The Proposal I'll Never Accept

They say every girl remembers the moment she’s proposed to. The way his eyes shine, the promise in his voice, the rush of dreams crashing down like fireworks.

I remembered mine too.

Not because it was magical.

But because it was the beginning of my end.

---

Richard’s words hung in the air like a noose.

“Elena Dawson, marry me.”

In my first life, my heart had leapt. I’d been twenty-two, foolish, and desperate to believe in love. Tears had blurred my vision as I whispered “yes,” blind to the truth that the man on one knee would gut my family’s fortune, my father’s company, and eventually my very soul.

Now, sitting across from him in this charming little café, the same words spilled from his lips, the same confident smile plastered on his face. But this time, my heart stayed cold, my pulse steady.

I looked at his hand resting dramatically over mine. That practiced tilt of his chin, that soft glint in his hazel eyes. So many women would have swooned. I once did.

Now, all I saw was a wolf dressed in silk.

I slipped my hand free, slow and deliberate.

His smile faltered. “Elena?”

I leaned back in my chair, lifting my teacup to my lips. Jasmine, floral, calming. It gave me time to compose myself. “You move awfully fast, Richard. We’ve barely known each other a month.”

“A month is enough,” he insisted, leaning forward. His voice had that smooth, intoxicating lilt I once thought irresistible. “When you know, you know. Don’t you feel it too? That we’re meant for each other?”

I almost laughed. Fate? Destiny? The only fate I’d met with him was betrayal.

“You flatter me,” I said instead, soft, coy, the way he wanted me to be. “But marriage is… a serious commitment. Shouldn’t we take time to know one another first?”

His eyes narrowed, just for a flicker. But then his grin returned, that trademark charm sliding back in place. “Elena, don’t you trust me?”

No.

Not anymore. Not ever again.

---

His Lies, My Memory

In my first life, this was where he’d pulled out the velvet box, revealing a modest ring. Not flashy, not ostentatious just enough to make me believe he was humble, sincere. He’d spun a story about us building a future together, about wanting nothing more than to protect and cherish me.

I’d been blind, stupidly in love.

But now? Now I remembered everything that came after.

The way he’d driven a wedge between me and my father.

The whispers he planted that my mother hated him.

The night he stole away to another woman’s bed while wearing the same ring he swore was for me.

And worse the day he signed away Dawson Holdings, the company my father had built with his blood and sweat, into his own name. All because I handed him the keys.

My stomach twisted at the memory, but I forced a serene smile.

“Trust is earned, Richard. Don’t you agree?”

He blinked, caught off guard. Then, recovering, he laughed soft and indulgent, as if I were a silly child. “And how do I earn it?”

By dying and staying dead, I thought bitterly.

Out loud, I said, “Time. Patience. Effort. If you’re serious about me, prove it.”

---

A Calculated Refusal

Richard wasn’t used to being denied. I could see it in the way his jaw tightened, in the faint twitch of his brow. But he covered it quickly, reaching for my hand again, this time more possessively.

“Elena, I don’t want to waste time. I love you.”

My lips almost curled. Love? He loved my last name, my family’s money, the doors I opened for him. That was all.

But I widened my eyes, feigning shyness. “Love is a strong word.”

“It’s the right word,” he pressed. “You feel it too. I can see it when you look at me.”

Ah, the arrogance. In my first life, I had mistaken it for confidence. Now, I recognized it for what it was: entitlement.

I let him hold my hand a moment longer before slipping free once more. “You’ll have to forgive me, Richard. I’m not ready to give you an answer.”

His smile froze. “Not ready?”

“Marriage is forever,” I said, tilting my head with a gentle smile. “Don’t you want me to be absolutely certain? Don’t you want me to walk into it without doubt?”

He studied me, eyes searching. Then, slowly, he nodded. “Of course. You’re right.” His lips curved again, but this time the charm was strained. “But I’ll win your heart, Elena. You’ll see.”

I sipped my tea to hide my smirk. Not this time, Richard. Never again.

---

My Silent Vow

When I returned home that evening, I stood before the mirror in my room, staring at the woman reflected back.

The same face, but sharper eyes.

The same lips, but tighter smiles.

The same heart, but heavier now heavier with knowledge of betrayal, pain, and death.

I pressed my hands to the cool glass. “Never again.”

This was my vow. I would not marry Richard Hale. I would not let him ruin my family, my life. Not this time.

I had ten years’ worth of knowledge, and I would use it to change everything.

---

The Gala

That night, my parents insisted we attend a charity gala at the Grand Royale Hotel. In my first life, it had been one of those forgettable events glittering gowns, champagne flutes, endless small talk. But now, I knew it marked something else.

It was the night I first crossed paths with Alexander Knight.

The ballroom shimmered with golden chandeliers, marble floors gleaming under the warm light. Men in tailored tuxedos, women draped in jewels, laughter and the clinking of glasses filled the air.

I held my mother’s arm as we entered, my gown a flowing crimson silk. Heads turned not at me, but at her. Grace Dawson, the elegant society matron. Beside us, my father walked proudly, already chatting with acquaintances.

“Elena, darling,” my mother murmured, squeezing my hand. “Smile. You look like you’re plotting murder.”

If only you knew.

I forced a smile, letting her lead me further into the crowd. Every word, every handshake, every polite laugh I played my part. But inside, I was focused. Watching. Waiting.

And then

I felt it. A presence.

Across the room, tall and commanding in a perfectly cut black suit, stood a man whose aura shifted the air around him. Broad shoulders, chiseled jaw, dark hair slicked neatly back. But it was his eyes that arrested me piercing steel-gray, sharp as midnight blades.

Alexander Knight.

In my first life, he had been a quiet shadow on the edges of society, a name whispered with both reverence and fear. The cold billionaire who ruled from the sidelines, who never let anyone close.

And yet, those eyes were locked on me.

The chatter of the ballroom faded. The music dimmed. All I could feel was the weight of his gaze.

In my first life, I had ignored him. Chosen wrong. Chosen ruin.

This time… this time would be different.

---

My breath caught as our gazes held across the glittering ballroom.

For the first time since waking up in this second chance at life, I felt something shift.

Danger. Power. Possibility.

Alexander Knight was watching me.

And something told me… he already knew I wasn’t the same Elena Dawson anymore.