Isla POV
I parked in the restaurant lot under the darkening sky. I had barely turned off the engine before Vivienne opened the car door and jumped out.
I watched through the windshield as she spotted Ronan by the entrance and hugged him with the kind of ease that didn't belong between a man and his fiancée's little sister.
The hug was too long, too comfortable. Her hands at his collar, his arms pulling her in by the waist without hesitation. They looked like two lovers who couldn't wait for the day to end to see each other.
I stepped out of the car slowly, walking toward them with ease and calmness.
An elderly couple passed them on the sidewalk, the woman leaning toward her husband in a whisper that carried: "What a cute couple."
Neither Ronan nor Vivienne corrected it, and I knew they definitely heard it. I sighed sadly. I was too stupid to realize this; but it was way too obvious that they were having an affair.
The hug ended eventually, and Ronan turned to me with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"You actually came." He said it lightly, like a tease. "I thought you'd still be buried in that important job of yours."
"I won't stay long," I said flatly. "So you don't have to worry."
Something shifted in his expression, his eyes widening just a fraction at my words. He had been expecting the usual explanation, the apology, the careful management of his feelings about my working hours.
In my first life, I had always given him that. I always made sure he knew my job was secondary to him. But still, he had made my career a source of conflict despite the same job paying his bills.
But I suppose he needed someone more manageable. Someone who would shrink to fit right beside him.
Don't worry, dear fiancé. This time you and Vivienne can be together openly, and I will be right there cheering for your downfall.
Suddenly, Vivienne appeared at my side, taking my hand with a little squeeze, her voice warm and gentle.
"Relax, you're not at work." She laughed softly. "I know today was hard, being scolded by Lucian Vale in front of everyone like that—"
I removed my hand from hers immediately, disgusted that this wicked hand had touched me.
And of course she said it out loud, in front of Ronan and in front of strangers about how Mr. Vale had reprimanded me, not to comfort me, but to make sure I walked into that dinner smaller and more insecure.
"We should go in," I said. "I don't have all night."
I walked past both of them into the restaurant without looking back. I felt their eyes on me, tracking me. My behavior was probably odd to them both.
I should be less obvious about how much I know, I thought, straightening my back as I approached the host stand. I'm giving too much away.
This wasn't the endgame plan. This was just my first dinner of my second life.
I had enough time.
---
I sat across from them both, eating quietly while Vivienne led the conversation the way she always did. Ronan leaned toward her, attentive and practically hanging on every word.
I felt a pang of jealousy watching it. Not just at him, but at her. The way people gravitated toward Vivienne without being asked, the way an entire room reorganized itself around her presence.
She was confident, warm, and magnetic. Her short dark hair framed her face perfectly, her eyes was always expressive and alive when she laughed.
I knew I always felt insignificant next to her, but I need to get a hold of myself, I thought.
"Hey." Ronan's voice cut through my thoughts. "Did you hear what I said?"
I looked up. "Sorry, could you repeat that?"
He rolled his eyes, irritated. "Such an airhead," he muttered.
I pressed my lips together and said nothing, simply waiting for him to fill me in.
Vivienne filled the silence smoothly. "He said you're going wedding dress shopping this weekend. He already booked that expensive boutique on Thorne Street."
"Expensive?" I said quietly.
I remembered this.
Ronan had used my card, always my card. He couldn't stand the thought of a simple wedding but couldn't fund the one he wanted, so he had quietly, casually used my money and never mentioned it. I had found out three weeks later and said nothing because I was that person then.
I need to move my funds away and protect it.
"I'm so excited," I said, smiling. "Vivienne, you have to come. You have the best sense of style."
Vivienne beamed. "Of course! It's your big day."
"Just make sure you pick something decent, Isla." Ronan's tone shifted to that particular edge he used when he was performing authority. "Listen to Viv. Don't go picking something outrageous."
"Oh, don't worry." I smiled sweetly. "Vivienne will pick the most beautiful dress for me." I looked at Ronan directly. "I want to look my best for you, darling."
Something moved across his face. The sharpness softened, and he leaned forward slightly, tilting his head toward me.
"A little sassy tonight?" He reached across the table, his fingers brushing my hand. "Married life must have you excited."
