Abby’s POV

"Today marks our fifth wedding anniversary," I whispered to my reflection, a giddy, hopeful smile on my face. I couldn't believe we'd made it to five years.

I'd given the maids the day off, even a bonus. I wanted this night to be just for us. It had been a whole month since I'd last seen Nicholas, and I'd missed him terribly. I’d been so buried in launching my new fashion line, and he... he'd been patient, but I knew he was getting restless.

"I just want a family, Abby," he'd said, his voice soft and pleading on the phone. "I can give you everything. I just need you to quit. To... to have our baby."

A baby. My heart ached with the thought.

Tonight was the night. I was going to tell him yes. Yes to quitting. Yes to the baby. Yes to us! I'd put on the sexy, crimson-red lingerie he'd bought me, the one I'd been saving. I was excited for his arrival, turning to light the last few candles...

My phone lit up on the counter. I snatched it, thinking it was Nicholas, but the screen showed an unknown number.

"Your husband wants to kill you."

I scoffed. A prank? Now? "What a sick joke," I muttered, deleting the message, my hand trembling with annoyance, not fear.

I shook my head, trying to reclaim the mood. But the silence in the mansion suddenly felt wrong. Heavy. Nicholas was late. What happened to him?

I heard a noise. A car door slamming, but from the back of the property. I walked through our master bedroom to the large window on the third floor. I unlatched it and pushed it open, leaning out to see if his car was coming up the gate…

The sound came first — a pop, too sharp, too close — then fire tore through my chest.

“Wha—?” The word barely left my mouth.

My knees gave out, and the room tilted. The window, the curtains, the sky — all spinning. I remember thinking, stupidly, This can’t be happening.

The ground hit me before I even realized I’d left the room. A crunch, a crack, and then nothing but the taste of iron and dirt.

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move. Then Nicholas appeared from the trees, his face calm, his suit perfect. And he wasn't alone. A man in black stood beside him, holding a rifle with a scope.

The text message. The... the arguments over my work. The baby. It all crashed into place. The divorce. He was terrified I'd take his property, his assets. He planned this. He was going to lie to the public, wasn't he? Tell them how much he loved me, how devastated he was.

He knelt beside me, his beautiful face a mask of cold satisfaction in the moonlight. He stroked my arm, his touch a vile mockery of the love I'd felt.

"All men are snakes, Abby," he mocked, his voice a soft, cruel whisper. "You just chose the most venomous one."

I tried to scream, to curse him, but all that came out was a bloody gurgle. I felt the life fading, the cold seeping in.

I... I will never let him go... I vowed, as the world went black. In my next life... I will find you.

****

I stumbled, my heel catching on the slick tile. I gasped, windmilling my arms, my body lurching violently over the edge of the Grand Palace Hotel's swimming pool.

"I was dead," I whispered in disbelief and shock. "Nicholas... Nicholas killed me."

I knew this place. I looked around wildly—the opulent brunch buffet, the string quartet, the air thick with the scent of lilies and expensive perfume.

And I knew this day. Year 2019… six years ago.

The nervous excitement I'd felt the first time... this was the day of his first, grand, very public proposal.

Oh, shit. I had to get out. I couldn't be here. I turned to run, to flee, to just disappear. I wasn't looking. I just ran.

I rounded a large marble column and slammed hard into a solid wall of muscle.

"Oomph!" I bounced back, my head snapping up.

It wasn't a wall. It was a man. A tall, terrifyingly handsome man in a black suit, who looked down at me with dark, unamused eyes.

Oh God. I knew him. This was Matteo Romano.

Nicholas's biggest enemy.

Our eyes locked. His gaze was sharp, assessing, and curious. But I had no time to speak, no time to breathe.

"Abby! There you are!"

That voice. That smooth, lying, murderous voice.

I turned. There he was, Nicholas, walking toward me, his arms open wide. And behind him... his family. My family. And a whole crew of reporters and cameras, their flashes already starting to pop.

Oh my god! He's doing it now! The public trap!

I spun back to the dark, dangerous man in front of me. My choice was a killer or his rival.

"Help me," I whispered, my voice breaking.

Matteo just raised one thick eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

Nicholas was almost here. "Abby, my love, I've been looking all over for..."

I didn't think. I couldn't. I grabbed Matteo's hand, shoving my arm through his and clinging to him like a lifeline.

Nicholas stopped dead. His perfect, camera-ready smile faltered as he saw who I was holding onto. "Abby?" he asked, his voice losing its charm.

I didn't let him recover. I took a deep breath, and my 25-year-old self took over.

“I’m sorry, Nicholas.” My voice shook, but somehow it still carried. The cameras turned, red dots winking like tiny predators. “I can’t accept your proposal… because I’m marrying Matteo Romano.”

The whole patio froze. Even the damn string quartet stopped mid-note.

“W–What?” Nicholas blinked, then again, his perfect smile cracking in slow motion. “You’re not— you’re not serious, Abby. You’re not marrying him!”

My pulse was hammering so hard I could taste blood. Matteo just stood there beside me, unreadable, one brow arched. He didn’t move, didn’t even flinch — but there was a spark in his eyes, sharp and amused. Like he was watching a show he hadn’t paid for.

“We’re done, Nicholas!” I snapped, louder this time, my voice breaking halfway through his name.

My hand found Matteo’s without thinking — warm, steady, terrifying. “Run,” I hissed, barely breathing the word. “Please, just— run.”

We didn't walk. We ran.

"Abigail!" My stepmother's voice was a hysterical scream. "Abigail, you get back here right now!"

We burst through the lobby then dove into his black Maybach waiting at the curb. Matteo was in the driver's seat, the engine roaring to life before I'd even slammed the door.

He hit the gas, leaving the hotel, the cameras, my screaming stepmother, and the furious, humiliated face of my killer behind in a blur.

For the first time in my life, I was out of Nicholas's control. Then I looked at the man next to me. He was driving fast, his jaw set, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. A complete stranger.

But… oh, shit. What the hell have I done? What am I supposed to do with this man now?