Prologue: The Coldest Winter

 

The monitor beeped. A slow, rhythmic sound that felt like a countdown.

Evelyn Astor lay in the hospital bed at Mount Sinai Hospital, overlooking Central Park. Outside, snow was falling on Manhattan, burying the city in white. Inside, Evelyn was burning. Her body felt heavy, paralyzed, betraying her just as everyone else had.

She was thirty-two years old. She was the CEO of Astor Pharmaceuticals, a billion-dollar legacy left by her father. And she was dying.

“Shhh, it’s almost over, Evie.”

The voice was smooth, cultured, and terrifyingly familiar. Mark, her husband of five years, stood over her. He looked impeccable in his Tom Ford suit, his face arranged in a mask of performative grief.

“You put up a good fight,” Mark whispered, adjusting the IV drip. He wasn’t increasing the pain medication. Evelyn knew, with a jolt of clarity through the haze, that he was stopping her heart. “But the board has already voted. The merger with VexCorp goes through tomorrow. With you gone, my signature is all they need.”

Evelyn tried to speak, but her throat was paralyzed. Her eyes darted to the corner of the room.

Chloe was there. Her cousin. Her assistant. The girl Evelyn had paid tuition for, bought an apartment for, treated like a sister. Chloe was checking her makeup in the mirror, wearing Evelyn’s diamond earrings.

“Is she gone yet?” Chloe asked, bored. “We have the reservation at Le Bernardin at eight.”

“Almost,” Mark smiled at Chloe. He looked back at Evelyn. “You were always so smart, Evie. Top of your class at Wharton. But you were blind when it came to love. You signed the Power of Attorney yesterday. You thought it was for the medical trial. You literally signed your life away.”

Rage.

It wasn’t fear that filled Evelyn’s final moments. It was a white-hot, volcanic rage. She had built an empire, and she was being murdered by a trophy husband and a leech.

If I could just… she thought, her vision tunneling. If I had one more chance… I would burn you both to ash.

Mark leaned down and kissed her forehead. His lips were cold. “Goodbye, darling.”

The monitor let out a long, singular tone. The world went black.

---

Chapter 1: The Morning of the Lie

 

“Evie? Evie, wake up! You’re going to be late!”

Evelyn gasped, sitting bolt upright. Her lungs filled with air so violently that she choked. Her hands flew to her chest, clutching at the hospital gown—but there was no gown.

She was wearing silk pajamas.

She looked around. She wasn’t in a sterile hospital room. She was in her penthouse in Tribeca. Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The smell of expensive coffee and fresh lilies filled the air.

“Evie? Are you okay?”

Evelyn turned her head slowly. Standing in the doorway, holding a tray of matcha latte and croissants, was Chloe.

But she looked younger. Her hair was different—longer, lighter.

“Chloe?” Evelyn croaked. Her voice was strong. No paralysis. No pain.

“You look like you saw a ghost,” Chloe laughed, walking in and setting the tray on the bedside table. “Drink this. You need energy. It’s the big day!”

Evelyn grabbed her phone from the nightstand. Her hands were shaking uncontrollably. She tapped the screen.

Saturday, June 15, 2021.

Three years.

She had gone back three years.

Evelyn stared at the date. The room spun. June 15, 2021. This was the day. This was the day she married Mark.

She scrambled out of bed and ran to the full-length mirror. She touched her face. No sickness. No lines of worry. She was healthy. She was alive.

“Evie, stop freaking out,” Chloe giggled. “You’re just having cold feet. Mark is waiting for you at the rehearsal lunch. You’re going to be the most beautiful bride New York has ever seen.”

Evelyn looked at Chloe’s reflection in the mirror. In her past life—no, her future life—Chloe had watched her die with boredom.

Evelyn turned around. Her face settled into a mask of calm that hid the storm beneath.

“You’re right,” Evelyn said softly. “It is a big day.”

She walked over to Chloe. For a second, she wanted to strangle her. Instead, she reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind Chloe’s ear.

“Thank you for the coffee, Chloe,” Evelyn said. “You’ve always been… so loyal.”

Chloe beamed, clueless. “Always, cousin. Now go shower! The makeup team is downstairs.”