I resisted the urge to pull away. But I kept smiling sweetly.
I glanced at Vivienne quietly. Her face was perfectly arranged, unbothered by Ronan's attention to me. But her lips had pressed into a thin line, and her hand around her glass had gone white at the knuckles.
Did she really want Ronan? Or could she not stand the thought of him focusing on me?
"Anyway!" Vivienne cut in brightly, her hand landing on Ronan's arm, subtly pulling his attention back across the table. "Don't you have news to share?"
Ronan blinked. Then straightened. "Right—yeah. I have the opportunity to present at a business gala in a few weeks. Some serious investors and industry names will be in the room."
He was already reaching for his phone, pulling up a document. "I've written out the full business plan. It's solid."
He paused and glanced at me, nervously but with a sweet charming smile. "I'll send it to you, Isla. You know—just to look over."
I tilted my head and nodded, remembering the exact business plan he was talking about.
In my first life, I had read that plan and known immediately it wasn't going to work.
The strategy was thin. The projections were built on assumptions that wouldn't survive ten minutes of serious questioning. I had said so carefully, diplomatically, choosing every word.
He had put his phone down and looked at me with the specific coldness of a man who had decided to be offended. You think because you went to a top school you're better than everyone. Know your place, Isla. You're not as special as you think you are.
I had apologized.
And then that night I had stayed up until two in the morning quietly rebuilding his entire pitch from the ground up. Fixing the projections, strengthening the strategy, and sending it to his inbox without saying a word.
He had walked into that gala with my work in his hands and walked out with investors—and never once said my name.
My family had praised his natural intelligence at Sunday dinner, and I had smiled and passed the bread rolls, genuinely happy for him.
I looked at him now across the table, he was confident, easy, and already imagining the gala success for himself.
He would send me the plan. I would read it. And this time, I would say absolutely nothing.
I wouldn't give him a single suggestion, any gentle concern, not a single word of the help he was already quietly counting on receiving.
I smiled at him across the table. "I'd love to take a look," I said.
Ronan tapped his phone, and a second later mine buzzed on the table. I picked it up and opened the document without expression.
I didn't need to read it to know what was inside. I had read every word of it once already. I felt Vivienne's eyes on me as I pretended to scroll through it.
"Shouldn't I see it too?" she asked lightly, leaning toward Ronan with a smile.
Ronan barely glanced at her. "It's a finance thing." He waved his hand dismissively. "You wouldn't need to worry about it."
Vivienne's smile stayed perfectly in place, but something behind her eyes went very still. Envy and jealousy flashed in her eyes as she glanced at Ronan.
Ronan had already looked away, completely unbothered, already watching me, and didn't notice her demeanor.
But I did. She recovered in seconds, turning to me with that warm, familiar tilt of her head.
"She is good at these things," Vivienne said warmly, almost fondly. "Isla's always been like that—very focused, very careful."
"That's not a bad thing at all. But big ideas and bold risks—that's a different kind of thinking. Some people are just happier keeping things simple and uncomplicated. Too much uncertainty makes them nervous." She added.
She said it like a compliment.
Only I heard what was underneath it. You are small and plain. You are not the kind of woman who understands vision.
"You're absolutely right," I said pleasantly.
I turned to Ronan. "This looks really strong. You're a big thinker. Always have been."
Ronan blinked and sat up slightly. But something behind his eyes stayed uncertain, waiting, wanting more than that.
"Did you—did you actually check it properly?" he asked. "You usually have more to say."
There it was. He needed me. He had always needed me. But he would never admit it or even be grateful for my help. What an egotistical man.
"It's great, Ronan," I said simply. And set my phone face down on the table.
He stared at me for a moment longer than he should have.
But Vivienne filled the silence immediately, laughing, touching his arm, redirecting. But I caught the look she threw me from the corner of her eye. A calculating, dismissive look.
I looked down at my glass.
I still didn't know how she had done it; the nose bleeds, the spreading warmth through my limbs and my blurry gaze that led to my death. But I knew it had nothing to do with the slap Ronan had landed on my cheek.
Something had already been in my system before any of that happened.
Vivienne had planned it carefully. I was certain of that.
I just didn't know when. Or how.
But I needed to find out.
