Chapter 6

Eunia

The shrill cry of my alarm clock jolts my eyes open and I shoot up from bed, heart pounding heavily as I try to catch my breath. My lungs wheeze like I’ve been underwater too long, and I slam my palm on the clock until it goes silent. I yank the thing up and shove it into my drawer as if burying it deep enough will bury the panic coursing through me.

I press my hand against my chest, willing my pulse to slow.

Taking a quick look at my surroundings, I realize I’m on my bed… in my bedroom.

Not the small room in the safe house. Not the damp air that smelled of mold, rot, and blood. No bars, no suffocating silence.

My room.

My parents’ house.

I blink and swallow hard, disbelief clawing at my throat.

What am I doing here?

Didn’t I just die?!

My mind flashes—too vividly, too cruelly—back to that moment. I was on the bed in the safe house, my body torn apart after giving birth. My life draining from me in hot rivers of blood that wouldn’t stop. My chest heaved; every breath had felt like knives. Logan’s cold voice still echoes in my ears: Let her bleed out.

I remember praying in those last moments. For my children. For the babies I never got to hold. For their little souls, stolen before I could even whisper their names.

So why the hell am I here?

Has it all been a dream?

No. No, it couldn’t have been. My heart insists it was real. The memories are carved too deep in me. Too vivid. Too brutal. I can still feel the phantom contractions rippling through my abdomen, the tearing pain, the wetness of blood pooling beneath me. I flinch and clench my legs together, trying to soothe myself.

There’s no way that could have all been a dream.

My precious children. All six of them. My throat burns with grief. I never even got to hold them. To kiss their soft cheeks. To whisper that I loved them—

“Eunia!”

My mother’s sharp voice slices through my thoughts like a whip. I jolt so violently I almost fall out of bed.

Before I can gather myself, my bedroom door swings open and Aubrey Rosette strides in. She’s impeccable as always: hair smooth, pearls at her throat, that faint perfume of roses and steel. Her gaze lands on me like I’m a stain she wants scrubbed out of the carpet.

“You’re still in bed? What is the time right now?”

I follow her glare to the clock on the wall. My lips tremble as I answer quietly, “10 AM.”

She folds her arms, her voice dripping with exasperation. “And you chose today of all days to sleep in? What’s wrong with you? And why’s your face wet? Are you crying? We really can’t afford one of your tantrums today.”

I touch my cheek with trembling fingers and feel the wetness. Tears. Somehow, I’ve been crying without even realizing. I quickly wipe them away with the heel of my palm and clear my throat.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” I whisper. My voice cracks. “But… what’s going on?”

She groans, a sound that vibrates with disdain. “Sometimes I wonder if we actually share blood. You’re nothing like me. Weren’t you the one who was so excited about Logan’s return yesterday?”

Her words splash on me like a bucket of ice water.

Logan’s… return?

I stare at her, my mouth dry, my palms going clammy.

“Logan’s plane just landed in the airport,” she continues briskly, adjusting her pearl earring, “and he’ll need someone to pick him up. You volunteered to go because it would be better for him to see a familiar face. Do you remember now, or did you bump your head and get amnesia?”

Everything inside me begins to spin. My head, my chest, my stomach.

I know this day. I have lived this exact day before.

It was the day Logan returned from Switzerland. Seven years ago. The day my doom began.

I swallow hard. “Mom, what… what day is it?”

Her perfectly lined brows knit together. “Why are you suddenly asking me that?”

“Just tell me today’s date.” My voice cracks.

She sighs dramatically. “Today is Friday, 19th of June, 2018.”

The room tilts. My body goes cold.

That confirmed it.

I’m not crazy. I’m not dreaming.

I have gone back in time. Seven years before my death. To the exact moment when Logan was about to re-enter my life.

Which meant—there’s still time.

I haven’t met him yet. Haven’t been trapped. Haven’t been broken.

God… heard me. In those last moments, when my blood was leaving me and my spirit clawed for release, He heard my desperate wish. He gave me a second chance.

And I sure as hell am not about to waste it.

“Earth to Eunia,” my mother snaps, waving a hand in front of my face. “Are you sure you’re feeling alright? If you’re not well, I can just—”

“Send Kruska to pick him up,” I cut her off. My voice is steady this time, cold. “I have somewhere else to be. And yes, I’m fine.”

