The wind howled like a wounded beast as I dangled from the edge of the cliff, my fingers bleeding, clinging to the crumbling earth. Jagged rocks waited below like hungry mouths, and the roaring ocean threatened to swallow me whole.

Above me stood the two people I had loved most in the world.

Ethan Zhao, my husband. Tall, composed, the very picture of a man who once whispered promises of forever. And beside him, holding onto his arm as if it belonged to her, was Lila Chen. My best friend since childhood. My maid of honor. The woman who had sworn to protect my heart like her own.

They looked down at me with matching expressions, cold, resolute. Not a trace of guilt.

“Ethan…” My voice cracked, the salt in the air choking my throat. “Help me. Please…”

His dark eyes glinted in the moonlight. “You weren’t supposed to know.”

“I loved you!” I gasped. “I would’ve given you everything!”

“I know,” he said simply. “And you did. That’s the problem.”

Lila stepped forward, her face framed by the same curls I used to braid when we were twelve. “Don’t take this personally, Serena. You just… weren’t meant to last.”

My arms trembled. The dirt gave way beneath one hand.

“I trusted you,” I whispered. “Both of you.”

Ethan sighed, as if this were a boardroom meeting, not my execution. “It’s just business, Serena.”

Then he knelt down, reached for my wrist, and pressed his thumb down.

Pain exploded in my shoulder. The earth gave way completely. I plummeted.

The last thing I saw was the sky, spinning above me.

Then...

Darkness.

.......................

I gasped awake.

My chest heaved, lungs desperate for air. I clawed at my throat as if I were still drowning. The sheets tangled around me like seaweed. My body shook with cold sweat.

Where...

I bolted upright.

Silk sheets. Pale pink wallpaper. The scent of lavender and fresh roses.

My bedroom.

I was in my old bedroom.

But that wasn’t possible. This room had burned down months ago, during the wedding reception, when a faulty fuse sparked a fire in the Zhao estate.

I looked at my hands. No blood. No dirt. No broken fingernails from clinging to the cliff.

The mirror above my dresser reflected a face I hadn’t seen in over a year, mine, untouched by grief or betrayal. My eyes were still wide with naivety. My cheeks still full. The woman in the mirror hadn’t been destroyed yet.

My gaze dropped to the calendar on the wall.

Friday. June 15th.

The day before my wedding.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

This wasn’t a dream.

It was a reset.

The phone on my nightstand rang, snapping me out of my shock. I flinched.

Caller ID: Ethan Zhao.

For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. The bile rose in my throat.

He was calling. Like it was any other morning.

I stared at the screen until it stopped ringing.

A moment later, a soft knock came at the door.

“Miss Serena?” a voice called gently. “You have your final fitting at 10 a.m. The designer is downstairs.”

I looked at the time. 9:47.

Everything was happening exactly as it had before. The schedule. The people. The lies.

But I wasn’t the same.

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and stood. My knees wobbled, but I forced them to steady.

I wouldn’t fall again.

Not this time.

I descended the staircase in silence.

The house was beautiful, grand chandeliers, creamy white paneling, fresh flowers in every vase. My mother’s voice floated from the living room, chatting with the designer. The same woman who had measured me for my custom gown.

She looked up as I entered, all smiles. “Miss Lin! You’re glowing. Shall we see how the final alterations look?”

I stared at the gown on the mannequin.

Hand stitched lace. Diamond beaded veil. A ten foot train. Worth nearly three hundred thousand dollars.

I remembered standing in it just hours before the wedding, laughing with Lila, talking about honeymoons.

I also remembered what it looked like covered in blood.

“No,” I said quietly.

The designer blinked. “Pardon?”

“I won’t be needing it.”

My mother turned, frowning. “Serena, what are you talking about?”

“I’m canceling the wedding.”

You could’ve heard a pin drop.

The designer blinked twice, unsure if this was a joke. My mother stepped forward, her face suddenly pale.

“Sweetheart… did something happen? Did Ethan...?”

“No,” I said, soft but firm. “I just realized I don’t love him. Not the way I thought I did.”

That part was true. I had loved an illusion.

But now, love had nothing to do with it.

I walked to the gown, took a pair of silver scissors from the designer’s case, and sliced straight through the bodice.

“Serena!” my mother shrieked.

The designer nearly fainted.

I didn’t stop. Lace, satin, pearls, I cut through them all like they were paper. When I was done, the gown lay in shreds at my feet.

I turned to my mother, who stood frozen.

“I’m sorry. But I can’t marry a man who’s already planning my funeral.”

The rest of the day was a storm of confusion.

Calls from Ethan. Messages from Lila. My mother pacing the halls, trying to understand.

I ignored them all.

Instead, I opened a drawer I hadn’t touched since I was nineteen. Inside was an old notebook, my “secret files,” I’d called them. At the time, I’d dabbled in corporate gossip for fun. Unused potential, Ethan had called it.

In it was everything I had ever overheard about Lucien Feng.

Cold blooded. Brilliant. Untouchable. He’d once taken down a multinational firm in less than forty eight hours. Ethan hated him, feared him, actually.

Which made him perfect.

I took a deep breath and picked up my phone.

My hands no longer trembled.

I dialed a private line I should never have had access to.

A smooth, female voice answered. “Feng International.”

“I want to speak to Mr. Lucien Feng,” I said. “Tell him Serena Lin is calling.”

A pause.

“I’m afraid Mr. Feng doesn’t take unscheduled...”

“Tell him I have internal Zhao Corporation documents. And I’m calling off a wedding to his biggest rival.”

Another pause.

“…Please hold.”

As I waited, I watched the torn pieces of my wedding dress being stuffed into a garbage bag by one of the maids. I wasn’t sorry.

I felt like I could breathe for the first time in years.

The line clicked.

A deep, amused voice came through the speaker.

“You’re bold, Miss Lin.”

“I’m desperate.”

“That too.”

I didn’t flinch. “Help me destroy Ethan Zhao.”

“Destroy him?” Lucien sounded intrigued. “You were about to marry him. What changed?”

“Everything.”

Another pause.

Then:

“Come to my office tomorrow. Ten a.m. Bring your proof. And don’t wear white.”

The line went dead.