As Chloe left the room, Evelyn’s smile vanished. She walked to the window and looked out at the Empire State Building.

“God gave me a second chance,” she whispered to the city. “Mark. Chloe. Get ready. Because this time, I’m the one holding the knife.”

---

Chapter 2: The Setup

 

Evelyn had six hours before the wedding ceremony at The Plaza Hotel.

In her previous life, she had spent this morning drinking mimosas and crying tears of joy. She had been a lamb walking to the slaughter.

This time, she was a wolf.

She locked the door to her bedroom and sat at her desk. She needed a plan. She knew the future. She knew Mark’s secrets.

Fact 1: Mark was embezzling money from his current firm to pay off gambling debts in Atlantic City.

Fact 2: Mark and Chloe had been sleeping together for six months prior to the wedding.

Fact 3: On this specific day, Mark had a burner phone taped under the drawer of his desk in his home office. He used it to communicate with his bookie and… with VexCorp, the rival company he would eventually sell her out to.

Evelyn got dressed quickly. Not in bridal white, but in a sharp black jumpsuit. She opened her safe, took out a stack of cash, and her spare key to Mark’s bachelor pad on the Upper East Side.

“Chloe!” she yelled down the hall.

Chloe appeared. “Yes? Why are you dressed like that?”

“Emergency board meeting,” Evelyn lied smoothly. “A crisis with the FDA approval. I have to go for an hour. Don’t tell anyone. If Mark calls, tell him I’m in meditation.”

“But—”

Evelyn was already out the door and into the private elevator.

She didn’t take her driver. She hailed a yellow taxi.

“72nd and Park,” she ordered.

Thirty minutes later, she was inside Mark’s apartment. It smelled of his cologne—a scent that used to make her heart flutter, but now made her stomach churn.

She went straight to the study. She reached under the mahogany desk.

Her fingers brushed against plastic.

Got you.

She pulled out the burner phone. It was password-protected. Evelyn closed her eyes, remembering a drunken night two years into their marriage (in the other timeline) when Mark had bragged about his “lucky number.”

2300. The amount he won on his first roulette spin.

She typed it in. Click. The phone unlocked.

Evelyn scrolled through the texts. It was a goldmine.

To Chloe: Can’t wait for tonight, baby. Once the ring is on her finger, we’re set. The prenup is void after 5 years, but I’ll drain her accounts before then.

To VexCorp CEO: She’s signing the merger refusal today, but don’t worry. Once we’re married, I’ll convince her. Just have the wire transfer ready.

Evelyn took photos of every text with her own phone. Then, she saw a video file sent to Chloe just last night. She pressed play.

It was Mark and Chloe, in this very apartment, mocking Evelyn.

“She’s so pathetic,” Mark laughed in the video. “She thinks I love her mind. I love her trust fund.”

Evelyn saved the video. She slipped the burner phone into her purse.

She wasn’t just going to cancel the wedding. That was too easy. She was going to destroy him publicly. She was going to turn the “Wedding of the Century” into the “Scandal of the Decade.”

But she needed one more piece. She needed a sword.

She scrolled through her contacts until she found a number she had deleted in her past life.

Julian Thorne.

Julian was the CEO of Thorne Capital. He was a shark. Ruthless, cold, and Astor Pharmaceuticals’ biggest competitor. In her past life, Mark had convinced her that Julian was the enemy.

Now, Evelyn realized Julian was the only honest man on Wall Street. He attacked you from the front, not the back.

She dialed the number.

“This is Thorne,” a deep voice answered. Impatient.

“Julian. It’s Evelyn Astor.”

Silence. “The bride-to-be? Shouldn’t you be putting on a veil?”

“I have a business proposition,” Evelyn said. “I’m about to acquire 100% of VexCorp’s dirty laundry, and I’m going to have a vacancy for a husband. Are you interested in watching a show?”

“I’m listening,” Julian said, his voice dropping an octave.

“Meet me at The Plaza in two hours. Come to the bridal suite. The back entrance.”

“Evelyn,” Julian paused. “You sound different.”

“I am different, Julian. I finally woke up.”

---

Chapter 3: The Ceremony

 

The Grand Ballroom at The Plaza Hotel was a sea of white roses and crystals. Five hundred guests—senators, celebrities, titans of industry—sat in gilded chairs. A string quartet played Debussy.

