LOGINCHAPTER 3:
"I do."
Two words. The entire Lane Group boardroom went dead silent.
Alexander Knight's hand was large and warm around mine. Too warm. Possessive. Like he was afraid I would disappear if he let go.
Ethan Miller's bouquet of roses fell to the floor.
"Sophia! What kind of joke is this?!" Ethan shouted, his handsome face twisting. "You are MY fiancée! You can't just—"
"Your fiancée?" I pulled my hand out of Alexander's grip just enough to turn around. I smiled sweetly at Ethan, the same sweet smile I used in my last life right before he killed me. "Ethan, did you forget? I broke up with you five minutes ago. In front of all the directors."
"You—" Ethan looked at my father for help. "Uncle Lane! Say something!"
My father slammed the table. "Sophia Lane! Do you know what you are doing?! Mr. Knight is not someone you can play with! This marriage alliance—"
"It's not an alliance," Alexander finally spoke. His voice was cold, low, and every director shivered. He didn't even look at my father. He was looking only at me. "It's a marriage. My wife said marry me. So I will marry her."
He took off his black suit jacket and put it over my shoulders. His scent surrounded me — cold pine and money.
Chloe stepped forward, her white dress shaking. She tried to look pitiful. "Sister, I know you are sad about Grandpa, but Mr. Knight... Mr. Knight already has a fiancée. Miss Lisa from the Starlight Group said she is his—"
"Who is Miss Lisa?" I asked, looking up at Alexander.
Alexander's jaw tightened. A flash of panic in those cold eyes that only I could see.
"No one."
"Oh." I stood on tiptoe, right in front of everyone, and straightened his tie. My lips were close to his ear. Only he could hear me whisper: "Then you better remember, Mr. Knight. From now on, you only have one fiancée. Me."
His eyes turned dark. Possessive. Obsessed.
He grabbed my waist suddenly and pulled me against his chest.
"Good," he whispered back, his voice hoarse. "Don't forget your own words, Sophia. You proposed. You can't run again."
The directors watched us like we were crazy.
My father was shaking with anger. "Security! Security!"
"No need," Alexander said. He picked up his phone and dialed one number. "Bring the contract."
In less than a minute, ten lawyers in black suits from Knight Empire rushed into Lane Group, holding a marriage agreement.
It wasn't a normal contract. It was a transfer of power.
*CLAUSE 1: Alexander Knight transfers 2 billion dollars to Sophia Lane for Project Starlight, unconditionally.*
*CLAUSE 2: Knight Empire will become Lane Group's only partner.*
*CLAUSE 3: All properties under Alexander Knight's name will be shared with Sophia Lane after marriage.*
The board directors' eyes turned red when they saw the numbers.
Chloe's face was paper white. This was supposed to be hers. Ethan's investment was only 50 million. Alexander brought 2 billion.
Ethan lunged forward. "Sophia! You can't trust him! He is playing you! He—"
Alexander stepped in front of me. Just one step.
Ethan stopped instantly. Everyone in New York knew what happened to people who challenged Alexander Knight.
I walked around Alexander and picked up the roses Ethan dropped. Then I threw them in the trash in front of him.
"Mr. Miller," I said coldly, "From today on, call me Mrs. Knight."
And for the first time since my rebirth, I walked out of Lane Group with my head high, wearing the jacket of the richest man in New York.
Behind me, I heard Chloe scream as she tore up her fake proposal for Project Starlight.
This was only the beginning of my revenge.
