Chapter two- A new ally in the game

Anna POV

It was a long, silent and suffocating light.

I sat on the edge of the grand bed, staring at the unconscious form of Jackson Blackwell. His broad chest rose and fell in steady breaths, his face peaceful—almost boyish in sleep. A cruel contrast to the man I knew. The man who had once taken everything from me.

A bitter smile curled my lips.

I had drugged him.

He never saw it coming.

The sleeping pill had dissolved seamlessly into his drink, my hands steady as I watched him sip it. I had waited, my heart pounding in my ears, as exhaustion crept into his muscles. He had barely finished his wine before his body betrayed him, his sharp, predatory gaze dulling, his limbs going slack. Now, he lay beside me, completely defenseless.

My fingers curled into the silk of my nightgown. My mind swirled with flashes of my past—our wedding night, but not this one. The first time around, it had been different.

I had been weak.

Jackson had not been gentle with me.

I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the memory away. The way his hands had held me down, the way my pleas had fallen on deaf ears. The suffocating weight of helplessness, of knowing I had been nothing more than a means to an end.

But this time… this time, he would not touch me.

This time, I had control.

I exhaled slowly, shaking away the ghosts of my past. I couldn’t afford to let them cloud my judgment. Not when I had so much to do. Jackson and Rachel Blackwell had destroyed me once, stolen my child, my future. But fate had given me another chance, and I would use it wisely.

I glanced at Jackson one last time.

The man who had once been my nightmare.

The man who would now become my prey.

The Next Morning,

The dining hall was a picture of wealth and power. Chandeliers bathed the room in golden light, the long marble table adorned with expensive china and silverware.

Jackson sat at the head of the table, freshly dressed in an expensive navy-blue suit, his expression unreadable. Across from him sat his mother, Rachel Blackwell—elegant as ever, with her cold, calculating eyes pinned on me like a predator studying its prey.

I held her gaze, unflinching.

I would not bow.

Beside me sat Olivia Blackwell, Jackson’s younger sister. The only one in this family who had ever shown me kindness. She was quiet, reserved, her light brown hair falling over her face as she focused on her untouched breakfast.

The tension in the room was suffocating.

Jackson cleared his throat. “Anna,” he began, his voice smooth, measured. “I was thinking we could visit an art gallery today. Do you like art?”

I blinked, taken aback.

In my past life, Jackson had never cared for my interests. He had never asked what I liked or disliked.

Why now?

I forced a polite smile. “I’d love that.”

Rachel’s spoon clinked against her teacup, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly at Jackson. Whatever he was doing, it was unexpected—even to her.

Jackson simply sipped his coffee, his expression unreadable.

An opportunity to get some air. I needed that.

I stood, excusing myself to get water from the kitchen. As I walked past the dining hall doors, I heard it—whispers.

Rachel’s voice, low and furious.

“Did you sleep with her?”

I froze.

Jackson’s voice followed, quieter, controlled. “No.”

A sharp intake of breath. Then—Rachel’s anger exploded. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Jackson? You know why we married her! You need to act fast and get her pregnant. That was the deal! I hate seeing this thing in my house.”

My blood ran cold.

Pregnant?

That was why they married me?

My heart pounded as I pressed myself against the wall, straining to hear more.

Jackson’s silence was deafening.

And then—his quiet agreement.

He wasn’t the mastermind.

He wasn’t in on the plan.

He was just a pawn.

I stepped back, my hands trembling. My entire past life had been built on the belief that Jackson and his mother had both wanted me dead. But now…

Rachel wanted an heir.

But if that was true, why had she poisoned me?

Why had she killed my unborn child if she desperately yearned for a child.

Something wasn’t adding up.

A sharp breath left my lips. I had spent so much time hating Jackson, so much time preparing to destroy him, but now…

Now, I wasn’t sure who my true enemy was.

Hours later, the gallery was grand, filled with high society and whispers of business deals disguised as casual conversations.

Jackson, ever the businessman, wasted no time in immersing himself in conversation with powerful investors, completely ignoring my presence.

Good.

I needed space.

I wandered through the exhibits, my fingers tracing the edges of each frame as I lost myself in thought. The colors, the brushstrokes, the emotions captured in each piece—it was almost enough to drown out the chaos in my mind.

Almost.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

The deep voice startled me.

I turned to find a man standing beside me, his gaze fixed on the same painting I had been admiring.

Dark-skinned, brown eyes sharp with intelligence.

There was something about him—something unsettling, yet familiar.

I nodded cautiously. “Yes.”

He glanced at me then, a slow, knowing smile curving his lips. “You must be Mrs. Blackwell.”

My pulse spiked.

I forced a neutral expression. “And you are?”

“Harris.” He extended a hand. “Just a man who knows the game.”

The way he said it—the weight behind his words—sent a shiver down my spine.

I hesitated before shaking his hand, my mind already racing. Who was he? What did he want?

As if reading my thoughts, Harris leaned in slightly.

“I have a proposition for you,” he murmured, his voice low, conspiratorial. “One that might just help you in the long run.”

I narrowed my eyes. “And what proposition is that?”

His smile sharpened.

“A partnership. To destroy Jackson Blackwell and his family.”

The air between us crackled with tension.

I stiffened. He knew. Somehow, he knew.

But how?

And more importantly—why did he want them ruined too?

A million thoughts raced through my mind, but one question stood out above all the rest.

Was Harris reborn like me?

I stared into his dark brown eyes, searching for answers.

And for the first time since my rebirth, I felt truly afraid.

My breath hitched. I had spent years plotting Jackson’s downfall, yet here was a stranger offering me a shortcut—an alliance against the Blackwells. But why? What was his stake in this?

I forced a calm expression, though my pulse pounded wildly. “And why exactly do you want them destroyed?”

Harris chuckled, the sound low and dangerous. “Let’s just say I have unfinished business with the Blackwell family. And you, Mrs. Blackwell, are in a very… unique position to help me.”

A warning bell rang in my head. I had spent my past life trusting the wrong people. I wouldn’t make that mistake again.

I took a step back. “I don’t make deals without knowing the full price.”

His smile widened, but there was no warmth in it. “Smart woman. I like that.” He slipped a card into my hand, his fingers brushing mine. “Think about it. When you’re ready, call me.”

Before I could respond, a hand gripped my waist. Firm. Possessive.

Jackson.

His voice was deceptively soft. “Making friends, darling?”

I looked up, straight into his piercing blue eyes.

And for the first time, I saw something new in them.

Fear.