Chapter 2

Catherine stroked the locket, a subtle smile playing on her lips.

For a moment, I recalled our first meeting in my past life. Her fingers had traced the locket with the same gentle touch.

[Yes! Catherine recognizes the locket.]

[The impostor's tricks won't work now.]

[Catherine, take your fiancé to his parents. You're meant to be together.]

The messages sparked a fragile hope in my heart, but reality shattered it swiftly. Her hand lashed out, her slap stinging my cheek. "You shameless thief, stealing the Grady family's treasures? If I didn't catch you, would you have used it to deceive us?"

She turned to Erik, her voice softening as she handed him the locket. "Be careful with your belongings, Erik. Don't let filth like him touch them."

Her sudden shift from venom to warmth was like ice water dousing me from head to toe.

The messages exploded in outrage.

[Catherine, what are you saying? That locket belongs to Lawrence!]

[You can't even recognize your true fiancé? Donate your eyes!]

I fought back my tears, but my vision still blurred.

The messages cursed Catherine's blindness, vowing she'd regret her choice. But I knew better. She wasn't blind at all. Her clarity fueled her betrayal.

In my past life, when the Gradys came to the orphanage, I stood among the hopeful children, each yearning to be chosen.

The director pushed Erik forward, and I watched with envy as my parents caressed his hair with affection and Catherine shyly took his hand.

Prompted by the messages, I gathered my courage, revealed my locket, and exposed the director's scheme to pass Erik off as me.

When the truth came to light, my parents enveloped me in a tearful embrace, their eyes tracing my scars with anguish.

They glared at the director and Erik, then turned to me with warm smiles. "Sweetheart, you're safe now. No one will hurt you again."

At home, their love felt boundless, as though they'd give me the whole world. Their warmth felt so close, like I could reach out and touch it.

Flavia would blow gently on my soup to cool it before feeding me. Ambrose, who was usually stern, would frame my childish drawings and display them proudly in his study.

Catherine's care was woven into every detail. When nightmares plagued me, she'd spend sleepless nights crafting a soothing sachet. When I fell ill with a fever, she would stay by my hospital bed for days, dozing off with a damp cloth still clutched in her hand.

At eighteen, I inherited the family empire. At the bash, Catherine placed an ancestral pendant around my neck. "Even without our arranged betrothal and even if you weren't a Grady, I'd choose you and only you."

But those cherished memories eventually crumbled into dust.