Genevieve' s message burned on my screen, a stark reminder of her true nature. I remembered her innocent smiles, her whispered apologies, the way she played the victim in every scenario. It wasn' t a sudden revelation; it was an affirmation of what I already knew, a chilling echo from the future that had been erased.
But her casual cruelty, her open gloating, it was new. The timeline had shifted. She was bolder, more confident, fueled by Christian' s immediate support. This meant I had to be bolder too.
My gaze hardened. They thought they could break me. They thought I was the same Eliana, the one who would crumble under the weight of betrayal.
They were wrong.
In my previous life, my marriage to Christian had been a strategic alliance, brokered by my father, but one I had entered with genuine hope. I had poured my heart and soul into Hayden Innovations, growing its market share, developing groundbreaking tech that had earned accolades from industry giants. My family' s elders, especially my late mother' s brothers, had praised my acumen, often lamenting Christian' s lack of vision compared to mine.
Christian, on the other hand, had treated me like an accessory, a means to an end. He' d barely tolerated my presence, his coldness a constant shadow in our meticulously decorated home. I had clung to the hope that my achievements, my dedication, would eventually earn his respect, perhaps even his affection. Foolish, I knew now.
That illusion shattered when I discovered the truth: not just his affair with Genevieve, but their meticulously crafted plan to dismantle Hayden Innovations, to sell off the patents I had painstakingly developed, all for their personal gain. The pain was excruciating, a betrayal that went deeper than just my heart. It attacked my legacy, my mother' s legacy.
"Miss Eliana?"
The soft voice of Mrs. Gable, our long-time housekeeper, pulled me from my reverie. She stood at my office door, her face etched with a familiar mixture of concern and pity. "Your sister, Genevieve, will be arriving this evening. Your father asked me to inform you."
I froze. Genevieve. Here. Now. My mind reeled. This was happening so much sooner. In the previous iteration, she hadn't dared to show her face for weeks after Christian's public declaration.
Mrs. Gable wrung her hands, her gaze fixed on me. She knew. She had always known more than she let on, her silence a protective shield around my father's fragile peace. But her silence had also been complicity, a quiet acceptance of the injustice I faced. No one in the family, save for one, had truly stood up for me. Not really.
My father, Freddy Hayden, was a good man, but weak-willed. He always believed in keeping the peace, often at my expense. "Just be the bigger person, Eliana," he'd pleaded countless times, dismissing Genevieve' s petty cruelties as mere sibling rivalry.
But there was one. My Uncle Thomas, my mother's younger brother. He was the maverick, the black sheep who had found his own fortune outside the family business. He was sharp, perceptive, and fiercely loyal to my mother's memory. I remembered his quiet, unwavering support, his veiled criticisms of Christian, his thinly disguised contempt for Genevieve' s manipulations.
He had always seen Christian for what he was: a charming parasite. He' d often said, "Eliana, you're too good for that boy. You deserve a man who sees your worth, not just your name."
A daring thought sparked in my mind. A strategy, bold and unconventional, that could offer a way out, a path to reclaim my company and my life. An alliance with the right man.
The idea was audacious, almost reckless. I wasn't even sure he would agree. But what did I have to lose?
"Miss Eliana?" Mrs. Gable asked again, her voice softer this time. "Are you alright?"
I looked at her, then offered a small, knowing smile. "I'm perfectly fine, Mrs. Gable. Better than fine."
I had a vital task to complete. A proposal. Not for marriage, not yet. But for a partnership that would change everything.
I spent the rest of the day in my office, hunched over my desk, meticulously crafting a new business proposal. It was a revised version of the one I had originally prepared for Christian, outlining the merger between Hayden Innovations and his firm, Chavez Technologies. But this time, the target was different. Far grander.
Romero Industries.
Immanuel Romero. The legendary tech titan, a man who built an empire from nothing, a man my mother had deeply respected. He was a recluse, notoriously difficult to approach. But he had also been a close friend and colleague of my mother. That was my only, albeit slim, advantage.
The proposal I was now writing was not just about business; it was about survival. It detailed Hayden Innovations' core strengths, its patents-especially the ones Christian and Genevieve coveted-and projected stunning growth potential under the right leadership. This was the same technology that Genevieve had stolen from my office in the previous timeline, the very project she believed was her ticket to wealth.
