Married Twice Loved Once

Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

The sound echoed in the dark, dragging Aria out of nothingness.

Aria gasped.

Her lungs filled with air so suddenly it hurt. She clutched her chest, eyes snapping open. For a moment, she thought she was still dying. The pain, the blood, the marble floor her mind expected it all.

But there was nothing.

No blood.

No pain.

No cold marble beneath her.

Instead, she lay on a soft bed covered in silk sheets. Candlelight flickered gently against cream-colored walls. The air smelled faintly of roses, warm and rich.

Aria sat up fast, her heartbeat loud in her ears. Her hands shook as she touched her body. Smooth skin. No wound. No blood.

She pressed her palm against her heart. It beat strong and steady.

Her eyes widened. How... how is this possible?

She threw the blanket aside and stumbled out of bed. Her legs wobbled, but she forced herself toward the mirror across the room. Each step made her breath quicken, her mind racing.

When she reached the mirror, she froze.

The face staring back was her own... but not the same face she last saw in death.

This face was younger. Softer. Not lined by years of sorrow or exhaustion. Her lips were pink, her skin smooth, her eyes bright. She touched her cheek, then her hair, her fingers trembling.

She looked twenty-two.

Her throat tightened. Her wedding age.

"No..." she whispered, her voice shaking. "This can't be real."

But everything around her screamed it was. The familiar room. The lace curtains. The smell of roses. She knew this place. She had lived it once before.

It was her bridal chamber.

The night she became Mrs. Cross.

Her pulse raced. She turned toward the bed, the silk gown spread neatly across it. The very same gown she had worn to her wedding. White, perfect, sparkly new.

Aria staggered back, her knees nearly giving out. Her mind reeled.

She remembered. The first time. That night three years ago. Her family had dressed her like a doll and handed her to Damian Cross. She had walked down the aisle with hope, with nervous joy, believing marriage would finally give her value, finally give her love.

Her lips trembled. That hope had killed her.

But this time... she had been pulled back.

She clenched her fists tight. The nails dug into her palm, grounding her, reminding her this wasn't a dream.

She really had come back.

Her chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. She turned again to the mirror. The young woman in the reflection wasn't a naïve bride anymore. Not after what she'd seen. Not after what she'd suffered.

Her lips curved into a thin, bitter smile.

"They wanted a pawn," she whispered to her reflection. "But this time, I'll be the one moving the pieces."

Her gaze sharpened, her eyes glowing with something fiercer than hope. Fire.

Sophia Hart. Vivienne Carter. Damian Cross. Her family.

They had destroyed her once. But this time, she would be the one holding the knife.

From outside the room came the faint sound of music. Guests celebrating, drinking, gossiping. Waiting for the bride to step out and join the ceremony.

Aria looked toward the door. A door that once led her to years of cold marriage and silent suffering.

Her heart pounded. But her fear was gone.

This time, she would walk through it differently.

This time, Aria Carter wasn't a victim.

She was reborn.

Aria stood before the mirror for a long time, her fingers lightly brushing over her reflection.

This face young, beautiful, untouched by betrayal was both familiar and foreign. She had once looked at this same reflection with excitement, with hope for her marriage. Back then, she thought Damian Cross would become her partner, her protector, her husband in truth.

Now she knew better.

Her chest tightened, not with pain, but with a sharp, cold clarity.

She turned away from the mirror and sat at the edge of the bed. Her eyes trailed over the silk sheets, the perfect bridal gown, the flowers that decorated the room. It was a picture of happiness. A lie carefully painted by her family and the Crosses.

She touched the gown, her lips curving into a mocking smile.

"They dressed me like a lamb for slaughter," she whispered. "But they'll soon realize I'm no lamb."

She closed her eyes. Images of her past life flickered in her mind again the humiliation, the cold nights, Sophia's false friendship, Vivienne's poisonous smiles. Damian's icy indifference.

Her nails dug into her palm until she almost drew blood.

Not this time.

If she had to play the obedient wife, she would. But behind the mask, she would sharpen her claws. If she had to smile at Sophia, she would. But behind the smile, she would be weaving traps.

And if she had to sleep beside Damian Cross again... so be it. But she would never love him. Not this time.

This time, she would use the cold CEO to her advantage. She would turn his name, his power, his indifference into her shield. Until she no longer needed him. Until the day came when she could crush him too, if she wished.

Her lips curled into a faint, chilling smile.

She opened her eyes and stood, straightening her back. For the first time in years no, in two lifetimes her spine felt unbent. Strong.

Aria Carter was no longer the weak, unwanted wife.

She was reborn as her own weapon.

The music outside grew louder, the wedding ceremony about to begin. She walked toward the door, her steps steady, her heartbeat calm. The same door she once walked through blindly, ready to chain herself to misery.

But not tonight.

Tonight, she walked through it with her head high and her eyes wide open.

Her story was beginning again.

And this time, she wasn't going to survive.

She was going to conquer.