Emily Stanton had been reborn.

Back to the day she married Elliott Rhodes, when she was just twenty.

In her past life, she’d bought into Elliott's sweet nothings, throwing herself into supporting the Rhodes family with every connection she had. She helped them rise all the way to the top of Licheng’s elite.

And what did she get in return?

Betrayal. Elliott’s face twisted in anger, his hands choking her neck as he muttered he never loved her.

He killed her—just like that.

Now, here she was again, wrapped in a pure white wedding dress, holding up the hem and carefully balancing on top of a wall.

She was stunning. Her eyes sparkled like the stars, bridal makeup flawless, hair tied up simply with a tiny jeweled crown. The veil fluttered gently in the breeze behind her.

Below her was the wedding venue, full of buzz and laughter—congrats flying in from every direction.

It was held at a private estate. In her previous life, she’d been kidnapped during the ceremony. Turned out that too had been part of Elliott’s plan.

Not this time.

Without thinking, Emily ran to the backyard and climbed onto the boundary wall.

She glanced down—yeah, it was a long drop. Her heels were already making her legs shake.

Taking a deep breath, she lowered her gaze—and jumped a little in fright when her stare met a pair of mischievous-looking eyes.

Dylan Maxfield.

Youngest son of the Maxfield family, Licheng’s richest clan. Rumors had it he was the illegitimate child, a total heartbreaker who never got tied down.

He was ridiculously good-looking—sharp eyes like slits of mischief, a tall nose, and thin lips now curled into an amused smirk.

Those flirty eyes overlapped with hers. He gave her a subtle wink.

With arms crossed and leaning casually against the wall, Dylan looked up at the unsure girl standing overhead with a slow, assessing glance, that playful grin growing wider.

From that smirk alone, Emily could tell—he thought this was funny.

Holding her dress, she scooted slowly, looking for a good spot to jump.

Then—bam.

Her foot slipped, and she lost balance, toppling forward.

"Ah—"

She let out a low yelp, shutting her eyes tight, bracing for that bone-breaking impact.

But instead of pain, she landed—not on the ground—but on someone.

Dylan’s arms had already shot out on reflex. “Careful.”

Now with gravity doing its thing, she was fully sprawled on top of him.

Pain sparked in the back of Dylan’s head from the impact, and he hissed slightly through gritted teeth.

Emily landed right in his arms, her soft lips brushing against his cheek.

She blinked, stunned, hands awkwardly pressing against his chest for balance, realizing who had broken her fall.

Dylan felt her weight on him and his brow twitched. He wrapped an arm tightly around her waist, voice low with a warning edge: “Don’t move.”

Emily froze.

Just like that, she flopped right back down on him.

This time, their mouths were barely an inch apart.

Dylan’s gaze turned darker.

Emily’s heart was racing. Her face could’ve lit up a fire alarm.

Warm breath mixed between them, heating up the air.

The whole scene—just way too intimate.

Their eyes locked, and Emily was surrounded by his scent, flustered and unsure.

Just then, chaos erupted behind the wall—shouts and footsteps breaking the moment.

Dylan leaned in next to her ear, voice low and teasing, “Throwing yourself at me, huh?”