The chapel smelled faintly of roses and champagne, but the smile on my face was fake.
I had waited years for this day—white dress, family and friends, a future I thought I wanted. But ten minutes before I was supposed to walk down the aisle, my world went black.
When I woke, it wasn’t under an arch of flowers. It was in the back of a rusted van, wrists tied, the taste of cloth gagging my mouth. The air stank of gasoline and sweat.
Through the haze, I heard my father’s voice over a speakerphone.
"Anna, sweetheart, you know what to do. Take the easy way out. It’s the only way to keep the family’s name clean."
Easy way out. He meant suicide. On my wedding day.
Then another voice—deeper, colder—Ryan Cooper, my fiancé.
"They’re giving you a chance to make this quick. Don’t make us regret it."
My vision swam. The only sound that cut through was a third voice—hoarse, shaking, but furious.
"Name your price. All of it. My company, my shares, my life. Just let her go."
Luke Carter.
My childhood friend. The man I’d rejected years ago because I thought Ryan was the safer choice. He was the only one who cared if I lived.
The kidnappers laughed. “You think we’re doing this for money? No, Carter. This is for the world to see.”
A camera light blinked red. I realized—this was going live.
They didn’t untie me. They didn’t bargain. They just made sure the world watched as they broke me.
Hours later—days, maybe—I was gone. Not in the cinematic sense, not sleeping. Gone.
But Luke didn’t move on. They said he lost his mind that night. Stormed the kidnappers’ compound with nothing but a gun and rage. Tore it apart. Took my father, Ryan, and every traitor down with his own hands.
And then, with my ashes in his arms, he stepped off a cliff into the black waves. His last words were carried away by the wind:
"I’d give it all, Anna. I’d give it all for your next life to be safe."
When I opened my eyes again, the air smelled of fresh coffee and spring rain. The calendar on the wall said three years earlier.
I was back. Back before the wedding. Before the van. Before the livestream.
And I wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice.
So when Luke Carter asked me to marry him this time, I said yes.
The night of our new wedding, I stepped into our bedroom in the red silk gown I’d picked for him. And froze.
Vivian—my stepsister—was draped across him in the same gown. His hands were on her waist, his mouth at her neck. Their laughter was low, intimate.
"Luke, what if Anna finds out?" she purred.
He smirked, not even stopping. "I married her just to see the Ice Queen crack. Turns out she’s boring. You, Viv… you’re wild."
Something inside me snapped. I turned to leave, knocking over a vase. They both turned.
“Well, well,” Luke drawled. “Didn’t know you were into watching, Anna.”
Vivian giggled, pressing a finger to his lips. “She should take notes.”
Luke’s gaze hardened. “Viv’s hungry. Go make us something.”
I didn’t move. I wanted to scream, to demand why. But in the back of my mind, I saw another Luke—the one who’d died with my ashes in his arms.
And I had no idea which one was real.
