Chapter 2

                                    The Girl Who Knew Too Much

I stared at my reflection in the vanity mirror, and a stranger stared back.

Soft cheeks. Clear skin. Hair that shone like spun gold instead of brittle straw. This body remembered nothing of starvation, of fists, of three years spent as Richard Ashford's captive wife.

But I remembered everything.

"Aria, darling, are you ready?" My father's voice drifted through the door. "The Ashfords will be here in twenty minutes."

The Ashfords. Richard and his snake of a mother, Victoria. They were coming to finalize the engagement terms—the merger that would save my father's failing pharmaceutical company and give Richard the patents he needed to dominate the market.

In my first life, I had walked into that meeting like a lamb to slaughter.

Not this time.

I smoothed down the pink dress my mother had picked out—soft, demure, forgettable. The kind of dress that screamed 'malleable trophy wife.' I ripped it off and reached for the back of my closet, pulling out a black sheath dress I had bought on impulse and never worn.

Too bold, my mother had said. Too attention-seeking.

Perfect.

The dress hugged curves that malnutrition had not yet stolen, made my pale skin look porcelain instead of sickly. I painted my lips blood red and met my own eyes in the mirror.

"Let us see how he likes a woman with teeth," I whispered.

Richard Ashford stood in my father's study like he owned it.

Maybe he already did, in his mind. His charcoal suit probably cost more than my father's monthly mortgage payment. He held a glass of scotch, swirling it lazily while his mother spoke in low tones with my parents.

Then he saw me.

Those steel-gray eyes locked onto mine, and something flickered across his face—surprise? Interest? It vanished so quickly I almost thought I imagined it.

"Aria." My mother's smile looked strained. "There you are. Come say hello to Richard and Mrs. Ashford."

I glided into the room, and I felt his gaze track every movement. Good. Let him look. Let him want. Let him think he was getting something precious.

So I could take it away.

"Mr. Ashford." I extended my hand, kept my voice cool and professional. "How nice to see you again."

His hand engulfed mine, warm and possessive. He did not shake it—he held it, his thumb brushing against my pulse point. Testing. Claiming.

"Miss Chen." His voice was smooth whiskey and dark promises. "You look different."

"Do I?" I extracted my hand, and saw his jaw tighten at the dismissal. "Perhaps you simply were not paying attention before."

Victoria Ashford's eyes narrowed. My mother gasped. My father looked like he might have a stroke.

But Richard? Richard smiled.

It was not a kind smile.

"Spirited tonight, are we?" He set down his scotch, moved closer. Too close. Deliberately invading my space the way he would invade my life, my body, my soul. "I wonder what changed."

Everything. Nothing. I died and came back with the knowledge of exactly who you are.

"Confidence," I said instead. "I decided I should have some before marrying a stranger."

"We are hardly strangers, Aria. Our families have known each other for years."

"Knowing someone is not the same as knowing them." I tilted my head, studied him like he was a specimen under glass. "Tell me, Mr. Ashford, why do you want to marry me?"

The room went silent.

"Aria!" My father's voice cracked like a whip. "Apologize. Now."

But Richard raised a hand, eyes never leaving mine. "No. It is a fair question." He stepped even closer, until I could smell his cologne—cedar and something darker. "I want to marry you, Aria Chen, because you are exactly what I need. Beautiful. Connected. And malleable enough to mold into the perfect wife."

There it was. The truth is he hid behind charm and expensive gifts in my first life. The truth that took me three years of marriage to fully understand.

I was not a person to him. I was a tool.

"Malleable," I repeated, tasting the word. "Like clay. Or a dog."

His smile sharpened. "Like a partner who understands her role."

"And what role is that?"

"To stand beside me. To enhance my image. To give me heirs and not ask questions." His hand came up, cupped my cheek with false tenderness. To anyone watching, it looked affectionate. But I felt the warning in his grip. "Can you do that, Aria?"

In my first life, I had whispered yes. Had melted into his touch like the naive girl I was.

Now, I looked him dead in the eye and said, "No."

The room exploded.

My mother started crying. My father started yelling. Victoria Ashford stood, her face twisted with fury.

But Richard? Richard went perfectly, dangerously still.

"What did you say?" His voice was soft. Lethal.

"I said no." I stepped back, broke his hold on my face. "I will not marry you, Richard Ashford. Find another fool."

His hand shot out, caught my wrist in a grip that would leave bruises. The mask cracked, and I saw the monster underneath.

"You do not get to say no," he hissed. "Your father owes my family everything. This marriage is happening whether you want it or not."

I smiled. "Then I suppose we will see how much I can make you regret it."

I yanked my hand free and walked out of the study, leaving chaos in my wake.

Behind me, I heard Richard's voice, cold and absolute: "She will come around. They always do."

Not this time, monster.

This time, you will beg.