The Fiancée He Never Knew

When Antonio’s childhood sweetheart, Astrid, once again publicly cut off a lock of my hair at a party, I didn’t douse her with a bottle of champagne like I did in my past life. I just calmly removed the thirty-carat yellow diamond, our engagement necklace, from my neck and placed it around hers.

"He's yours now," I said softly. "Have fun, you two."

This time was different because I had already died once. In my past life, I had furiously broken off our engagement, only for him to use his power to blacklist me, which ended with me dying in a car crash out of sheer desperation. And my biological father, a tech mogul at the top of his field, didn’t even find my body until a day later.

This time, I refused to repeat my mistakes.

I swore I would be done with Antonio for good.

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1

I didn't expect him to follow me.

"Scarlett, Astrid didn't mean it. She's just childish—she loves cruel pranks."

"Look, Astrid’s father died in prison covering for my family’s financial scandal. His dying wish was for me to take care of her. I know she's spoiled, but you're my fiancée. Can't you let a small thing like this go?"

In New York's high society, having your hair forcibly cut was a profound public insult. It was never a "small thing."

In my past life, Antonio had said the exact same words.

Back then, already seething over the lock of hair, his defense of Astrid sent me over the edge. I had ripped off my diamond ring in front of everyone, announced our engagement was over, and stormed out.

I’d once believed my dignity was worth more than my life.

But then I endured the humiliation of a broken engagement, dragging my suitcase through the winter night until my arms ached and trembled. Antonio never sent anyone for me. Instead, at a press conference the next day, he branded me "ungrateful and disloyal." The city's elite conspired to ostracize me, and I was dragged into a suffocating vortex of social ruin.

The irony was staggering.

A bitter smile touched my lips.

Antonio’s expression hardened. "What's that look for? I've told you a thousand times—since her father's death, Astrid is like a sister to me. Don't you get any funny ideas."

"It's a lock of hair, not your whole head. You're the future lady of this house. Start acting like it."

I saw the ice in his eyes.

A sharp pain twisted in my chest, a poisoned dagger straight through the heart.

But the pain wasn't for him. It was for the fool I’d been in my past life—the girl who had given him her all.

In that life, after society blacklisted me and my career imploded—after I went bankrupt and had to sell the apartment my adoptive mother left me—a loan shark cornered me. He threatened to make me disappear from New York if I didn't pay up.

I huddled on the floor of a grimy motel, trembling, my fingers still clutching the engagement ring Antonio had given me. He'd presented it to me when we first went public, swearing before God that his wealth, his status, would one day be mine, that I would be his only wife.

So, on the verge of death, I swallowed my tears and made one last call.

But when I dragged myself to him for help, all he said was:

"Scarlett, you finally realize you were wrong? Too late. Our engagement is over. Your problems have nothing to do with me."

The loan shark's threats echoed in my ears. I coughed up blood, my body convulsing.

In my last moment of consciousness, I saw a news report on his engagement to Astrid—the tender look in his eyes had once been reserved for me.

The ring slipped from my grasp.

Only then did I understand. I was never his one and only.

I buried the memories deep and said calmly, "Antonio, I don't have any funny ideas about you and her."

"Don't worry. I know Astrid is young. She was just playing. I'm not mad. I'm just… tired."

A flicker of surprise crossed Antonio's face.

I didn't spare him another glance. I just turned and headed for my apartment on the Upper East Side.

After I died, my soul floated over my own body.

That’s when I learned the truth: I was the only daughter of tech mogul Maximilian Sterling. A childhood kidnapping had stolen my memories and my name.

In this life, as I opened my eyes, those memories were slowly returning—and with them, the certainty that my father was still searching for me.

I pulled out a newly purchased burner phone and dialed the head of security at Sterling Industries.

"Hello. I need to speak with Mr. Maximilian Sterling."

In this life, I wasn't going to be some neglected high-society fiancée. I just wanted to be a daughter again. My father's daughter.