The Second Life of a Doomed Heiress

Chapter 1

The wedding march swelled as I stood at the end of the aisle, my arm hooked through my father's.

Crystal chandeliers bathed everything in a warm, golden glow. My snow-white gown shimmered under the light, and a wave of gasps and whispers swept through the crowd.

"She's breathtaking…"

"I saw you a few more times after that," he whispered, his arms tightening around me. "But your eyes were always on him."

"I clawed my way to the top," he said, voice thick with emotion, "just so I could stand before you as an equal."

My throat tightened. I silenced him with a kiss.

Months later, I was scattering fish food over the koi pond in the garden when the butler approached with news.

The Crawfords, desperate to save what was left of their reputation, had stripped Vincent Crawford of his inheritance and publicly disowned him.

Rosalie Simmons had fallen even harder. After losing the Hawthornes' backing, she ended up selling herself overseas in Southeast Asia.

I flicked another handful of food into the water, a small, satisfied smile playing on my lips.

Compared to what I'd suffered in my past life, their downfall barely scratched the surface.

Four months later, my father officially retired.

Sebastian held a press conference at Hawthorne Group headquarters, announcing the historic merger of our two families' empires.

I sat in the front row, pride swelling in my chest as I watched my husband command the room with effortless authority.

Then—chaos.

"Someone's on the roof—it's that Crawford bastard!"

"He's live-streaming!"

I yanked out my phone.

On screen, Vincent Crawford appeared, looking gaunt, wild-eyed, and desperate.

"Bring Evelyn Hawthorne to me!" he shouted into the camera. "If she's not here in ten minutes, I'll paint Hawthorne Group in blood!"

Sebastian calmly took my phone from my hand.

"I'll handle it," he said.

"No." I stood up, my voice steady.

"This ends with me."

We made our way to the rooftop.

The moment Vincent spotted me, his bloodshot eyes locked onto mine.

"This is all your fault!" he screamed.

He ripped open his coat, revealing a vest strapped with explosives.

"Dump Sebastian and marry me!" he demanded.

"Are you out of your mind?" I shot back.

"Was it my fault you cheated? That you humiliated me?" he ranted.

"I don't care!" he shrieked, jabbing at the detonator.

"We'll die together!"

The crowd scattered and ducked for cover—everyone but me.

I stood there, cold and unmoving, watching him fumble with a bomb that wouldn't detonate.

Police stormed the rooftop.

Vincent, cornered and broken, suddenly wailed, "Evelyn, this is our second life! We were happy in the last one!"

I stepped closer, my voice cutting through the air.

"Then tell me," I said coldly.

"How exactly were we happy?"

"We ran Hawthorne Group together... we grew old side by side—"

"Liar." I slashed through his words without hesitation.

"You took mistress after mistress... and you staged my death to get rid of me."

His face went ashen.

"Y-you... you remember too?"

Sebastian reached out and gently covered my ears.

"Too noisy," he said calmly.

"Take him away."

As the police dragged Vincent off, I finally exhaled.

Sebastian pulled me into his arms, his familiar cedar scent chasing away the lingering shadows.

The sun was warm. The breeze soft.

And with him by my side, this life—this second chance—was more than enough.