His Second Choice, My First Empire

I was once the sole heiress to the Devereux family, a California tech giant.

After my mother passed away, my aunt—the matriarch of New York’s formidable Astor financial dynasty—brought me to Manhattan and raised me as her own.

The Astor patriarch had promised that whichever of his sons married me would secure the deciding vote for the CEO’s throne.

In my previous life, I chose the eldest son, Evan.

I poured everything I had into helping him claim his throne. I designed a landmark building for him. I silenced dissenters on the board. I consolidated his power.

And when he had the company firmly in his grasp, he repaid me by fabricating evidence to have me kicked off the board.

He sealed my fate with a hostile takeover agreement he signed himself.

The Devereux Group was devoured. My team was purged.

He came to see me in the final moments before I signed the bankruptcy papers.

"If it weren't for you," he said, his cold breath brushing against my ear, "Jenna wouldn't have had to suffer so much."

"She faced the gossip all alone, and I couldn't even defend her publicly. You will pay for that tenfold."

"Consider the fall of the Devereux Group the price of your delusion of becoming Mrs. Astor."

I was left with nothing. I died in despair.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the fateful charity gala.

The family patriarch and matriarch smiled down at me.

"Marissa, tonight you will choose your husband."

The Astor brothers stood before me.

This time, I didn't even glance at Evan.

I turned and pointed to my cousin, Jonathan.

"I will marry Jonathan."

And this time—it was my turn to decide whose world would burn to ashes.

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1

My aunt, Catherine, watched me, then nodded to an assistant. The man stepped forward and placed an antique Patek Philippe watch in my hand—a treasured family heirloom, the token of alliance between our two empires.

"Marissa," she said gently, her voice resonating through the grand banquet hall, "give it to the man you wish to marry."

William Astor laughed, his voice deep and indulgent.

"Indeed. Whoever Marissa chooses has my full blessing. Let all of Wall Street bear witness."

The banquet hall at the top of the Astor Group tower was filled with board members, top Wall Street bankers, socialites, and the heirs to New York's most powerful families.

As a California tech heiress raised in New York, my marriage was more than a personal affair.

Whoever married me would gain a powerful tech ally, enough to tip the scales of power within the Astor Group.

I slowly ascended the steps, the watch cold in my palm.

Polite smiles and camera flashes followed my every move.

No one doubted my choice.

All of New York knew I had adored the group's heir apparent, Evan Astor, since childhood.

It was the outcome everyone expected.

However, Evan didn't look pleased. He frowned, taking an imperceptible step back.

In a corner stood Jenna Bishop, the daughter of a mid-level manager, an intern who had caught the heir's eye. Tears glistened in her eyes, poised to fall but never quite spilling over.

I walked past Evan's younger brother, and then past Evan himself.

Evan's expression shifted to one of undisguised disgust.

Standing next to him was my cousin, Jonathan Astor—my aunt's third son—who watched me with a quiet, unreadable smile.

As our eyes met, his mask of detached composure seemed to crack, revealing a flicker of pity—as if he already knew I was walking toward my own ruin.

Just that morning, he had leaned against the floor-to-ceiling window of my aunt's private office, arms crossed, sizing me up with that mixture of amusement and concern.

"Use your eyes, Marissa. Why chase a man who won't even look at you? You could have anyone. With your standing, why are you begging for scraps of attention?"

He had smiled then, an easy, warm smile.

And yet—

In my past life, when I was driven to bankruptcy, it was Jonathan who had diverted his private jet from a European business trip, landing in a desperate rush to get back.

He had been too late.

He stood before my cold tombstone for three days and three nights, sleepless, letting the harsh New York wind wear him down to a haggard shadow.

"I failed you," he had whispered hoarsely. "I should have stopped this union, even if it meant fighting the whole family. I should have saved you."

I blinked away the memory.

Next to Jonathan stood the second brother, composed and distant. His mother had been one of William's public mistresses, and though he grew up within the group, he understood the limits of his inheritance. He neither fought nor schemed. The CEO's seat was never truly meant for him.

The entire hall held its breath as I raised the watch.

I walked toward the Astor brothers.

Before I could place it in anyone's hand, Evan suddenly strode forward, his voice cutting through the hall.

"Father," he said, his voice ringing clearly, "I must refuse this honor. My heart already belongs to another."

He turned slightly, extending a hand toward Jenna without quite touching her.

"Miss Jenna Bishop is the woman I love," he continued without hesitation.

"I love her, truly and deeply. I will have no other wife."