Stella was 5 years and 3 months old when she started real school. Not Lane-Knight Academy — real school, with uniforms that were not Starlight, with teachers who did not know she was Chief Star Officer.We bought her a backpack that was bigger than her. She insisted on packing it herself: one sewing kit, one star sticker sheet, one business card that said STELLA KNIGHT — CHIEF STAR OFFICER, and one photo of Baby Jian in his drawer-crib."For when I miss him," she said seriously.Hope, 4, did not start school yet. She stayed at the Academy with Chloe and Mom, drawing stars. But she cried when Stella left."Who will stamp APPROVED now?" Hope asked, holding Stella's hand at the gate."I will stamp from school. I will come back at 3 PM and stamp," Stella promised, like a CEO promising a client.Alexander drove her. He wanted to walk her in, but Stella said, "Daddy, CEOs walk themselves in."So he parked outside, in grey sweater — because Stella demanded grey sweater for first day — and wa
Three days after Baby Jian was born in sewing room, I got an email that made me forget I was supposed to be on bed rest.Subject: *Dior — $200M Collaboration — URGENT — Reply in 24 hours*From: Paris. Dior CEO. Not assistant. CEO himself.He wrote:> Sophia,> We saw Stella's fall video, Chloe's redemption arc, and Baby Jian's birth in sewing room. Our team loves your story. We want Starlight to co-design Dior x Starlight — 100 looks, real tailors, not factories. $200M order. Must start tomorrow. Can you do it with newborn?> — Bernard$200M. Same number as my whole company worth. Double my company in one order.And I had a 3-day-old baby in a fabric drawer, swollen feet, no sleep, and a 5-year-old CEO daughter who fired suppliers.I called Alexander. He was doing dishes with baby Jian in sling, as usual."Mr. Knight, Dior wants $200M. Tomorrow."He dropped plate. Plate broke. Second plate broke this week because of my news. First was $1B deal hung up, now plate."Tomorrow? With Jian
I thought Stella was a tyrant at 6 months old. At 5 years old, she was a CEO tyrant. And I was 8 months pregnant with a boy who kicked like he wanted to sew his way out of my belly.It was Monday, 2 PM, Lane-Knight Academy, third floor sewing room. I was supposed to be on bed rest. Doctor said bed rest because my feet were swollen like bread. Alexander said bed rest because he read on Google that 8-month pregnant CEOs should not sit at sewing machines for 8 hours. Mom said bed rest because she said Lane women always have fast birth and I should stay near sewing machines, not office.But I had a $200M company. $200M does not do bed rest. So I was in sewing room, sitting on floor, surrounded by fabric rolls, trying to fix the gold star patch Stella sewed on Alexander's butt-tux. The tux that ripped when he fell on runway 5 years ago. He still wears it every year for vow renewal. He says it's couture now. I say it's excuse to not buy new tux.Stella and Hope were with me. Stella, 5 years
Five years later.Lane Garden was different now.No longer just garden. Now it was Lane-Knight Academy — first floor is free fashion school for girls who can't afford design school, second floor is Stella and Hope's playroom, third floor is still sewing machines that go click-clack day and night.The garden still had red thread curtain, but now faded to pink by sun. We never replaced it. Because some things should fade and still stay.Today was not a fashion show. Today was vow renewal. Second vow renewal — we did one every year as promised in Clause 4.1, but this year was special. Fifth year. And second baby.I was 33 years old. CEO Lane-Knight, $200M brand now, 120 employees, TIME cover twice. But today, I was just Sophia, 7 months pregnant again, in same red qipao from first wedding, but let out 3 inches at belly. Stella herself sewed the extra fabric — crooked stitch, but I wore it proudly.Stella was 5 years old now, not baby tyrant anymore, but mini-CEO tyrant. She had her own t
One week after Stella's viral fall, I was in sewing room at 7 AM, alone, trying to fix Alexander's tux that ripped when he fell. The rip was small but it was right on butt — poetic.Door knocked. Not Maya's knock. Maya knocks like CEO — three fast. This knock was slow, scared."Come in."Door opened and Chloe stood there.She looked different. No Instagram makeup. Hair in ponytail, no extensions. She wore a plain white T-shirt, jeans that were not designer, and old sneakers. She held a small bag and a paper.And her belly. Her belly was big. 6 months pregnant, maybe 7.For a second, I thought I was seeing things. Last time I saw Chloe was at the copycat show, crying, wearing fake velvet."Can... can I come in?" she said, voice hoarse.I didn't say yes. I didn't say no. I just looked at her belly."How many months?" I asked."Seven," she whispered, hand automatically going to belly. "Seven months.""Whose?""Ethan's."The sewing room went silent. Only the clock ticking.Ethan. Of cours
Stella was 6 months old and already a tyrant.She had three nannies quit in one month because she only wanted to be held by two people: me, and Alexander — but only when Alexander was wearing his soft grey sweater, not his suit. If he wore suit, she screamed like we were torturing her."She has taste," Alexander said proudly, throwing his $5,000 Tom Ford jacket on the floor and putting on the $40 grey sweater from Uniqlo that Stella liked. "She knows quality.""She knows you look less scary without suit," I said, trying to work on Spring collection while Stella tried to eat my charcoal pencil.Mom said, "Sophia, you need to take Stella out. She stays in office too much. She needs to see other babies."So I had an idea. A terrible, brilliant, GoodNovel-reader-will-love-it idea.Starlight Baby First Fashion Show.Not for adults. For babies. 20 babies from our staff, all wearing mini Starlight outfits sewn by me at 2 AM while breastfeeding. And the finale would be Stella — 6 months, 18 p