At the altar stood Mark. He looked devastatingly handsome in a tuxedo. He was smiling, shaking hands, playing the role of the perfect groom. Best Man was his brother. Maid of Honor was, of course, Chloe, looking demure in pale pink.

In the bridal suite, Evelyn stood before the mirror. She wore the dress—a $50,000 Vera Wang custom gown. But her eyes were sharp steel.

There was a knock on the door.

Julian Thorne walked in. He wore a black tuxedo, but he wore it like armor. He was taller than Mark, broader, with eyes that were dark and intelligent.

“You look dangerous,” Julian said, leaning against the doorframe.

“Is everything set up?” Evelyn asked.

“My tech team hijacked the projection system five minutes ago,” Julian nodded. “The remote is in your bouquet. Just press the button.”

He walked closer. “Why me, Evelyn? We’ve been rivals for years.”

“Because you never lied to me, Julian,” she said, turning to face him. “You tried to buy my company, but you offered a fair price. You told me Mark was a snake three years ago. I didn’t listen.”

“I did,” Julian admitted. “I didn’t think you’d listen today.”

“I learned the hard way,” she whispered. She handed him a folded document. “This is a contract. It gives Thorne Capital exclusive rights to distribute my new cancer drug. It’s worth billions.”

Julian looked at the paper. “And in exchange?”

“Protection,” she said. “When I walk out of there, Mark is going to come for me. I need you to stand between us.”

Julian took the paper, folded it, and put it in his pocket. Then he looked her in the eye.

“I’d do it for free,” he said. “I’ve been waiting to see someone take that bastard down for a long time.”

The music swelled outside. Here Comes the Bride.

“Showtime,” Evelyn said.

---

Chapter 4: The Payoff

 

The doors opened. The crowd stood.

Evelyn walked down the aisle. She held her head high. She saw her mother crying in the front row. She saw the VexCorp CEO sitting near the back, looking smug.

And she saw Mark.

He watched her approach with a look of ownership. My bank account, his eyes seemed to say. My stepping stone.

Evelyn reached the altar. She handed her bouquet to Chloe. Chloe squeezed her hand. “Good luck,” she whispered.

“Thanks, Chloe,” Evelyn smiled. “Hold this tight.”

The priest began the ceremony. “We are gathered here today…”

Evelyn tuned it out. She watched Mark. She waited for the moment.

“Do you, Mark Williams, take Evelyn Astor to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

Mark looked deep into her eyes, summoning every ounce of fake sincerity he possessed. “I do.”

“And do you, Evelyn Astor…”

The room went silent.

Evelyn let the silence stretch. One second. Two seconds. Five seconds. It became uncomfortable. Murmurs started in the crowd.

“Evelyn?” Mark whispered, his smile faltering. “Darling?”

Evelyn stepped back. She reached into the hidden pocket of her dress and pulled out a small remote control.

“I don’t,” she said into the microphone.

The crowd gasped.

“Evelyn, what are you doing?” Mark hissed, reaching for her arm. “You’re having a panic attack.”

“No, Mark,” she said, her voice amplified through the ballroom speakers. “I’m having a moment of clarity.”

She pressed the button.

The giant screen behind the altar, which was supposed to show a montage of their childhood photos, flickered to life.

But it wasn’t photos.

It was the video from last night.

Mark’s face, ten feet tall, appeared on the screen. “She’s so pathetic. She thinks I love her mind. I love her trust fund.”

The crowd erupted. Gasps, screams.

Mark froze. His face drained of blood.

Then the screen changed. It showed the text messages.

“Once the ring is on her finger, we’re set.”

“Chloe, baby, wait for me.”

The camera panned to Chloe, standing next to Evelyn. Chloe dropped the bouquet. She looked like she wanted to vomit.

“And finally,” Evelyn said calmly, “let’s look at the bank transfers.”

The screen showed documents. Mark Williams. $500,000 transfer to Atlantic City Casino. $200,000 transfer from VexCorp.

Evelyn turned to the crowd.

“There will be no wedding today,” she announced. “Because I don’t marry thieves. And I certainly don’t marry men who sleep with my Maid of Honor.”

