002. Reborn...

Helena gasped, her eyes flying open as air rushed into her lungs.

The room slowly came into view: chandeliers, mahogany furniture, and worried faces all looking at her. She realised she was in a leather chair, her hands clutching the armrests so tightly her knuckles were white.

"Helena? Are you alright?"

That voice. She knew that voice.

Helena’s head snapped to the side, and there was Michael, sitting next to her. His handsome face was marred by a frown that suggested he was worried. But she understood him more now; she could see the truth, what he was hiding underneath that facade.

"I... I..." Words wouldn't come. Her hand flew to her throat, feeling for the rope burn that should be there. But her skin was smooth, unmarked.

"Miss Reynolds, do you think we should call a doctor?" An older man in an expensive suit stood at the front of the conference table, a pile of papers in front of him.

Helena's eyes scanned the room. It was the Reynolds family conference room, and at the far end, her dad looked annoyed by the interruption. 

Her mom sat next to him, her lips pressed together in disapproval. Across from her, Victoria sat with her perfectly styled platinum blonde hair and a small smile that seemed a little too confident.

Victoria. The woman who had murdered her.

"No, I'm fine," Helena managed. "Please, continue."

The suited man, Mr Whitmore, her grandfather's lawyer, she remembered now, cleared his throat. "Very well. As I was saying, we're gathered here today for the reading of Harold Reynolds' last will and testament."

Helena's breath caught. Grandfather's will. She looked at the papers in Mr. Whitmore's hands and saw the date: March 15, 2024.

Two years ago. This was two years ago.

"This can't be real," she whispered.

"Helena?" Michael's hand found hers. She flinched at his touch, jerking her hand away. He blinked, surprised. "Are you sure you're okay?"

She stared at him… like really looked at him. There was no malice in his eyes, no coldness; instead, they reflected genuine warmth, the kind you’d expect from a devoted fiancé. 

Because that's what he was supposed to be right now. They weren't married yet, she hadn't signed over the shares yet, and she was still alive.

"I'm fine," she said, more firmly this time. "Just felt a bit dizzy for a moment."

She instinctively placed her hand on her stomach. It was flat and empty; no baby growing inside her because that baby had died, taken from her before having a chance to be born. 

Memories flooded back, overwhelming her like waves. She remembered Victoria's hand over her mouth, Michael kicking the chair away, the rope tightening around her neck, and the darkness pressing in around her.

And then that voice: Do you want revenge?

She'd been given a second chance. Somehow, impossibly, she'd been sent back.

"If everyone is ready," Mr. Whitmore continued, adjusting his glasses, "I'll proceed with the reading."

Helena sat up straighter, forcing herself to focus. She knew what was coming, but she needed to hear it again; she needed to confirm this was really happening.

"To my beloved granddaughter, Helena Reynolds," Mr. Whitmore read, "I leave fifty per cent of my shares in Reynolds Enterprises, along with my estate in the Hamptons and all associated assets."

Gasps echoed around the room. Victoria's fork clattered against the teacup she'd been holding. Her father, Richard Reynolds, shot to his feet.

"Fifty per cent? That's impossible! I'm his son…"

"Please, Mr. Reynolds, let me finish," Mr. Whitmore said calmly. "There is a condition attached to this inheritance."

Helena's mother, Margaret, leaned forward. "What condition?"

"Helena must be legally married within six months of this reading. If she fails to meet this requirement, the shares will be distributed equally among the remaining family members."

Silence fell over the room. Helena could feel their eyes on her, sizing her up. In her past life, she'd been overwhelmed by this moment, terrified of disappointing everyone, and desperate to prove she was worthy of Grandfather's faith in her.

But now? Now she saw it for what it was. The beginning of Victoria's and Michael's plan. The moment they'd decided she needed to die.

"Well," Michael said, breaking the tension. His arm slipped around Helena's shoulders, and it took everything in her not to shove him away. "That's not a problem at all."

Everyone turned to look at him.

