A Dance to Rewrite Fate

Lucas's ears instantly turned bright red. "I'm not like that," he said hastily.

"I believe you," I said softly.

Of course, I believed him.

In my past life, after my father was imprisoned, it was Lucas who fought tirelessly to uncover the truth and clear his name.

When I asked him why, he simply said it was the right thing to do.

I found out later that Lucas had harbored feelings for me for years.

But my eyes had only ever been for Benedict. I never noticed the way Lucas watched me—with a gaze full of deep affection and quiet resolve.

I had even believed the rumors and kept my distance from him.

And the truth about that secretary? Her husband had been abusing her. Lucas had faked her "disappearance," secretly giving her a new identity and sending her to a distant city to escape her abuser.

By the time I learned the depth of his feelings, he had already died in a plane crash.

This time, I wouldn't let that happen.

The music started, and Lucas and I began to dance.

Disbelieving murmurs echoed around us.

"Is Lucas actually dancing with her?"

"Am I seeing things?"

"I thought he never let any woman get close to him."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Benedict's face darken.

Even though I deliberately avoided looking at him, his frigid stare tracked my every move, a palpable weight I couldn't ignore.

He hadn't expected this. He'd expected me to beg pitifully, as always. He never imagined I would take Lucas's hand without a second thought.

Sienna noticed Benedict's attention had shifted. The smile on her face stiffened.

I ignored them both. As soon as the opening dance ended, I turned and left the banquet.

Back at our apartment, I shed the heavy evening gown.

For ten years, my love for Benedict had bordered on servility.

I had obsessed over every detail of his life, curating his world to perfection.

He once mentioned he was tired and wanted to relax by the sea. I stayed up all night planning a trip to Hawaii for him.

In my last life, he forgot all about it and went skiing with Sienna instead.

I was dragged along with them.

During a snowstorm, Benedict sent me to fetch Sienna's scarf. I slipped, rolled down a snowy slope, and broke my leg.

I would never relive that near-death experience.

Step one: Get away from Benedict.

I returned to my room and started packing.

As I was dragging my suitcase downstairs, I ran right into Benedict, who had just returned from the party.

He saw me, sneered, and snatched the suitcase, tossing it aside.

"What do you think you're doing?" I demanded.

"I should be asking you that, Ava!" he shot back. "Who's this little runaway act for?"

"Everyone knows you're nothing but my shadow. And you had the nerve to ask Lucas to dance tonight—you really think that pathetic stunt would get my attention?"

Benedict was panting, his face twisted in disgust.

I silently picked up my suitcase.

Sienna, who had followed him in, blinked back tears. "Benedict, please don't fight with Ava because of me. You should dance with her next time. I'll be fine. Ava, please don't be mad at me, okay? I'm so sorry."

Benedict immediately pulled Sienna into his arms, comforting her in a low murmur.

His gaze hardened, now laced with an even deeper loathing.

I looked at Sienna—so fragile on the surface, yet every word was a calculated play for sympathy. This was how she had slowly poisoned Benedict's heart against me.

Benedict and I had an arranged marriage. He was the son of Caldwell Corp.'s COO; I was the CEO's daughter.

We had known each other since childhood and had been engaged for what felt like an eternity.

We used to be inseparable.

Then Sienna appeared, and he became a different person.

At first, he was just absent-minded when we were together.

Then, impatient.

Now, it was pure hatred—because I was the one standing between him and Sienna.

A wave of exhaustion washed over me as I watched their cloying intimacy.

I grabbed my suitcase and tried to leave.

Sienna rushed forward to block me.

"Ava, can you please stop being so unreasonable? You're just making Benedict angry."

She grabbed my arm, her sharp nails digging deep into my skin.

The pain made me instinctively shake her off.

She crumpled to the floor, feigning a struggle to rise as she looked up at me with wide, wounded eyes.

"Ava, you—"