The next morning began with rain.
It poured softly against the windows of the Voss estate, silver streaks tracing down glass panes. Elara sat at her desk, a cup of tea untouched beside her, her laptop glowing with coded lines and charts.
The markets of Elarion opened in less than an hour.
Every click, every number she entered was a weapon sharpened by memory. She remembered which companies would rise, which would fall, which "rumors" would crash entire stocks. The knowledge of ten years was her greatest advantage — but only if she used it carefully.
She typed the final command and smiled faintly.
Trade order placed: NovaTech Systems — 2,000 shares at 14.22 each.
In two years, NovaTech's value would skyrocket after inventing an AI neural framework that changed global data systems.
Right now, no one believed in them. But Elara did. Because she'd seen it.
_______
"Miss Elara," Lena called from the hall. "You'll be late for the academy."
Elara blinked, dragged back to the present.
Right — she was still sixteen. Still a student, technically.
"I'll be there in a moment," she said, closing her laptop and hiding the trading accounts under a false name: Crimson Holdings.
Her alias. The seed of her future empire.
She smiled at the sound of it — Crimson. A color of vengeance and power.
________
St. Clarion Academy was a fortress for the elite — marble walls, glass towers, and students who measured worth in family names.
Once, Elara had been one of them — pampered, arrogant, oblivious. This time, she watched from the sidelines, learning, calculating.
As she walked down the hall, whispers followed.
"Isn't that the Voss girl?"
"She's the one whose family's merging with ValeCorp, right?"
"She looks so— different lately."
Elara ignored them. Let them whisper. Attention was useful only when she wanted it.
At her locker, a familiar voice chirped, "Elara! You're glowing today."
It was Lyra, her stepsister, all honeyed sweetness and veiled spite. Her hair shimmered in perfect curls, her uniform immaculate.
She looped her arm through Elara's like they were the best of sisters. "You'll come to my party this weekend, won't you? Everyone's talking about it."
Elara smiled gently. "Of course, Lyra. Wouldn't miss it."
Inside, she was already planning how to use that party — the same one that, in her past life, had ended in public humiliation — to rewrite the narrative.
This time, Lyra's cruelty would backfire.
________
After classes, Elara slipped into the computer lab, where Finn Calder waited. He looked half asleep, his hair even messier than before, surrounded by empty coffee cups.
"I cracked the firewall code," he muttered, typing furiously. "You were right — they didn't even patch the vulnerability."
Elara leaned over his shoulder. "Perfect. Encrypt the backdoor and leave a silent trace. If anyone ever tries to find it, we'll know."
He glanced up, impressed. "You sound like you've done this before."
Her lips curved. "In a sense."
He frowned. "You really are planning something big, aren't you?"
"I'm building something," she said softly. "Something that will outlast them all."
He raised a brow. "Who's 'them'?"
Elara's expression hardened for a heartbeat — ghosts flickering behind her eyes.
"People who think power comes from bloodlines," she said. "I'll show them it comes from brilliance."
He grinned. "That's poetic. And terrifying."
"Good," she said. "It should be."
_________
That evening, as Elara returned home, she found her father in his study — reviewing merger papers from ValeCorp.
Her heart clenched at the sight.
This merger, in her past life, was the beginning of their ruin.
"Father," she said gently, stepping forward, "are you sure about this partnership?"
Adrian Voss looked up, surprised. "Why do you ask?"
"I heard ValeCorp's subsidiary divisions are under federal review," she lied smoothly — a lie built on truth from her past life. "It could affect our stocks."
He frowned. "Who told you that?"
"I overheard it at the academy," she said, pretending innocence. "You know how rumors spread."
Her father sighed, rubbing his temple. "You worry too much, Elara."
"I just want to protect our family," she said quietly.
Something softened in his eyes. "You sound like your mother."
Her throat tightened. Her mother had died when she was ten.
In her last life, Elara had never once used that memory to protect him. But now she would.
_________
That night, Elara sat by her window, journal open. The rain had stopped, and the moon hung low, a pale coin in the sky.
Operation Rebirth – Phase One (Update):
• NovaTech investment complete.
• Firewall backdoor secured (thanks to Finn).
• Begin intelligence gathering on ValeCorp internal shifts.
• Prevent Voss-Vale merger if possible — delay at least one year.
She added another line, a quiet confession between the ink strokes.
• Damien Vale… unpredictable variable. Proceed with caution.
__________
Two Weeks Later
Elara's investment strategy began to pay off. Quietly.
Her modest $10,000 stake, made through shell accounts, had doubled overnight after a small tech leak sent NovaTech's value soaring. It wasn't fortune yet, but it was proof.
Proof she could change fate.
She walked through the bustling business district in a simple coat, her hair pinned up, sunglasses hiding her face. No one recognized the young heiress among the morning crowd.
In her hand was a folder labeled Crimson Holdings – Phase Two: Expansion.
She stopped at a small building on 7th Avenue — Harland Investments, a boutique firm run by a man she knew would one day become a financial titan.
Right now, he was struggling.
Perfect.
Inside, the man — Mr. Harland, balding, mid-30s — looked up in surprise as she approached.
"Young lady, we don't usually take appointments from—"
"I'm here to fund your future," Elara interrupted smoothly, setting down the folder. "And make you very rich."
He blinked. "Excuse me?"
"Within two years, you'll manage billions," she said. "But you'll need backing now — and someone to guide your investments. Partner with me. You'll get 30% of the profits."
He frowned skeptically. "And who are you?"
"Elara Voss," she said simply. "But that name doesn't matter. What matters is what I know."
She handed him a sheet of predictions — market events that hadn't happened yet.
He laughed, then froze as he read.
"How could you possibly—?"
"Decide quickly," she said, turning to leave. "Opportunities don't wait."
___________
That night, while she worked late in her room, a message pinged on her computer.
An unknown address. Encrypted.
Message: Who taught you to hide your trades under shell aliases, Miss Voss?
Elara froze. Only one person could have traced that deep.
Response: And who are you to ask?
The reply came instantly.
Damien Vale.
Her pulse spiked.
How—? She'd been so careful.
Damien: You've been buying NovaTech shares. Under three false identities.
Elara: Illegal to spy on minors, isn't it?
Damien: Illegal to manipulate the market, too.
Elara: I don't manipulate. I predict.
Damien: Same result. You're playing a dangerous game, Miss Voss.
Elara: Only if I lose.
Damien: And if I decide you're a threat?
Elara: Then I'd suggest you don't underestimate me.
A long pause.
Then his final message arrived.
Damien: You remind me of someone I once knew. She didn't survive long. Don't follow her path.
Elara stared at the words, her heart pounding.
If only he knew she was that someone.
She closed her laptop, her reflection pale in the screen.
Damien Vale had noticed her already. That was both thrilling… and terrifying.
She whispered to the empty room,
"Too late, Damien. This time, I'll survive. And you'll remember me."