Chapter 2

Claire's voice cracked by the last few words. I hadn’t even processed what she was implying when Lucas stepped forward and helped her up. When he turned to look at me, his gaze carried something new—hatred.

“This has nothing to do with Claire,” he said sharply. “Why would you treat her like that?”

The accusation came out of nowhere.

“I didn’t—”

“You really were spoiled rotten, weren’t you?” he cut me off. “So spoiled you think the world should bend to you.”

Before I could even respond, someone nearby stepped up with an overly eager smile, holding out a gift box.

“Mr. Whitmore, a little something to celebrate your engagement to Miss Meyer—”

Before he finished, Lucas snatched the box and hurled it at me.

“Destiny,” he growled, “apologize to Claire.”

“If you don’t, I’ll call off the engagement. I don’t care if the Whitmores aren’t as powerful as the Meyers, I will not marry an evil woman like you!”

...

The box was beautifully wrapped, but one sharp corner sliced my chin open as it hit me.

There was a collective gasp around the room, but no one dared step forward.

I raised my hand to touch my face. Blood streaked across my palm.

The way Lucas looked at me—cold, furious, disgusted—was exactly how he’d looked in my past life whenever he humiliated me for Claire.

Something inside me froze over.

“I won’t apologize for something I didn’t do.”

“Fine,” he said. “Then don’t come crying to me later!”

With that, he turned and walked out, his arm around Claire.

My parents were horrified when they saw the cut on my chin. They rushed me home and called our private doctor to treat it immediately.

Watching their anxious faces, I felt something I hadn’t expected—relief.

Thank God I was given a second chance. A chance to do things differently.

This time, my parents were still alive. The Meyers’ fortune was still ours.

And I was going to stay as far away from Lucas and Claire as humanly possible.

A few days later, the Morgans sent over the engagement gifts. The boxes filled the entire first floor of our estate.

Among them was a family heirloom bracelet, passed down through generations of Morgans. A clear sign of how much they valued this match.

I felt a sharp pang in my chest.

In my last life, the Whitmores had known how deeply I loved Lucas—and still, they told people they didn’t approve of me. Said I had begged and clung until they “reluctantly” let their son marry me.

There was no engagement party. No gifts. The “wedding” was just a meal shared between our two families.

I still remembered his parents mocking me at the dinner table. The way Lucas looked at me like I was nothing.

Now, comparing that to how the Morgans treated me—I knew, without a doubt, I was lucky to have this do-over.

So I decided: I would personally choose Liam’s engagement gift.

At a century-old tailor shop, I was discussing cufflink designs with the master craftsman when the doorbell rang.

Lucas walked in, hand-in-hand with Claire.

He spotted me and immediately frowned.

“What are you doing here?”

The tailor answered on my behalf.

“Miss Meyer wanted to personally design her fiancé’s engagement outfit. She has quite the eye for detail.”

Lucas glanced at the sketches on the table, then scoffed.

“I’ve told you a hundred times—I don’t want to marry you. No matter what you do, I’m not changing my mind.

“And I hate initials on cufflinks. That's so tacky.”

I looked at the sketch in front of me. The letter “L” was engraved into the design.

He clearly thought it was for him.

“Actually, those are for—”

“Lucas, this dress is gorgeous!” Claire suddenly gasped, stepping past me to run her fingers across a crimson gown on display.

Lucas’s expression softened. “If you like it, have the tailor make you one just like it.”

“But I want to wear this dress tonight,” she said sweetly. “You promised to take me to the concert.”

His smile returned, and without hesitation, he turned to the tailor.

“Alter the dress to Claire’s measurements. We need it ready for tonight.”

I frowned. “Lucas, that’s my engagement dress.”

He didn’t even blink. “I’m busy. I don’t have time for whatever party the Meyers are throwing.”