Chapter 4: I’m Not Marrying Him

SERAPHINA POV

“This time, everything will be different.”

My own words echoed in my ears as I stood in front of the vanity mirror, staring at the reflection of a younger me. Twenty-one years old. No wedding ring yet. No wounds from the fall. No baby lost forever.

My hands trembled as I touched my face, my neck, my flat stomach. Everything felt real, too real.

I wasn’t dreaming. This was my childhood bedroom in my own family mansion — the same pink l ace curtains, the same vanity cluttered with skincare products I hadn’t used in years, the same faint scent of lavender from the diffuser. A tiny calendar lay on the nightstand. I snatched it up, heart pounding, and checked the date.

It corresponded with the date on my phone. One week before the engagement ceremony.

A chill ran down my spine. I had really come back. Fate, or whatever cruel force controlled such things, had given me a second chance. The memories of betrayal, the blood on the marble stairs, Alexander’s desperate voice — they weren’t nightmares. They were warnings.

To test it, I walked to the window and looked out at the familiar garden. The roses my mother insisted on planting were in full bloom, exactly as I remembered. Downstairs, I could already hear the faint sounds of servants preparing breakfast. Events were unfolding precisely as they had three years ago.

I sat on the edge of the bed, forcing myself to breathe steadily. No more naive, lovesick girl. That version of Seraphina died on those stairs. The woman who opened her eyes today would not make the same mistakes.

The day passed in a surreal blur. I moved through it like an actress who already knew every line. I ate breakfast with my family, nodding politely as my father, Victor Hart, droned on about the upcoming merger benefits. Selena sat across from me, smiling sweetly, but I caught her watching me with narrowed eyes. I knew she could sensed something was off but I didn’t care. Let her wonder.

By afternoon, the household buzzed with preparations. Florists arrived with samples for the engagement banquet. Tailors came for last-minute fittings. Everything was exactly as it had been before — except me.

When evening came, Ethan arrived for the family dinner, looking every bit the perfect fiancé. Tall, handsome, charismatic in his tailored suit, carrying a bouquet of white roses — my favorite, or so he always claimed. In my first life, my heart would have fluttered at the sight of him.

Now, all I felt was ice-cold rage.

“Seraphina, darling,” he said warmly, leaning in to kiss my cheek. His cologne — the same one that once made me feel safe — now turned my stomach. I remembered his voice dripping with contempt: I never wanted to marry her. She was just a convenient package.

My hand twitched at my side. For one dangerous second, I nearly slapped him across that perfect, lying face. The urge was so strong my fingers curled into a fist. But I held back. Slapping him now would be impulsive. Satisfying, yes — but I needed to be smarter this time. I needed to destroy the foundation they had built their betrayal on.

I forced a small, tight smile instead. “Ethan. You’re early.”

He chuckled, mistaking my stiffness for bridal nerves. “Can’t blame a man for being eager to see his future wife. You look beautiful tonight.”

Selena appeared beside us, linking her arm with mine in that fake sisterly way. “Doesn’t she? Though she seems a little tense today. Wedding stress already, Sera?”

Her eyes probed mine, searching for something. I met her gaze steadily, no longer the trusting fool she had manipulated so easily. “Something like that.”

Dinner was served in the grand dining room — crystal glasses, fine china, the whole ostentatious display my father loved. Victor Hart sat at the head of the table like a king, Mother was beside him looking elegantly detached as always. Ethan played his role flawlessly: attentive, charming, discussing business prospects with my father while occasionally squeezing my hand under the table.

Every touch made my skin crawl. I kept replaying the night of my death — his casual cruelty, Selena’s triumphant smirk, the way they had planned to discard me like yesterday’s trash. The pregnancy announcement that meant nothing to them. The fall. The blood.

I barely touched my food.

Victor cleared his throat halfway through the main course, raising his glass of expensive red wine. His voice carried the weight of finality.

“I’m pleased to announce that the engagement ceremony will proceed next week as planned. The merger between Hart Group and Knight Holdings will be sealed beautifully. This union will secure our families’ futures for generations.”

The table murmured in approval. Ethan smiled at me, squeezing my hand again. Selena’s lips curved in a knowing little smirk.

I calmly set down my fork. The soft clink against the porcelain seemed deafening in the sudden quiet that followed my movement.

All eyes turned to me.

“I’m not marrying Ethan Knight,” I said, my voice steady and clear.

For a heartbeat, the room was frozen in stunned silence.

Victor’s glass stopped halfway to his lips. Ethan’s charming smile faltered. Selena’s eyes widened, a flash of genuine shock crossing her face before she masked it.

“Seraphina,” my father said, his tone low and dangerous, the one he used when subordinates dared to question him. “What nonsense is this? The arrangements have been made for months. This is not a game.”

Ethan recovered quickly, laughing lightly as if I had told a poor joke. “Darling, if this is about wedding jitters, we can talk about it. I know the pressure has been immense, but we’re in this together.”

Together. The word almost made me laugh. In my first life, I had believed that. I had clung to it like a lifeline.

I looked directly at him, letting every ounce of my reborn fury show in my eyes. “No, Ethan. We are not in this together. And I am not marrying you. Not next week. Not ever.”

Selena leaned forward, her voice laced with false concern. “Sera, what’s gotten into you? This isn’t like you at all.”

Exactly, and that was the point.

Victor slammed his hand on the table, rattling the silverware. “Seraphina Hart, you will not embarrass this family. The engagement will proceed. End of discussion.”

But it wasn’t the end. Not anymore.

I rose slowly from my chair, meeting my father’s glare without flinching. For the first time in either of my lives, I felt truly free.

“We’ll see about that, Father.”

The silence that followed was heavier than any fall down those stairs.