Aria Blackwood woke with a gasp, the acrid stench of smoke still burning in her nostrils, the taste of ash on her tongue. Her lungs burned, a phantom pain from the explosion that had vaporized her, her family, and the towering glass edifice that had been their legacy. Yet, here she was. Not in the cold embrace of oblivion, but in the familiar, suffocating silk sheets of her own king-sized bed in the Blackwood family mansion.
Sunlight, a traitorous golden shaft, sliced through the heavy velvet curtains, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. Sunlight. Not the hellish orange glow of a city consumed by fire. She sat bolt upright, heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. The room was exactly as she remembered it from… from ten years ago. Her laptop, a clunky, outdated model by her recent standards, sat on her nightstand. Her clothes, a power suit she hadn't worn in a decade, hung neatly in the closet. Her phone, a relic of a bygone era, vibrated with an alarm she hadn't set in a lifetime.
It was April 12th. Julian's eighteenth birthday. The day she had ruined his life.
Aria stumbled out of bed, her legs trembling. The memories hit her in a deluge – flashes of Leo's condescending smirk, Julian's crushed face as he was disinherited, the endless parade of fabricated evidence, the coldness in her own voice as she'd cut him out of their lives. She remembered the gnawing regret that had festered in her soul for years, growing into a gaping wound when she finally learned the truth about Leo, a truth that had come too late, far, far too late.
She rushed to the full-length mirror, half-expecting to see the weary, lines of the CEO who had lost everything. Instead, a younger face stared back, unmarred by the stress of a collapsing empire. Her dark hair was thicker, her eyes, though currently wide with terror, lacked the permanent shadows of sleepless nights. She was thirty years old again, at the peak of her early career, radiating the formidable confidence that had once made her a titan in the business world. And then, she remembered how she had wielded that confidence against her own brother.
A knock at the door. "Aria? Are you awake? Breakfast is in fifteen minutes, dear. Julian's birthday, remember?" It was Mrs. Gable, the housekeeper, her voice a soothing balm that almost made Aria forget the nightmare. Almost.
Julian. She had to see him. She had to confirm. With trembling fingers, she fumbled with the antique phone, dialling her sister Beatrix's direct line. It rang twice before a groggy voice answered.
"Aria? It's six-thirty in the morning. Is the market crashing or is the world ending?" Beatrix, the always-composed lawyer, sounded unusually agitated.
"The world ended, Bea," Aria whispered, her voice cracking. "And I think… I think we're back."
A pause, heavy and pregnant with unspoken horror. Then, Beatrix's voice, sharp and clear now. "You mean… the explosion? Leo? Julian?"
"All of it," Aria confirmed. "It's April 12th. Julian's eighteenth."
A guttural sob escaped Beatrix, a sound Aria had never heard from her unflappable sister. "Oh god, Aria. He's going to hate us. He's going to… Julian."
"We'll fix it," Aria said, the old CEO's determination seeping back into her voice, fighting through the emotional turmoil. "We will fix everything. Call the others. Meet me in the dining room. Do not, under any circumstances, let Leo out of your sight. And for the love of everything, act normal."
Normal. That was a laugh. Her body moved on autopilot, showering, dressing in the familiar power suit, her mind racing. She had approximately fifteen minutes to mentally re-calibrate a decade of trauma, regret, and future knowledge into a semblance of her thirty-year-old self.
The dining room, usually a scene of quiet, almost ritualistic formality, was a maelstrom of barely suppressed chaos. Her parents, Robert and Elizabeth, sat at the head of the long mahogany table, looking exactly as they had ten years ago – elegant, slightly detached, but radiating the quiet authority of old money. Her Grandmother Eleanor, a formidable matriarch with eyes that missed nothing, sat to their right, already sipping her customary Earl Grey.
But it was her sisters that were truly unsettling. Beatrix, usually so poised, kept clenching and unclenching her jaw, her gaze darting towards the door that led to the kitchen. Chloe, the usually serene surgeon, looked pale, a faint sheen of sweat on her forehead. Diana, the tech genius, was fiddling with the antique silver butter knife, her eyes wide and unfocused. Elena, the special forces commander, looked like she was about to explode. Her posture was rigid, her hands balled into fists under the table, and her eyes scanned the room as if expecting an ambush.
And then there was Leo. The golden boy. He sat opposite Aria, radiating an effortless charm, his smile just a little too perfect. He was telling her father about a "charity initiative" he was planning, his voice smooth as silk. Aria felt a surge of nausea. She remembered that charity. It had been the first step in his grand scheme to funnel Blackwood money into shell corporations.
He was oblivious. Utterly, gloriously oblivious. The thought almost made Aria smile. Not for long, you bastard. Not for long.
Julian walked in then, right on cue. He was eighteen, gangly and quiet, with a mop of dark brown hair that constantly fell into his eyes. He looked tired, even then. He wore a simple grey t-shirt and jeans, a stark contrast to the tailored elegance of the rest of the family. He avoided eye contact, heading for the seat at the far end of the table, the one furthest from the rest of them. The seat he always took. The seat that subtly screamed "outsider."