"Helena and I are already engaged," Michael continued smoothly, pulling Helena closer. She felt his breath on her cheek and wanted to vomit. "I love her so much. I don't mind speeding up the wedding so she can get what's rightfully hers."

The room erupted in exclamations. Her mother clapped her hands together. "Oh, how wonderful! We had no idea you two were so serious."

"We wanted to keep it private," Michael said, squeezing Helena's shoulder. "But under the circumstances..."

Helena watched him, this man she'd once believed loved her. He was such a good actor. The devoted boyfriend, the loving fiancé. How had she never seen through it? How had she been so blind?

"Congratulations, dear," her father said, though his tone was flat. "We'll begin planning the engagement party immediately."

"And the wedding, of course," her mother added, already pulling out her phone. "Six months isn't much time, but we can make it work. Something elegant, nothing too flashy. We don't want people thinking we're showing off."

Victoria stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. "Excuse me," she said tightly. "I need some air."

She swept from the room, and Helena noticed Michael's eyes following her. Of course. They were still together in this timeline. Still plotting against her.

But this time, Helena knew the truth. This time, she wouldn't be their victim.

"Helena, are you listening?" Her mother's sharp voice cut through her thoughts.

"Sorry, what?"

"I said we'll host the engagement party this week.”

"That sounds fine," Helena said neutrally.

Her mother blinked, clearly surprised by her lack of protest. "Good. Well, we have a lot to do. Richard, call the event planner. Helena, you're coming with me to look at venues."

"Actually," Helena stood up, carefully extracting herself from Michael's embrace, "I need some time to process all of this. It's been overwhelming."

"But we need to…"

"I'll be back in a few hours," Helena said firmly. "I just need some air."

Without waiting for permission, she walked out of the conference room. She could feel their stares burning into her back, but she didn't care. She needed to think, to plan.

The elevator ride down felt eternal. When she finally stepped out onto the busy New York street, the late afternoon sun blinded her momentarily. Helena started walking, not really paying attention to where she was going.

Her mind raced with possibilities. 

She could break off the engagement publicly and humiliate Michael the way he deserved. She could expose Victoria's true nature and reveal her as the countryside bumpkin she really was. She could take control of the company and cut them all out.

But she needed to be smart about this. In her past life, she'd been impulsive and emotional. That had made her easy to manipulate. This time would be different.

"I need allies," she murmured to herself. "People I can trust."

But who? Her family had never really been on her side. Her grandfather was gone. In her past life, she'd been so isolated, so alone.

A horn blared, jerking Helena from her thoughts.

She looked up and felt a wave of panic as she realised she had walked into the street. A car was zooming toward her, speeding too quickly to stop.

Time seemed to slow. Helena's body froze, her mind flashing back to the rope, the darkness, and the death she'd already experienced once. Was this it? Had she been given a second chance only to die again?

Suddenly, strong hands grabbed her waist, yanking her backwards. She stumbled, falling against a solid chest as the car roared past, missing her by inches.

"Are you crazy?" a deep voice said above her. "You could've been killed."

Helena's heart pounded against her ribs. She turned in her rescuer's arms, looking up into a face she recognised from her past life.

His grey-blue eyes locked onto hers, filled with worry and maybe something more—was it recognition?

Alexander Grant.

He was even more striking in person than she remembered from the few times they’d crossed paths. His dark hair was perfectly styled, and his sharp features stood out. He had an athletic build, which you could notice even through his expensive suit. 

But what really caught her attention were his eyes; they were intelligent and intense, as if he could see right through her, which made her a bit uneasy.

They stared at each other, both breathing hard from the close call. Helena felt something pass between them, some electric current she couldn't name.

"Thank you," she managed finally. "I wasn't paying attention."

"Clearly." But his tone wasn't harsh. His hands were still on her waist, steadying her. "Are you alright?"

"I am now."

Alexander's gaze swept over her face, and Helena had the strangest sensation that he was memorising her features. "You look familiar. Have we met?"