind, telling the crowd, “I’ll leave these here as memories,” but in reality, I was making a clean, public break. My best friend, Nova Harrington, came to pick me up. “Chloe, are you really okay?” she asked gently. She had seen me crying like my world had ended just days ago. “I’m fine,” I said, leaning back against the leather seat. “I just need to get away from there.” Nova thought for a moment. “My brother has a penthouse downtown. He’s barely ever there, and his housekeeper keeps it spotless. Why don’t you stay there for a bit? Take your time finding a new place.” As she handed me the key fob, I asked, “Is your brother going to show up unexpectedly?” “No way. I asked him recently, and he said he has no plans of returning to the city anytime soon. Even if he does, he usually stays at the Harrington estate or a hotel. You’ll have the place entirely to yourself.” I slept for two solid days in the penthouse. The swelling in my eyes finally went down. On the third night, Nova dragged me to an exclusive, members-only cocktail lounge to take my mind off things. After a few drinks, I spotted Luke and Mason in a VIP booth on the second floor. I didn’t want to deal with them, so I turned my head, pretending not to see them. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Luke pull out his phone, snap a photo of my profile, and send it to Ethan. *Luke: “Just saw Chloe drinking her sorrows away at the Sky Lounge. Should I go over and comfort her?”* *Ethan: “Yeah, I did feel a bit bad about how things handled. She must be hurting.”* Luke pocketed his phone and started walking toward the stairs. But halfway down, his phone buzzed again. *Ethan: “Actually, don’t bother. Let her feel the pain of losing me a bit longer. When I ‘rise from the dead,’ she’ll cherish me even more.”*
*Luke: “True. You really know how to handle her.”* *Ethan: “Just keep an eye on her. The lounge is packed, make sure she doesn’t get into any trouble.”* *Mason texted Ethan: “Man, I wish I could find a girl as loyal, beautiful, and rich as Chloe. I’d die happy.”* *Luke replied to Mason: “You could always shoot your shot now while Ethan’s ‘dead.’”* *Mason: “Hell no, Ethan would literally murder me when he gets back.”* During my years with Ethan, several of his friends had tried to hit on me behind his back. Whenever Ethan found out, he cut them off instantly. But that cheap possessiveness was never loyalty. Suddenly, my phone buzzed with a cloud synchronization alert. The locked folder from Lily’s old iPad had synced new photos. Lily had posted a new update: *”23 days left. Today he took me to see the Northern Lights~ Romance at the edge of the world, just for us. 🌌”* Below, she had replied to her own post using a burner account: *”Why does your man still have to go back? Why can’t he just stay with you forever?!”* Lily’s reply: *”He says he still has some responsibilities to handle back home. But it’s fine. Once he wraps things up, we’ll be free.”* Another comment from her burner: *”Some people are just holding onto a spot they don’t deserve. So annoying. Wishing you guys eternal happiness!”* Unbelievable. Over the past two days, I had stared at these photos and logs repeatedly. The process felt like carving Ethan out of my heart with a dull knife. It hurt, but it worked. Grief was slowly replaced by pure disgust. Now, looking at their lovey-dovey pictures, I felt nothing but relief that I had escaped. *Since you love documenting your happiness so much, let’s make sure everyone gets to appreciate it.* I took screenshots of all the logs and photos and sent them to a close friend who worked as an editor for a prominent business news outlet. *”I have some juicy gossip about the newly deceased tech rising star, Ethan Sinclair. I think your readers would love it.”* I had a few too many drinks at the lounge and didn’t get back to the penthouse until late. The alcohol had dulled my senses. I didn’t notice the “Under Maintenance” sign hanging on the guest bathroom door. Feeling dizzy, I walked up to the second floor and saw the light on in the master bathroom. The door was slightly open. Assuming Nova had left it on, I pushed the door open to turn it off. The sound of running water echoed. Through the frosted glass, I saw the silhouette of a tall, muscular man. I froze, my mind instantly clearing. I turned to bolt, but my foot slipped on a wet tile. A wet, muscular arm shot out from behind the glass door, catching me firmly by the waist. The man let out a low grunt as he shut off the water. “Who’s there?” The glass door slid open. Amidst the rising steam, Julian Harrington stood there. He had nothing but a white towel slung low on his hips. Water droplets ran down his chiseled chest and abs. His dark, piercing eyes locked onto mine. “Chloe?” It took me a few seconds to connect the mature, ridiculously built, and intimidating man in front of me with the quiet, aloof boy from high school. “I… I’m sorry. The guest bathroom had a sign on it, and I thought no one was here…” I stammered, my wrist still caught in his firm grip. His grip loosened instantly. His throat bobbed as he grabbed a dark silk robe, throwing it over his shoulders. He looked away. “You can use this bathroom. I’ll use the guest one.” Nova had told me he never came here. I didn’t expect… “Nova lent me this place. I didn’t know you were coming back tonight,” I explained, looking down. I realized the strap of my silk slip dress had slid down my shoulder during the slip. Julian, who had already turned his back to put on pair of sweatpants, answered in a low, even voice. “It’s fine. You can stay. I have a project in the city, so I’ll be dropping by occasionally. If you feel uncomfortable…” “I don’t,” I interrupted, pulling my strap back up. “This is your place. I’m the one intruding.” HiHis hand paused as he tied his sweatpants. “I should have let you know. Goodnight.” With that, he grabbed his clothes and walked out, heading to the guest room at the end of the hall.
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