Chapter 2: Reborn as the Wife He Killed

“How…how can it be him…” Alia’s heart raced as she stared in disbelief. The gunshot from last night seemed to still echo in her ears, and the cold, unyielding face was vivid in her memory. Yet here was Marcellus, no longer ruthless and indifferent. His gaze was soft, almost tender, filled with a strange mix of love and unease, as if she were his most cherished treasure.

“You… you…” Alia tried to speak, but her voice was hoarse. She forced herself to calm down, struggling to keep a steady expression. However, her wide eyes betrayed a sense of shock and fear she could not hide, and her trembling hands revealed the turmoil within her.

Marcellus noticed her reaction, and with surprising gentleness, he lowered his head and held her hand firmly. “I know you’re still weak. Don’t worry. Whatever you want to say, you can tell me after you’ve rested.” His hand was warm and reassuring, conveying a comforting strength. But to Alia, this warmth only intensified her dread.

Images from the night before replayed in her mind—she remembered the woman lying in a pool of blood, the sound of the gun echoing in the darkness. She had tried to run but was unable to escape the final, fateful shot. And now, here was that same man, the merciless killer, gazing at her with tenderness, as though none of it had ever happened.

Alia’s voice trembled as she finally managed to say, “You… I…” The words caught in her throat as realization dawned on her. She glanced over at the maid standing nearby and urgently said, “Bring me a mirror.”

The maid hesitated, then responded gently, “My lady, rest assured, you’re as beautiful as ever. In fact, you’re even more delicate after your illness.”

“No, I need a mirror!” Alia insisted with an urgency she had never felt before. Her tone left both the maid and Marcellus slightly taken aback. The “Lady” they knew had always been calm and gentle. Though puzzled, the maid quickly obeyed, bringing over an ornate silver mirror and helping Alia sit up so she could see herself clearly.

In the mirror, a woman’s face came into view. Her features were soft and graceful, her pale complexion lending her an ethereal, fragile beauty. Her clear eyes held a vulnerable glint, evoking a sense of tenderness. Her face was strikingly perfect, every feature like an artist’s masterpiece…but this was not her face. No, it couldn’t be! Alia’s heart pounded, her breathing quickening as a wave of realization hit her.

“This…this is the woman who lay in that pool of blood last night,” she thought, horrified, remembering the cold-hearted Marcellus killing his wife. The corpse in the bloodstained room—that face was unmistakably the one in the mirror!

Suddenly, a shocking truth dawned on her: she had somehow come back to life in the body of this castle’s mistress, the woman he had murdered with his own hands.

Marcellus seemed to notice the change in her expression, his eyes showing a hint of confusion and concern. He gently grasped her shoulder, saying softly, “My love, you’ve just woken up, and I know this must be overwhelming. Don’t push yourself.” His lips curved into a gentle smile, his eyes showing genuine care. “You were unconscious for an entire month, and now that the weather’s getting colder, you’ll need more time to recover.”

His gentle words only sent a chill down Alia’s spine. She couldn’t reconcile the tender man before her with the ruthless killer from last night, but the face in the mirror confirmed the reality of her situation.

Her heart clenched as Marcellus’s words replayed in her mind: “The weather’s getting colder.” Colder? She remembered clearly that it had been early summer when she first entered the castle!

Anxiously, Alia scanned the room, her gaze falling on an clock by her bedside. The date on its dial read October—and the year was one full year earlier!

Alia’s mind swirled in confusion. She hadn’t only been resurrected in this woman’s body; she had somehow been sent back in time to the previous year!

Dizzy and overwhelmed, she felt her body give way, collapsing back onto the bed.

“My lady! My love!” The maid rushed forward in a panic, while Marcellus’s face turned serious, his concern evident as he leaned over to hold her up, his eyes filled with anxiety and worry.

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Two days later, Alia stood at a large window, her hands tightly clasped in front of her. Her mind was still reeling. She was struggling to accept it all: she had not only traveled back in time by a year but had also come back to life in the body of “Livia.” Recalling the shock of her initial awakening and her fainting spell, she understood how she had frightened both the maid and Marcellus. The maid had almost burst into tears, and while Marcellus had looked worried, he had immediately called for a doctor to check on her thoroughly.

The doctor concluded that the trauma of a long coma could leave patients weak, sometimes even with gaps or confusion in their memory. Alia seized the opportunity to pretend that her memory was hazy, concealing her bewilderment. She noticed fleeting moments of pain and concern in Marcellus’s expression, but he ultimately accepted the doctor’s explanation and instructed her to rest while he dealt with accumulated matters.

With the maid’s help, Alia began to learn about Livia’s life and those around her.

The maid, whose name was Elise, had grown up with her and had even come with her to the castle upon her marriage. Loyal and attentive, Elise seemed like someone she could trust. Alia discovered from Elise that Marcellus, the master of the castle, was from one of Lancaster’s most influential families, controlling over half of the city’s energy resources—and possibly some hidden ventures as well. She also learned that her “father” was the ruler of Lancaster and that her marriage to Marcellus was a union of power between the two families.

But the biggest mystery remained: why had Marcellus killed his wife, the daughter of Lancaster’s ruler? Unless she uncovered the truth, she would likely meet the same fate again. And there was that rumored artifact, the Holy Grail, which her original mission had been meant to retrieve. Perhaps it was more than just a legend. And above all, she wondered how she had resurrected in this body and why all of this was happening.

As Alia pondered these questions, a headache formed, her mind clouded with confusion. The mysteries before her seemed insurmountable, and the layers of intrigue were almost impossible to untangle. But first, she needed to recover her strength and train this delicate “lady’s” body to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

Just as she was lost in thought, a light knock came at the door. Elise entered with a gentle smile. “My lady, Master Elias is here to see you.”

Elias. Alia’s heart stirred. From Elise’s description, he is Marcellus’s younger brother, though uninvolved in the family’s businesses. Alia felt compelled to meet this young master, but not in her private bedroom.

“Ask him to wait for me in the study. I’ll be there shortly.”

She changed into a more formal dark dress with a modest shawl, lending her an air of poise and elegance. As she walked toward the study, a mix of nerves and curiosity filled her at the thought of meeting him.

Opening the study’s heavy door, her gaze instantly landed on the figure seated on the sofa. Elias’s face was adorned with a faint smile, strikingly different from his brother’s. His features were sharp yet alluring, his eyes gleaming with a hint of mystery. There was an allure about him, magnetic and slightly rebellious, his presence exuding an irresistible, dangerous charm.

Alia steadied herself with a quiet breath, gathering her composure as she approached him, ready to probe this mysterious, captivating younger brother without giving away her own secrets.