She turned to look at Chloe. “You’re fired, Chloe. Get out of my apartment by tomorrow morning. I’m donating it to a cat shelter.”

Mark snapped.

The humiliation, the ruin, the loss of the billions he was seconds away from touching—it broke him. His face twisted into a mask of pure ugliness.

“You bitch!” Mark screamed. He lunged at her. “You ruined everything!”

He raised his hand to strike her. Evelyn didn’t flinch. She didn’t even blink.

Because a hand shot out from the front row and caught Mark’s wrist mid-air.

Julian Thorne stepped up onto the altar.

He twisted Mark’s arm behind his back with effortless, brutal grace. Mark screamed as he was forced to his knees.

“I believe the lady said ‘I don’t’,” Julian growled.

“Get off me!” Mark yelled. “Police! Arrest her! She hacked my phone!”

“Actually,” a voice came from the back.

Two FBI agents in windbreakers walked down the aisle.

“Mark Williams?” one agent said. “We’re with the Securities and Exchange Commission. We received an anonymous tip about insider trading regarding the VexCorp merger. And Mr. Thorne here just handed us digital evidence of embezzlement.”

Mark looked at the agents, then at Julian, and finally at Evelyn.

“Evie,” he pleaded, switching instantly to beggar mode. “Evie, please. Tell them. It’s a mistake. I love you! We can fix this!”

Evelyn walked over to him. She looked down at the man who had killed her in another life.

She leaned in close, so only he could hear.

“I hope you enjoy prison, Mark,” she whispered. “Try not to sign any bad deals.”

“Take him,” she said to the agents.

As Mark was dragged away in handcuffs, screaming threats and apologies, the ballroom was in chaos. Reporters were snapping photos. Guests were frantically tweeting.

Evelyn stood at the altar, alone in the wreckage of her wedding. She felt a hand on her shoulder.

It was Julian.

“You okay?” he asked.

Evelyn looked at the empty spot where Mark had stood. She took a deep breath. The air tasted sweet. It tasted like life.

“I’m better than okay,” she said. She looked at Julian. “I’m hungry. Do you know anywhere that serves a good burger?”

Julian smiled—a rare, genuine smile that made him look ten years younger.

“I know a place,” he said. “But you might be overdressed.”

Evelyn ripped the veil off her head and tossed it onto the floor. She kicked off her high heels, standing barefoot on the marble.

“Lead the way, partner,” she said.

---

Epilogue: The New Empire

 

One Year Later.

The skyline of New York City glittered in the twilight.

Evelyn stood on the balcony of the new Astor-Thorne Headquarters. The merger had been the biggest news in Wall Street history. Not a takeover, but a partnership.

She took a sip of her champagne.

Her phone buzzed. A news alert.

BREAKING: Disgraced financier Mark Williams sentenced to 15 years in federal prison.

Evelyn swiped the notification away without emotion. He was a ghost. A bad dream she had woken up from.

The glass door slid open behind her. Julian stepped out. He wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder.

“Thinking about the past?” he asked.

“No,” Evelyn leaned back into him, feeling the warmth of a man who actually respected her. “I was thinking about the future.”

“It looks bright,” Julian said, kissing her cheek. “By the way, Chloe called the front desk today. Asking for a job. She says she’s working at a diner in New Jersey.”

“Tell security if she calls again, to block the number,” Evelyn said coldly.

“Already done.”

Evelyn turned in his arms. She looked at Julian—her partner, her equal, and, as of last month, her fiancé. Real love was different, she realized. It wasn’t flashy speeches and grand gestures. It was safety. It was truth.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“For what?”

“For believing me,” she said. “When I sounded crazy.”

Julian smiled. “You were never crazy, Evelyn. You were just… ahead of your time.”

He handed her a folder. “The quarterly reports. We crushed VexCorp. They’re filing for bankruptcy next week.”

Evelyn took the folder. She looked out at the city that she had conquered twice.

“Good,” she said. “Let’s buy them out. I want their building.”

“Ruthless,” Julian grinned. “I love it.”

“I learned from the best,” she winked.

Below them, the city moved on, oblivious to the woman who had cheated death to claim her throne. Evelyn Astor had died in winter, but she had been reborn in fire. And she would never burn again.

[The End]