Chapter 1

“Andrew, help me…” Anastasia reached out, desperately trying to grasp her husband’s hand, but Andrew merely stood there, staring at her with vacant eyes. “Andrew, the baby… please…”

Pain radiated through Anastasia’s entire body, but the agony in her abdomen was the worst. Her legs felt cold and wet from the blood that continued to flow uncontrollably. She couldn’t move. And the man she was begging for help—her own husband—could do nothing but stare at her with an unfocused gaze.

Andrew was heavily intoxicated and completely out of his mind.

“Andrew… I’m going to die…” Anastasia whispered, hoping those words would finally snap him out of it.

But once again, Andrew remained motionless.

“Die?” Andrew’s hoarse voice finally broke the silence. His eyes suddenly fixed on Anastasia with a wild, almost feverish intensity—first on her swollen belly, then on the pool of blood spreading across the floor.

“Does that mean you’ll get to see Juliette?” he asked hopefully.

Juliette?

Why was he talking about Juliette at a time like this?

“Juliette is dead, Andrew! You need to save me and our baby right now!”

Hearing the desperation in Anastasia’s voice, Andrew only laughed.

“That’s better, Ana. If you die, you’ll be able to see Juliette in the afterlife.” Andrew gently stroked Anastasia’s sweat-soaked hair. “Then beg her for forgiveness. Tell her you’re sorry for killing her.”

“I never killed her! She was the one who…” Anastasia couldn’t finish. The pain coursing through her body had become unbearable. It was too early for her baby to be born, yet the baby was already struggling to come out.

Perhaps her child could feel it too—the suffocating pain and agony.

“Andrew…” Anastasia’s voice grew breathless. “Please…”

But all she could do was watch as Andrew rose to his feet and walked away.

The last thing Anastasia saw before consciousness slipped away was the trail of Andrew’s footprints, the soles of his shoes stained red by the pool of her blood.

“No!”

Anastasia jolted awake.

Her heart felt as though it had just been ripped from her chest. Her body was drenched in sweat, and her breathing came in ragged, uneven gasps. She blinked repeatedly, struggling to adjust her vision to the dimly lit room.

“My baby…” she murmured.

She instinctively placed a hand over her stomach, only to freeze when she realized it was flat.

My baby?! Where is my baby?!

Anastasia hurriedly climbed out of bed. She rushed out of the room, desperate to find anyone who could tell her what had happened to her daughter. If she was still alive, then someone must have saved her. Perhaps her daughter had survived too and was somewhere in this house.

The moment she stepped outside, Anastasia immediately shielded her eyes with the back of her hand against the glaring sunlight.

“Miss Laurent?” A maid stared at her in confusion.

Anastasia was behaving strangely. She normally never left her room looking disheveled, yet now she had stumbled out wearing nothing but her nightclothes, without even a robe.

“Miss Laurent?” the maid called again, louder this time.

Anastasia turned toward her.

“Maria, where is my daughter?” she demanded, grabbing the fifty-year-old maid’s arm, panic written all over her face.

“Your daughter? What daughter are you talking about, Miss? Are you dreaming?” Maria asked, utterly bewildered.

“My daughter! I’m seven months pregnant. I fell in the bathroom, and then Andrew…”

“Anastasia, what are you doing standing there half-naked?”

Anastasia turned toward the familiar voice.

There, standing before her, was someone she was certain had already died.

All the color drained from Anastasia’s face.

“Ju-Juliette? What are you doing here?”

“Ju-Juliette, what are you doing here?” Anastasia asked in confusion.

Hadn’t Juliette died in an armed robbery in City B several months ago? Then why was she standing here now, right in front of her?

“Ana? Did you get drunk last night?” Barbara, Juliette’s biological mother and Anastasia’s stepmother, looked at Anastasia with concern. She approached and pressed the back of her hand against Anastasia’s forehead before leaning closer to sniff her, as though trying to detect any lingering scent of alcohol. But there was none.

“I wasn’t drunk,” Anastasia replied evasively.

She still couldn’t believe Juliette was standing right before her.

