Cassiopeia did not move from the mirror for a long time.
Her reflection stared back at her, younger, untouched by betrayal, unaware of the storm that once destroyed her.
Her fingers trembled slightly against the glass.
Three years.
Three years before everything fell apart.
Her breathing slowed… and then,
The memory came.
Not gently.
Not kindly.
It struck like lightning.
She was kneeling on the marble floor of her father's office.
Not because she had to.
But because she was begging.
"Please… don't do this," she had whispered.
Her father's health had already begun to fail at that time. The company was struggling. Investors were circling like vultures.
And he, the man she loved,had stood beside her like a savior.
"I can handle the board," he had said smoothly. "But the shares need to be transferred. Temporarily. It's the safest option."
Temporarily.
The word still made her stomach twist.
Her step-sister had stood near the door that day, watching silently.
Watching.
Waiting.
Cassiopeia remembered how her father had hesitated.
"How do I know I can trust you?" her father had asked weakly.
And she,
She had answered for him.
"I trust him."
She had smiled back then.
So certain.
So in love.
She had convinced her own father.
She had signed the documents herself.
She had handed them everything.
And a month later, her father was removed from his own company.
Six months later, he died.
And one year later…
She died too.
Cassiopeia blinked.
The memory faded.
But the ache remained.
Her chest tightened, yet her face stayed calm.
Soft.
Fragile.
If anyone saw her now, they would see a quiet, gentle heiress waking up in her luxurious room.
They would not see the fire slowly rising inside her.
They would not see the calculations forming behind her eyes.
She stepped away from the mirror.
This time, she would not rush.
This time, she would not expose her anger.
This time...
She would play the role they expected.
Naive.
Trusting.
Sweet.
Her step-sister loved underestimating her.
Good.
Let her continue.
A soft knock sounded at her bedroom door.
"Cassie? Are you awake?" her step-sister's voice floated in.
The same sugary tone.
The same fake concern.
Cassiopeia's lips curved gently.
"Come in."
The door opened.
There she was.
Beautiful.
Polished.
Dangerous.
Her step-sister walked in holding a cup of tea. "You weren't answering your phone. I was worried."
Worried.
Cassiopeia accepted the tea with steady hands.
"Thank you," she said softly.
Their eyes met.
For a split second,
Cassiopeia saw it.
Calculation.
Her step-sister was already working on something.
Already moving pieces.
Already preparing to win.
But this time…
Cassiopeia knew every move in advance.
"I was just thinking about Father's board meeting next week," Cassiopeia said gently, lowering her gaze. "I hope everything goes well."
Her step-sister paused almost imperceptibly.
Ah.
So that was it.
The board meeting.
The beginning of the takeover.
"It will," her step-sister replied smoothly. "You don't need to stress yourself over business matters. Leave those to people who understand them."
There it was.
The first dagger.
Softly delivered.
Cassiopeia smiled.
"I suppose you're right."
Inside...
She was already rewriting the outcome.
The board meeting would not go as planned.
The shares would not be transferred.
And the man she once trusted would soon realize.....
She was no longer the same girl.
Later that afternoon, Cassiopeia stood by her bedroom window, watching the garden below.
In three months, she would meet him.
The billionaire investor who would enter her life like a storm.
In her previous life, she barely noticed him.
He had watched from a distance.
Cold.
Unreadable.
Powerful.
She remembered whispers about him.
Russian.
Ruthless.
Untouchable.
Ivan.
She hadn't understood then why his gaze felt so heavy.
Why he looked at her as if he knew something she didn't.
Why he seemed… almost angry.
This time...
She would notice.
This time...
She would be prepared.
And if he intended to use her like the others did…
He would learn quickly.
Cassiopeia may look gentle.
But she had already died once.
And a woman who has tasted death fears nothing.
Across the ocean, in a private office overlooking frozen landscapes, Ivan stood before a floor-to-ceiling window.
His jaw tightened for no clear reason.
A strange restlessness gripped him.
As if fate had shifted.
As if someone had just stepped back onto the chessboard.
He did not know her name yet.
But soon
He would.
And when they met again…
The world would not survive their collision.