She stares at me for a long, suspicious moment. Then, with a little huff, she turns toward the door.

“Do whatever you want. Just ensure to be back early for Logan’s welcome party. I can’t let you embarrass this family anymore.”

The door closes behind her.

I breathe out a shaky laugh, almost a sob. “You won’t have to worry about that anymore, Mom,” I whisper into the empty room. “I plan to go far away from your lives… and never return.”

Granted this second chance, I know exactly what I have to do.

Kruska already stole my parents long ago. Logan? He’s not worth a single fight. Not after what I’ve seen. Not after everything he did.

The only thing I cannot—will not—let Kruska take this time is my life.

And I will fight tooth and nail to save myself.

I will not let history repeat itself.

I shower, dress quickly, eat a piece of toast that tastes like sawdust in my mouth. Then I leave for the bank.

At 21, the trust fund my parents set up is legally mine. That money is my freedom. Canada. Yes. That’s where I’ll go. I don’t even know what I’ll do once I get there—maybe open a shop, maybe invest in real estate. I don’t care. Anything, anywhere, so long as it’s far from Logan and Kruska’s orbit.

Between filling out paperwork at the bank, buying my plane ticket, and even texting a few college friends who grew up in Canada to ask for advice, the day passes like sand slipping through my fingers.

When I glance at my phone again, it’s nearly 4 PM.

The welcome party.

My stomach twists.

As much as I dread it, I can’t skip. Not yet. My parents still hold enough power to freeze my account, to trap me here. I need to play my part one last time.

So I return home.

I dress in a black gown. No makeup or jewelry. My silent mourning clothes. Tonight isn’t a celebration, it’s the funeral of my old life. Tonight, I’ll announce my departure. My flight leaves in the morning.

This is it.

The grand living room is already alive with chatter when I descend the stairs. Crystal chandeliers throw golden light on polished marble. The place is filled with dignitaries, businessmen, wealthy families with their smug children. Champagne glasses clink as laughter fills the air.

My eyes scan the room. My parents are locked in animated conversation with business partners. Kruska is at the pastry table with Logan, giggling at something he said.

My stomach churns. I bite back a scowl.

Please, let the toast be soon. Let me speak and then vanish.

I reach for a glass of wine from a passing server’s tray when someone taps my shoulder.

I turn and see Logan up close.

My breath freezes in my chest.

Those sapphire eyes. Eyes that once burned with hatred as he beat me. That handsome face with a chiseled jawline that haunted my nightmares. Those large hands—the same hands that had struck me, choked me, pinned me down as he fucked me ruthlessly.

Memories flood, so vivid I stagger back, nearly dropping my glass.

He catches it before it hits the ground, smirking.

“Are you that surprised to see me?” His voice is smooth, teasing. “It’s only been 11 years, Eunia, yet you’re acting like you just saw a ghost.”

A ghost.

He has no idea.

It takes everything in me not to tremble in his presence. Every muscle in me screams to run. I force my lungs to work, inhaling sharply, exhaling slowly. 

It’s the past. It’s the past. He can’t hurt me anymore.

“I’m fine,” I say coldly, forcing the words through stiff lips. “I’m just a little under the weather. Please excuse me.”

I turn and walk away before he can reply.

Behind me, he calls my name, but I don’t stop. I push through the crowd, rush into the bathroom, and lock the door.

My chest heaves. I splash cold water on my face, gripping the sink until my knuckles ache. It takes minutes of deep breathing before my heartbeat slows.

He still has the same face. The same aura. And I am still so terrified of him.

When I finally calm down, I return to the party. My timing is perfect—just in time for the toast.

My father raises his glass. “To Logan’s return!”

Everyone cheers, lifting their glasses. Everyone except me.

I ready myself to approach my father for the microphone, to make my announcement, to claim my freedom. But before I can move, his next words freeze me in place.

“I have a surprise announcement to make. Everyone, please do I have your attention? It is with great pride and joy that I announce the engagement of my beloved daughter, Eunia Rosette, to Logan Graham, the son of the Grahams, our longtime friends and business partners!”

The room erupts in applause, but my entire world comes crashing down.