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Her Daughter's Funeral, Their Wedding Night Novel Cover

Her Daughter's Funeral, Their Wedding Night

For years, Elenora was the Montgomery family's pathetic shadow, craving one glance from billionaire heir Donovan. That devotion shattered when Delphine Vance's SUV struck her four-year-old daughter, Poppy. As Elenora begged for help, Donovan ran past the dying child to embrace the uninjured Delphine, shoving Elenora into shattered glass. Cradling a tiny white urn, a hollow Elenora walked into the freezing Atlantic—but death never came. She wakes in her old servant's quarters, unscarred, seventeen again, five years before the crash. Tearing up her diaries of obsession, her eyes turn cold as the ocean. This time, she won't be their prey. She'll build her own empire and make them pay.
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Chapter 2

At the wedding reception, the champagne was flowing.

Delphine swept out of the dressing room in a burgundy gown that hugged every curve. She looked radiant. Triumphant. Exactly like a woman who'd finally gotten everything she'd ever schemed for.

"Donovan, darling. All the guests are waiting. Come toast with me."

She held out her slender hand. Perfect manicure. Eight-carat diamond glittering on her finger.

Donovan took her hand, his dark eyes soft. "Of course."

He led her toward the ballroom. Toward the applause. Toward the life he'd always believed he deserved.

His executive assistant burst through the doors.

Linden Hayes' face was white. His tie was askew. He looked like a man who'd just seen a ghost and was about to become one himself.

"Mr. Montgomery." His voice cracked. "Elenora Carlson walked into the ocean. She's dead."

The room went silent.

Then someone-one of Delphine's bridesmaids-laughed nervously. "Elenora who? She's his ex. Her life is none of his concern. Don't ruin the wedding with this nonsense."

Donovan was already standing in front of Linden.

His face had gone terrifyingly blank. The kind of blank that preceded violence.

"What did you say?"

He laughed. Cold. Sharp. As if he was trying to convince himself of something.

"Impossible. She's lying. That woman is too conniving to ever-"

"It's true, sir." Linden's voice was barely above a whisper. "The coast guard pulled her body out twenty minutes ago. And..." He swallowed. "They found her daughter's urn with her. She was holding it when she went under."

The man everyone believed could never be moved by Elenora Carlson suddenly went gray.

His eyes-those famous dark eyes that had looked at her with contempt for years-went completely blank. He stared into the distance, unseeing.

No one in the room dared breathe.

Delphine ran to him, grabbing his hand, her eyes wide and liquid. "Donovan..."

He didn't look at her. He wrenched his hand free and walked out.

All the color drained from Delphine's perfect, porcelain face.

---

Montgomery Manor.

Elenora stared down at her hands. Young hands. Unwrinkled. Unscarred. The hands of a girl who hadn't yet been destroyed.

She sat in the vast, opulent living room, and slowly, piece by piece, she accepted the impossible: she had been reborn.

Cornelius Montgomery, the patriarch of the family, fixed her with a sharp, assessing look from his seat on the leather sofa. His voice was old parchment and gravel.

"Elenora. Are you certain you want to accompany Donovan on his business trip to City?"

Her eyelashes fluttered.

She remembered this moment. This was the turning point. The fork in the road that had led to every disaster that followed.

Donovan was going to Hua Shui City, supposedly for business. But everyone knew the real reason. Delphine Vance was there. His first love. His obsession. The woman he'd been waiting for since high school.

In her last life, Elenora had thrown a spectacular tantrum. She'd begged and pleaded and made herself completely pathetic until Cornelius had agreed to let her go. She'd thought she was fighting for her marriage. She'd thought she was protecting what was hers.

What a joke.

Her father had been Cornelius' driver, and he'd died saving the old man's life. Out of a sense of obligation-not love, never love-the Montgomerys had taken her in. They'd given her a room and an allowance and treated her like a mildly annoying pet.

So when she'd begged, Cornelius had indulged her. The way you'd indulge a dog that wouldn't stop barking.

She looked past Cornelius to the man sitting beside him.

Donovan Montgomery IV. Impeccable in a tailored black suit, every button fastened, every hair in place. He lounged in his chair like a predator at rest, one strand of dark hair falling over sharp, indifferent eyes. His mouth was pressed into its habitual thin line of displeasure.

Just looking at him made her chest seize.

All the memories crashed back at once. His coldness. His cruelty. The way he'd looked at her like she was something foul he'd stepped in. The way he'd let her kneel in the courtyard all night while Delphine stayed in his bedroom. The way he'd kicked her away while their daughter bled to death.

Her heart stopped. Her blood turned to ice.

This was the man who had controlled her entire life. The man who had treated her like garbage.

She hated him.

Hated him with a ferocity that made her hands shake. Hated the memory of his contemptuous eyes, his dismissive voice, the way he'd made her feel small and worthless every single day.

Donovan's fingers tapped against his knee. His annoyance was becoming more obvious by the second.

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