A sharp pang of regret pierced Aria's heart. He was so young. So vulnerable. And they had been so blind.
"Julian, happy birthday, dear!" Elizabeth, their mother, offered a polite, distant smile. Robert gave a curt nod. Grandmother Eleanor, however, looked at Julian with an unreadable expression, a slight tightening around her lips that Aria now understood as deep, suppressed sadness. Grandmother Eleanor had always been the wisest. She had suspected Leo's motives, but her warnings had been dismissed by a family blinded by their own success and Leo's manipulative charm.
Julian mumbled a quiet "Thanks," his gaze sweeping over the table, probably expecting the usual lectures or cold shoulders. He flinched slightly when he met Elena's gaze, which was currently a burning inferno of remorse and protectiveness.
Aria cleared her throat. "Julian, come sit here." She patted the empty seat directly next to her, a seat usually reserved for important guests or her father when he wanted to make a point.
Julian froze, his eyes widening in surprise. He looked from Aria to the empty chair, then back to Aria, as if she had grown a second head. "Uh, it's fine, Aria. This seat is good."
"Don't be silly," Beatrix chimed in, her voice unnaturally bright. She had to be forcing it. "It's your birthday, Julian. You deserve the best seat in the house." Beatrix then shot Leo a look that could curdle milk. Leo, still playing his part, just gave a charming, easy smile.
"Yes, Julian, come sit next to me," Chloe added, her voice a little too eager, making Julian flinch again. He was visibly uncomfortable with the sudden attention. It was too much, too fast. They had forgotten how sensitive he was.
Aria caught Elena's eye. Elena gave a subtle shake of her head, a silent warning. Too aggressive. He'll bolt.
"It's alright, Julian," Aria said, lowering her voice, softening her tone. "You can sit wherever you'd like. But it is your birthday. We just… we want to celebrate it with you." She tried to imbue her words with genuine warmth, the warmth she had never shown him before. The warmth she owed him a thousand times over.
Julian slowly, cautiously, made his way to the empty seat beside Aria. He sat down stiffly, like a stranger in his own home. He avoided looking at any of them directly, his gaze fixed on the perfectly arranged silverware.
The tension in the room was suffocating. Every sister was hyper-aware, every muscle tense. They were all acting. Acting like a family who cared, a family who loved their youngest brother. It was a performance, but it was a performance fuelled by genuine, heart-wrenching regret and a fierce, terrifying determination.
Mrs. Gable entered, pushing a cart laden with Julian's favourite breakfast – blueberry pancakes, crispy bacon, and a fresh fruit platter. Julian's eyes lit up for a brief moment before he remembered his usual stoic facade.
"Happy Birthday, Julian," Mrs. Gable said warmly, oblivious to the undercurrents in the room. "I hope you enjoy your breakfast."
"Thank you, Mrs. Gable," Julian said, a genuine smile finally gracing his lips. It was a small, fragile thing, but it was there.
Then, Leo made his move. "Julian, I almost forgot!" he exclaimed, pulling a small, velvet pouch from his pocket. "Your inheritance. Grandmother Eleanor told me you were finally old enough to receive it. Such a precious family heirloom."
He extended the pouch, a sly smirk playing on his lips, hidden from the parents by his angle, but perfectly visible to the sisters. Aria felt a cold dread wash over her. This was it. This was the moment. In the original timeline, Leo had already planted the Blackwood family crest—a priceless silver locket—in Julian's backpack. He was setting him up to be 'caught' with it after this display.
Aria looked at Grandmother Eleanor. The old woman met her gaze, a flicker of understanding passing between them. Eleanor had gone through this before. She knew the script.
"Leo, dear," Grandmother Eleanor said, her voice surprisingly gentle, but with an iron undertone. "You're mistaken. I actually gave Julian his locket last night." She smiled sweetly at Julian, whose eyes widened in confusion. "Didn't I, Julian? It's a special gift, my boy, to mark your coming of age."
Julian blinked. He had no locket. He hadn't seen his grandmother last night. He was about to deny it when Aria's foot subtly kicked his under the table. He looked at her, saw the intense, pleading look in her eyes, and suddenly, he decided to play along. He had no idea why.
"Oh! Right, yeah. Thanks, Grandma," Julian mumbled, a blush creeping up his neck. He quickly shoved Leo's pouch back towards him. "No, uh, I'm good, Leo. Keep yours."
Leo's smile faltered. Just for a fraction of a second, but it was there. Aria almost cheered. The first ripple in the meticulously planned future. The first crack in Leo's perfect facade.
The dining room fell silent again, save for the clinking of silverware. The sisters watched Leo like a pack of hungry wolves, barely containing their glee. He was flustered. Confused. His carefully constructed plan for Julian's humiliation had just hit a snag.
"Well, alright then," Leo said, his smile tightening. He put the velvet pouch back in his pocket, his eyes now narrowed, a subtle, almost imperceptible flicker of suspicion in their depths.