Am I dreaming?

Anastasia pinched her own arm and winced at the sharp pain.

This wasn’t a dream.

But then why was Juliette—the woman who was supposed to be dead—standing in front of her?

Anastasia clutched her suddenly pounding head. She was completely bewildered.

What was happening?

She had just fallen hard on her back in the bathroom. Her abdomen had been in excruciating pain, and blood had pooled everywhere. Yet instead of finding her baby, she had woken up to find Juliette standing before her.

“If this is your way of protesting because Juliette has come back, then save it for later, Ana. We have important guests coming today. The Westwood family is coming to visit,” Barbara reminded her.

The Westwood family?

Tristan?

Anastasia staggered backward when Juliette deliberately bumped her shoulder as she walked past. She stared blankly at the backs of the mother and daughter as they walked away.

“Miss, are you all right?” Maria asked again, her voice filled with concern.

“Maria? What’s the date today?”

Maria told her the exact date, month, year, and even the day and time.

The moment Anastasia heard it, her stomach churned violently.

“Miss?” Seeing her mistress turn deathly pale, Maria hurried toward her, but Anastasia raised a hand to stop her.

Anastasia sprinted into the bathroom in her bedroom and vomited the contents of her empty stomach into the toilet until her throat felt raw and burning.

God, what is happening to me? she wondered.

Anastasia washed her face before staggering back toward her bed. Her phone was sitting beside the nightstand in silent mode. She picked it up and checked the date and time displayed on the screen.

Everything Maria had told her was one hundred percent correct.

Have I gone back in time? she wondered as she sank weakly onto the edge of the bed.

If the Westwood family was coming today, then this was the day Judith Westwood had come to propose Juliette as Tristan’s bride.

Anastasia closed her eyes, desperately trying to piece together her scrambled memories.

The day she had collapsed in the bathroom and bled out had been the exact same date—but in a different year.

She had gone back one year.

Back to the time when Juliette was still alive and neither of them had married yet.

That meant Anastasia had been given a chance to change her fate.

And this time, if she wanted to survive—and keep her baby alive—she had to take control of her own life.

Anastasia quickly got to her feet and cleaned herself up. She needed to meet Judith Westwood and set her plan for changing the future into motion.

After changing into a proper outfit, Anastasia headed toward her father’s study. But as she passed through the hallway leading to the living room, she suddenly stopped dead.

There, she saw Juliette and Andrew sitting together.

Andrew had his arms around Juliette, gently comforting her.

Anastasia held her breath and quietly slipped behind a pillar, listening to their conversation.

“Your grandmother proposed to me, Andrew,” Juliette said in a deliberately sorrowful voice. “She wants me to marry your uncle, Tristan.”

“W-What? Has she lost her mind?!” Andrew exclaimed angrily. “How could she possibly marry you off to that idiot?!”

Anastasia froze behind the wall.

Idiot?

Tristan was anything but an idiot!

He might have been cold and reserved, rarely showing much emotion, but in the business world, he was renowned for his sharp instincts and ability to spot opportunities.

In the five years Tristan had been at the helm of Westwood Enterprise, he had managed to double the company’s profits—an achievement that made Andrew’s own abilities seem utterly insignificant.

In her previous life, Anastasia had been foolish enough to believe Andrew’s words and join him in despising Tristan.

But now, her perspective had completely changed.

Tristan Westwood had indeed been involved in a car accident several months ago. A severe brain injury and massive blood loss had left him in a coma for two weeks. When he finally woke up, he was no longer the cold-blooded businessman he had once been. Instead, he behaved like a child.

Everyone knew what had happened, and the news sent the shareholders into a panic. They began searching for someone to replace him.

And the man currently being considered for the position was Andrew.

Anastasia understood perfectly why Juliette had approached Andrew. She believed Andrew would soon become the new man in charge, taking Tristan’s place.

She was very wrong.

“What are you two doing here?” Anastasia asked deliberately, revealing herself.

Andrew and Juliette immediately jumped and hurriedly pulled apart, their faces betraying their nervousness.[]