CHAPTER 2 — SHOCKING AWAKENING

(Marianna's POV)

I jolted awake, heart hammered against my ribs. Sunlight streamed through familiar curtains. My old bedroom. The one from the family estate.

"Impossible," I whispered.

My fingers traced the silk sheets I haven't slept in for years. I touched my stomach, expecting to feel the excruciating pain. Nothing.

I lifted my sleepwear and faced the mirror to check for any wounds. Nothing. It's still smooth, flat and finely toned. Have I always been like this?

A knock at the door interrupted my spiraling thoughts.

"Miss Marianna? Your grandfather requests your presence for breakfast. He's quite eager to discuss something with you."

Rita, the old housekeeper, said. Her voice is exactly as I remembered.

"I'll... I'll be right down," I managed to say.

When she left, I stumbled to the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face. The mirror reflects a younger version of myself, fewer lines around the eyes, hair still thick and vibrant.

"This can't be real."

My gaze drifted to the calendar hanging by the vanity. The date made my knees buckled.

June 3rd, 2019.

Five years in the past. Before everything fell apart.

I went downstairs and saw that they all gathered around the breakfast table like nothing ever happened. Like they never destroyed me.

Mother with her perfect posture, father hiding behind his newspaper, Sophia texting at the table.

And at the head sat Grandfather. Grandfather who died five years ago. How much I have missed him.

"There she is!" he boomed, looking remarkably alive for a dead man. "The genius behind the Sapru Deal!"

"The... what?" I managed to say. I had totally forgotten some events that took place.

Martha's smile tightens. "Marianna, darling, don't be modest. Everyone's talking about how you closed the impossible deal."

I slided into my seat, watching them all carefully. Are these really the same people who orchestrated my downfall? They look identical, Martha's calculating eyes, father's weak chin, Sophia's false smile.

"Sorry, I'm just... tired."

"Well, perk up," Grandfather said, passing me a folder. "We're meeting the Lombardos tomorrow."

The Lombardos. The name crashes through my confusion like a wrecking ball. In my timeline, our collaboration with the Lombardos was the beginning of the end. The catalyst that led to my family's betrayal five years from now.

"Tomorrow?" I echoed.

"Yes, tomorrow." Grandfather scrutinized me. "Is that a problem?"

I met his gaze, the same steely gray eyes I inherited. Is this really happening? Have I actually traveled back in time? Or is this some elaborate dream as I lie dying somewhere?

"No," I decided, a plan already forming. "No problem at all. In fact, I have some... ideas about the Lombardo partnership."

"That's my girl," Grandfather said, squeezing my shoulder.

His touch felt real. Too real for a dream.

"Excuse me," I said, rising from the table. "I need to prepare for tomorrow's meeting."

As I left, I caught Mother and Father exchanging glances. The same look they shared right before they betrayed me. But this time, I saw it coming.

This time, I'll be ready.

This time, I'll change everything.

I strode through the glass doors of Kingwicke Enterprises to an unexpected chorus of applause.

Employees lined the hallway, clapping and smiling as I made my way toward my corner office, each step punctuated by confused glances at the faces beaming at me.

"What's going on here?" I asked, clutching my leather portfolio tighter against my chest “Was that Sapru really a big deal?”

A familiar figure in a crisp black blazer bumped my shoulder. Sandra Salton, with her signature jet-black bob that framed her angular face, handed me a steaming cup of coffee.

"Are you seriously pretending you don't know, or are you just that good at acting modest?" Sandra's ruby lips curled into a knowing smile. The scent of her expensive perfume mingled with the coffee aroma.

I unlocked my office door, still bewildered by the reception. Sandra followed, her burgundy stilettos matching the determined look in her eyes. She gripped her file board with one hand while I settled into my plush leather chair.

"Since you have zero friends besides me......" Sandra rolled her eyes dramatically, "......I guess I have to be the one to tell you."

Before I could respond, she pulled out a small paper slip from her blazer pocket and slid it across my polished mahogany desk.

