Evelyn Hart woke up to the sound of a heart monitor.
Not the sharp panic she remembered.
Not the cold floor beneath her knees.
Just a slow, steady beep—calm, clinical, unforgiving.
For a moment, she thought death had been quieter than expected.
The ceiling above her was white. Too white. Hospital white.
Her fingers twitched.
They moved.
Her breath caught.
No. That's not possible.
The last thing she remembered was rain blurring her vision, headlights cutting through the dark, and the unbearable clarity of a single thought—
I chose wrong.
She swallowed hard, throat dry, pulse racing now as she forced herself to sit up. The room spun slightly, but it was real. Pain was real. The IV taped to her wrist was real.
And then she saw the date on the monitor.
March 14.
Her chest tightened.
That date wasn't just familiar.
It was the day everything began to collapse.
Three years ago—
the day she had walked away from Adrian Blackwood.
The man everyone feared.
The man she had once loved, then rejected, then lost forever.
The man who, in another life, had been the last person standing beside her when everything else fell apart.
Her hands began to shake.
"This isn't a dream," she whispered, voice hoarse.
The door opened softly.
A nurse stepped in, offering a professional smile. "Ms. Hart, you're awake. You fainted due to exhaustion and dehydration. Do you remember what happened?"
Evelyn nodded slowly.
She remembered everything.
She remembered choosing comfort over truth.
Charm over substance.
A man who said all the right things over a man who never needed to speak to be terrifyingly sincere.
She remembered laughing when Adrian warned her.
He doesn't love you. He's using you.
She remembered thinking he was just jealous. Controlling. Cold.
She remembered walking away while he stood perfectly still, his expression unreadable, his eyes darker than she had ever seen.
She remembered the silence that followed.
In her previous life, she never saw him again—not until the day his name appeared in the headlines, attached to a corporate war so brutal it left entire companies erased overnight.
By then, it was too late.
Evelyn exhaled slowly, forcing her racing thoughts into order.
If the date was right…
then tonight hadn't happened yet.
Tonight, she was supposed to attend the charity gala at the Viremont Hotel.
Tonight, she was supposed to meet the man who would slowly dismantle her life with a smile.
Tonight, she was supposed to send Adrian one final message—
Please don't contact me again.
Her phone vibrated on the bedside table.
Her breath stilled.
She reached for it with trembling fingers.
One unread message.
Adrian Blackwood.
Sent twelve minutes ago.
We need to talk.
Three simple words.
In her past life, she had ignored them.
This time, Evelyn closed her eyes and leaned back against the pillow, heart pounding—not with fear, but with something sharper.
Clarity.
She finally understood what Adrian had been trying to tell her back then.
Love wasn't loud.
It wasn't charming.
It wasn't full of promises designed to soothe insecurity.
Love was consistency.
Protection.
Truth that didn't soften itself to be liked.
And Adrian Blackwood had never lied to her.
She opened the message again.
We need to talk.
In her memory, this conversation ended with her walking away.
In this life—
Evelyn typed.
I know.
She paused, then added a second line.
I'm listening.
The reply came almost instantly.
Where are you?
She hesitated.
In the past, she would have felt trapped by that question. Watched. Controlled.
Now she recognized it for what it truly was.
Concern.
She sent the hospital address.
There was no reply this time.
Evelyn stared at the screen, pulse steadying.
Adrian was not a man who rushed emotionally.
If he was coming, it was because he had already decided to.
The door opened again twenty minutes later.
This time, it wasn't a nurse.
He didn't announce himself. He never did.
The temperature in the room seemed to drop as Adrian Blackwood stepped inside, dressed in a black coat, his presence quiet and overwhelming all at once.
Tall. Impeccably composed.
His expression was controlled, but his eyes—dark, piercing—were locked onto her with an intensity that made her spine straighten instinctively.
She remembered that look.
In her past life, it had terrified her.
Now, she met it calmly.
"You fainted," he said, voice low. Not a question.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because I wasn't taking care of myself."
His brow furrowed slightly.
That wasn't the answer he expected.
She could see it—the brief recalculation, the subtle shift. Adrian was always observant. Always precise.
"You should have called me," he said.
In the past, she would have snapped back.
You're not my keeper.
This time, Evelyn inhaled and said quietly, "You're right. I should have."
The silence that followed was heavy.
Dangerous.
Adrian studied her as if she were a puzzle rearranging itself in front of him.
"You told me not to interfere," he said at last.
"I did."
"And now?"
She met his gaze fully, unflinching.
"Now I'm asking you not to leave."
The words settled between them like a loaded weapon.
Adrian's fingers curled slowly at his side.
"You don't make requests lightly," he said. "You never have."
"I know."
His eyes narrowed. "What changed?"
Everything.
Evelyn smiled faintly—not the flirtatious smile she once used to deflect, but something softer. Honest.
"I learned what happens when I ignore people who tell me the truth."
For the first time since he entered the room, Adrian looked unsettled.
Not angry.
Not controlling.
Uncertain.
And that—
That was new.
"I won't stay if you're doing this out of guilt," he said coldly. "Or fear."
"I'm not," she replied. "I'm doing it because I want to make a different choice."
A long pause.
Adrian took a step closer.
One step.
He stopped at the edge of her bed, looking down at her with the same intensity that once made her feel caged.
Now, she felt grounded.
"If I stay," he said quietly, "things will change."
"I know."
"You don't get to walk away the same way again."
"I won't."
His gaze searched her face, as if hunting for deception.
He found none.
Finally, Adrian straightened.
"Rest," he said. "We'll talk after you're discharged."
He turned to leave.
"Adrian," she called softly.
He stopped.
"Thank you for coming."
He didn't turn back.
But his voice, when it came, was lower than before.
"You never needed to thank me for that."
The door closed behind him.
Evelyn exhaled slowly, heart racing—not with regret this time, but resolve.
She had just changed the first move.
And she knew one thing with absolute certainty—
This life would not be easy.
Because Adrian Blackwood was not a man who loved halfway.
And this time, she was choosing to stay.