Choosing The Forgotten, Finding My King

For five years, I was blindly devoted to my fiancé, Austen Griffin. My family's power was the only reason he was about to be named heir to the entire Griffin fortune.

But on the night of the announcement, he arrived late with my sister, Dennie, a fresh hickey on his neck. He cornered me, demanding a prenuptial agreement.

"No shared accounts. No shared bedroom. And no questions about my life," he whispered. "You get the name, I get my freedom."

In my past life, their public betrayal broke me. He used my love to secure his power, then cast me aside, leaving me to die alone while he and my sister enjoyed the fortune I handed them.

But when I opened my eyes, I was back at the gala, moments before the decision.

This time, when the family patriarch asked me to name my choice, I looked past Austen' s triumphant smirk and smiled.

"I choose Kolton Griffin," I announced, my voice clear and cold, selecting the crippled, forgotten cousin he despised most.

Chapter 1

Kallie POV

I walked out of the opulent ballroom, the echoes of Frederick Griffin's booming laugh still ringing in my ears. The air outside was crisp, a sharp contrast to the suffocating warmth within. I needed a moment, a breath, before plunging back into the gilded cage that was the Griffin family.

Then I saw him.

Austen Griffin, draped in expensive silk, was holding court by the fountain. His usual entourage of sycophants and distant relatives hung on his every word.

He hadn't seen me yet.

One of his cronies, a sniveling distant cousin named Marcus, caught sight of me first. He nudged Austen, a smirk already forming on his lips.

The group parted instantly, like water around a stone, leaving Austen front and center. My presence always had that effect.

Marcus, emboldened by Austen's attention, snickered. "Look who it is. Still clinging to the old man's coattails, Kallie?"

His words were a blunt instrument, designed to wound. "Trying to squeeze every last drop out of your father's 'sacrifice'?"

Austen finally turned, his eyes, usually so captivating, now held a chilling indifference. They were like chips of ice, reflecting nothing of the warmth I once desperately sought.

"What do you want, Kallie?" he asked, his voice laced with annoyance. "Haven't you caused enough trouble already?"

He accused me, his words dripping with disdain. "Still using Frederick's good nature to worm your way into things, are we? Still clinging to a past that' s long over?"

"It's just tiresome, Kallie. Always bringing up how your father saved the firm. It' s ancient history. Move on."

He scoffed, adjusting his perfectly tailored jacket. "Honestly, I'm starting to reconsider this whole arrangement. Any further interference from you, and I'll call the entire engagement off."

His eyes narrowed, brimming with pure contempt and disgust. "Any attempt to meddle, to manipulate, and I promise you, any talk of our union will be dead. My decision is final, and nothing you can do will change it."

My stomach clenched. I knew this scene. I had lived it countless times in my past life, a life where my heart was a raw, open wound, constantly bleeding for this man. But this wasn't that life anymore. This wasn't that Kallie.

I took a deep, steadying breath. My past self would have crumbled, pleaded, begged for his understanding. This new Kallie, reborn from the ashes of that heartbreak, simply felt a cold, calculated satisfaction.

"Frederick invited me," I said, my voice calm, flat. "He's throwing me a birthday celebration."

A ripple went through the sycophantic crowd. Marcus's jaw dropped. "Frederick? Throwing Kallie a party?"

Murmurs erupted. "The old man hasn't bothered with family events in years!" someone whispered.

I understood their shock. Frederick Griffin, the patriarch, was a recluse, a ghost in his own mansion. His sudden reappearance, especially for my twenty-fifth birthday, was unprecedented. It was a clear signal, a chess move in the intricate game of power and inheritance.

Frederick's trust. The decisive block of voting shares. The choice of a Griffin heir to marry. The managing partner position. It all hung in the balance tonight.

The initial shock wore off, replaced by forced smiles and fawning. Marcus, ever the opportunist, elbowed Austen. "Looks like someone's about to be officially crowned, eh, Austen? The future head of Griffin & Associates!"

Austen' s lips curled into a sneer. He gave me a mocking, triumphant look. "Congratulations, Kallie," he drawled, his voice a silken threat. He stepped closer, invading my personal space, his breath warm against my ear.

"Let's be clear about the terms of our marriage," he whispered, his eyes glinting with a harsh possessiveness. "No shared accounts. No shared bedroom. And no questions about my life. My private life is exactly that-private."

"That's the only way this alliance works for me. You get the name, the status. I get my freedom. Don't expect anything more."

The sheer audacity of his demands stole my breath. Was he also… from another timeline? Did he remember what he had done to me, to us? The thought was absurd, yet a sliver of doubt, sharp as a splinter, pricked at my mind.

Just then, a saccharine voice cut through the air. "Austen, darling! There you are!"

My sister, Dennie, emerged from the shadows, a vision in delicate lace. She clutched her chest, a faint flush on her cheeks, her eyes wide and seemingly fragile. Her "debilitating anxiety" was always more of a performance than a reality, a carefully crafted shield for her manipulative schemes.

Austen, ever the "chivalrous" gentleman, abandoned me instantly. He rushed to her side, his arm encircling her waist. "Dennie, my love! Are you alright? You shouldn't be out here in the cold."

Dennie leaned into him, a picture of delicate vulnerability. "Oh, Austen, I'm fine, really. Frederick just asked me to… keep an eye on things. Make sure Kallie wasn't too overwhelmed." Her gaze flickered to me, a flash of smug triumph in her carefully meek expression.

Austen's eyes, now devoid of all tenderness, shot back to me. His grip on Dennie tightened. "Kallie, Dennie needs to rest. She's far too fragile for your... antics."

He glared, a silent accusation. "You always think only of yourself. Dennie needs constant care, support. Something you seem incapable of providing."

He guided Dennie away, but not before pausing, turning back to me. His voice was low, threatening. "Don't even think about making trouble, Kallie. I won't hesitate to call off the engagement. You understand?"

I watched them go, a small, knowing laugh bubbling up from deep within my chest. Call it off? Oh, Austen, you have no idea what's coming.