I stared at the handwritten phone number, raising an eyebrow. "What am I supposed to do with this?"

"That," Sandra leaned forward, lowering her voice conspiratorially, "is your blind date. I'm not letting you waste another minute on Tyler the non-billionaire." She straightened up, smoothing her pencil skirt. "I will not take no for an answer this time."

I scoffed. I remembered Sandra hated Tyler so much she made sure I wasn't with him.

"I agree," I nodded, tucking the paper into my blazer pocket. "I'll reach out to him later."

Sandra's eyes widened as she leaned across my desk, studying my face. "Did you hit your head somewhere? Or am I hallucinating? You, Marianna Kingwicke, agreeing to a blind date without a fight?"

"Maybe I'm the one hallucinating," I murmured, running my fingers along the edge of my desk. "This feels like a dream I don't want to wake up from."

"What are you mumbling about?" Sandra asked, flipping through her files.

"Nothing. Tell me about this mystery man."

Sandra's eyes lit up. "All I know is he's filthy rich, extremely good-looking, and has connections."

"Fascinating. Does this paragon have a name?"

She tilted her head, thinking. "Vin, I believe"

A sharp knock interrupted us. My secretary, Emma, poked her head through the doorway.

"Ms. Kingwicke, someone's here to see you. He doesn't have an appointment."

I glanced at Sandra, who shrugged. "Let them in."

The door swung open, and Tyler strode in as if he owned the place. He couldn't hide the desperation in his eyes as he crossed the room, leaning down for a kiss. I turned my head, his lips grazing my cheek instead.

"What do you want, Tyler?" My voice was ice.

Confusion flickered across his face. "Can't I kiss my girlfriend anymore?" He sounded wounded, his hand lingering on my shoulder.

I shook it off.

"You can't just waltz in without notice and expect me to allow it." I spat.

Sandra jumped in, flipping pages in her binder with exaggerated focus. "Your next appointment is in less than five minutes, Marianna”

She moved toward Tyler, gently but firmly guiding him toward the door.

"Wait, hold on!" He twisted away from her grip. "Can you at least promise me you'll come to the reunion as my plus one?" His eyes held genuine panic.

My stomach clenched. The reunion. Awful memories I buried flashed through my mind.

"I'm sorry," I said, leaning back in my chair. "But I won't be attending."

Tyler's face drained of color, a reaction that seemed extreme for a simple social event. What wasn't he telling me?

Sandra's patience visibly evaporated as she physically maneuvered him toward the exit. Once the door closed behind him, she leaned against it, blowing a strand of hair from her face.

"He's such a pain in the ass," she muttered. "How did you put up with that for so long?"

That was the question I'd been asking myself. How had I endured not just Tyler, but everything else? And why did I suddenly feel like I'd stepped into someone else's life?

Sandra clapped her hands together. "You know what? Let's celebrate after work. Your quarterly success deserves champagne, and I think we both need to decompress."

I gestured at the stack of reports covering my desk. "I still have to get through these."

"After," she insisted, her tone brooking no argument.

She dragged me to an upscale bar in the central district after work, a sleek establishment with low lighting and private booths. She ordered top-shelf tequila shots without consulting the menu.

"This one is for your incredible success," she declared, raising the first glass before downing it. "This is for finally breaking up with that insufferable man." She took the second shot. Pausing with the third glass halfway to her lips, she grinned. "And this one—well, because we came to drink."

I laughed, a sound that felt both foreign and familiar, and matched her shot for shot.

By the fourth round, the room had begun to spin pleasantly. "I think we should head up to our room," I mumbled, trying to maintain my composure.

Sandra's attention drifted past me, towards a stranger

"You go ahead. I'll catch up with you soon."

I groaned but left her to her conquest. I found my way to our room and collapsed onto the king-side bed where I fell asleep

I had the strangest dream, unfamiliar hands slid across my waist, pulling me against a solid chest. The scent wasn't Sandra's perfume, but something darker, masculine.

And by the time I woke up, I found myself in the arms of a stranger