Bridgette rested her hands on the cold leather of her automobile seat, tracing the exquisite stitching. The magnificent black Rolls-Royce Phantom hummed softly as it drove her home. She had skipped school, pretending to be sick, but was actually lost in thought. As she looked out the dark window, the world beyond appeared curiously unfamiliar. The metropolitan landscape had not yet experienced any significant changes, including upgrades to individual structures, commercial venues, and promotional signage. She had travelled back in time, but this was not the past she knew.
Her estate loomed before her, a majestic white mansion encircled by vast grounds and intimidating iron gates. As her car arrived, the crew rushed to greet her. She could sense their anxiety from the way they averted their gaze and held their bodies tight. They felt intimidated by her. Who could blame them? They recalled Bridget as a tyrannical princess.
She walked out with an air of calm that caught her off guard. "Please prepare a warm bath for me," she replied, her voice steady but unusual in her own ears. The maids exchanged puzzled stares but promptly got to work.
"Miss, are you feeling alright?" Elena asked hesitantly, watching Bridgette with curious eyes as she helped her out of her uniform and into a silk robe.
Bridgette met Elena's gaze in the mirror, noticing the concern in her eyes. She had never looked at her like that before. "I just need time to think," she murmured. "Leave me alone for a while."
Elena hesitated before nodding, bowing slightly before leaving the room. As the door clicked shut, Bridgette let out a shaky breath and sank into the warm bath. Her reflection rippled in the water, her golden hair cascading over her shoulders.
She had been given a second chance. But what was she supposed to do with it?
She had been obsessed with Collin. Blinded by love. Consumed by jealousy. She had let herself become a monster in the pursuit of something that was never hers to begin with. And it had cost her everything.
But not this time.
Bridgette clenched her fists beneath the water. She wouldn't make the same mistakes. She would not let her fate repeat itself. If she was going to change her future, she had to start now.
After finishing her bath, she dressed in an elegant yet modest outfit and sat at her vanity, staring at her reflection. "Think, Bridgette. What must change?" she whispered to herself.
She took out a notebook and began to write:
1. Avoid conflict with Anabella.
2. Keep a distance from Collin.
3. Protect Father's business and fortune.
4. Gain independence—secure my own future.
5. Stay away from trouble... and Lucien.
Lucien.
Her hand hesitated over his name. He had never been part of her plans before, yet he had already become entangled in her second chance. His presence was overwhelming, unreadable. The rumors called him the Dark Prince, and she had always dismissed him as an outcast. But seeing him up close... he was dangerous in a way she couldn't define.
Before she could dwell on it further, the sound of an approaching car drew her from her thoughts. A familiar voice echoed through the halls—deep, warm, and filled with authority.
Her father was home.
Bridgette barely had time to gather herself before she rushed out of her room, her heart pounding in her chest. As she descended the grand staircase, her father stood at the bottom, removing his coat with a tired expression.
"Papa!" she called, her voice trembling.
He looked up, startled, before his features softened. "Bridgette? What's wrong, my dear?"
She didn't answer. She simply ran to him and wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly as if he might disappear. The warmth of his presence, the steady beat of his heart, it was real. He was real.
Tears burned at the corners of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Instead, she whispered, "I missed you."
Her father chuckled, stroking her hair. "Silly girl, I saw you this morning. But if it makes you happy, I'll come home early more often."
Bridgette pulled back, smiling. "I'd like that."
As her father walked past her, giving orders to the staff, Bridgette stood there, clutching her hands together.
She had lost him once. She wouldn't let it happen again.
This time, she would rewrite her fate.
Meanwhile, across town, Lucien Deveraux leaned against his usual spot on the rooftop of the school, a lollypop dangling lazily between his fingers. The cool breeze tousled his midnight-black hair, his silver-blue eyes narrowing as he recalled the strange encounter from earlier.
His hand. He looked at it, flexing his fingers as if trying to understand the lingering warmth of her waist. Bridgette La Raue had always been a distant name to him—just another spoiled, insufferable socialite who thrived on status and power. But today... she had been different. Her trembling form in his arms, the tear-streaked face that held something raw, something real.
He exhaled, watching the sky before glancing down at the school grounds. When he saw Bridgette walking towards a sleek black car, her movements slow, almost hesitant.
He had seen the way she looked at Collin, the way she had always chased after him like a moth to a flame. But today, she had pulled away. Today, she had been different.
He scoffed to himself, shaking his head. It didn't matter. He had no interest in playing hero to a broken girl. Yet his fingers twitched at the memory of her warmth.
With a sigh, he turned his gaze back to the sky, dismissing the thought altogether.