I worked through the night, fueled by strong coffee and an even stronger resolve. The old proposal, initially brimming with optimism for a future with Christian, lay discarded in my mental trash bin. This new one was cold, calculated, a weapon forged in the fires of betrayal.
As dawn broke, painting the sky in hues of rose and gold, I finally leaned back, exhausted but satisfied. The presentation was perfect. It highlighted the synergy, the market dominance we could achieve together. More importantly, it subtly emphasized the danger posed by predatory firms-like Christian' s.
I stood up to stretch, my muscles aching. Just a quick power nap, then I would begin the painstaking process of getting an audience with Immanuel Romero.
I closed my laptop, set it carefully on my desk, and left the office for a quick break.
When I returned, the laptop was there. But the USB drive, containing the only copy of my meticulously prepared proposal, was gone.
My blood ran cold.
No. Not again.
My fingers flew across the keyboard, accessing the office security footage. I fast-forwarded to the early morning hours, after I had left. The door to my office opened. A slender figure, cloaked in shadow, slipped in. My heart hammered against my ribs. The figure moved with practiced ease, directly to my desk. They picked up the USB drive. And then, as they turned to leave, a detail caught my eye. A small, distinctive silver charm dangled from their wrist – a gift my father had given Genevieve for her last birthday.
My hands trembled, not from fear, but from a rage so potent it made my vision blur. Genevieve. Again. She had stolen it. Just like she had stolen my peace, my fiancé, and tried to steal my future.
I didn't think. I just moved. I stormed out of my office, a primal scream building in my throat. I knew exactly where she would be.
Her office.
I yanked open the door without knocking. And there she was, sprawled across Christian' s lap, his hands tangled in her hair, their mouths locked in a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. They sprang apart, startled, Christian' s face a picture of guilt and fury, Genevieve' s a mask of feigned shock.
"You!" I shrieked, my voice raw, pointing a trembling finger at Genevieve. "You bitch! You stole my proposal!"
Christian was on his feet in an instant, pushing me back. "What the hell is wrong with you, Eliana?! Get out!"
Genevieve, ever the actress, dissolved into tears, clutching Christian' s arm. "Oh, Eliana, please! Don't be mad! I… I just wanted to see what you were working on! I was just curious!" She even started to slide off his lap, as if to kneel. "I'm so sorry! Please don't be angry!"
Christian caught her, pulling her back up. "Stop it, Genevieve, don't you dare humble yourself for her!" He glared at me. "What are you even talking about? What proposal? Why are you always creating drama?"
"My proposal!" I screamed, my voice cracking. "The one for Romero Industries! She stole it!"
Christian' s face contorted into something ugly. "The Romero proposal? What a joke! You think he would ever look at your amateur work? You truly are delusional. You're just jealous that Genevieve is finally getting some attention." He laughed, a short, cruel sound. "Go on, Eliana. Get angry. It just proves how desperate you really are."
My eyes fell on Genevieve' s laptop, open on her desk, a familiar file name glowing on the screen. My proposal. My rage boiled over.
Without a second thought, I grabbed a heavy paperweight from Christian' s desk and brought it down with all my might onto Genevieve' s laptop screen. The glass shattered, spiderweb cracks spreading across the display, a loud, satisfying crunch echoing in the sudden silence.
Genevieve shrieked, a genuine sound of horror this time. "My laptop! My work! You ruined it!"
I stared at her, then at Christian, a cold, hard smile spreading across my face. "Oh, Genevieve, darling," I drawled, mimicking Christian' s condescending tone from earlier. "You want to talk about ruined? You haven't seen anything yet."
Christian stared at me, his eyes wide with a mixture of shock and something I couldn't quite decipher. "Eliana," he began, his voice laced with disbelief, "what has gotten into you?"
I didn't answer. I just turned and walked out, leaving them in the wreckage of their betrayal.
"Eliana! Don't you dare walk away from me!" Christian yelled, lunging forward.
But Genevieve, still clutching her shattered laptop, whimpered, "Christian, my report! It's gone!"
He hesitated, a split second of indecision. That was all I needed. He turned back to comfort her.
"What is wrong with you, Eliana?" I heard him shout as I walked away. "She was just trying to help you!"
