They looked exactly the same.
Diana — graceful, poised, a perfect widow in a black dress that screamed understated wealth. Her every gesture soft, practiced, and lethal.And Chloe — a carbon copy of her, except where Diana was refined, Chloe was sweet. The kind of sweet that stuck in your throat once you tasted the truth.
I could still feel her nails on my wrist. Her evil smile before she pushed me to my death. I gently touched my now flat abdomen.
I wanted to lunge at her, to scream, to tear those fake smiles off their faces.
But I didn't.
I smiled instead.
Because I remembered something my father always said:
"Power isn't loud, Elara. It's quiet. It listens, it learns, and it waits."
I'll wait. The time will come.
"Such a lovely room you have," Diana purred, glancing around my room as if appraising its worth. "Your father was telling me how lonely you've been since your mother passed. Chloe will keep you company now."
I swallowed down bile and feigned a blush. "That's… wonderful. I've always wanted a sister."
"See, Chloe?" Diana said, her tone dripping with performative affection. "You'll be just like sisters."
Chloe stepped forward, her blonde hair catching the morning sunlight, her smile practiced. "Hi, Elara! I hope we'll get along."
Her hand extended — soft, delicate, the same one that would one day shove me off a balcony.
I took it, and squeezed. Hard.
Her expression twitched for a fraction of a second.
"Yes," I said sweetly. "I'm sure we'll get along perfectly."
"Charles dear, Elara probably just woke up. Let's give her some space for her to clean up. I'm sure we can talk over breakfast." Diana put her hand on Charles shoulder, and smiled at Elara.
Breakfast that morning felt like a dream — the kind that starts out pleasant, then turns suffocating. The setting was just like I remembered, except I know much more now than I did back then.
The Sterling dining room gleamed like a page out of a magazine — crystal chandeliers catching sunlight, silver cutlery perfectly aligned, a dozen maids gliding silently with practiced grace. The air smelled of truffle butter and coffee.
At the head of the table sat my father, Charles Sterling — still healthy, still smiling, still alive.
And beside him, with her perfectly rehearsed smile, was Diana, who was pouring him coffee.
Her eyes lit up when she saw me, warm and motherly, as though she hadn't orchestrated my death in another lifetime. "Come and sit here. Do you want waffles?"
I forced my lips into a polite curve. "Sure, Ms Diana."
"Please," she said sweetly. "Diana."
My gaze shifted — and stopped cold.
Sitting opposite me, buttering her toast with delicate precision, was Chloe. "Good morning, Elara," she chirped. "Your home is so beautiful! I've never seen a table this long before." She laughed softly, eyes darting toward Diana. "I told Mother it felt like dining in a palace."
I twisted the napkin under the table, and tried to respond with something nice. But all I could get out was "Good morning, Chloe."
I picked up my spoon, ignoring the twist in my stomach. Around us, the maids moved with silent efficiency — pouring coffee, refilling juice, setting down plates of smoked salmon, croissants, waffles and fresh fruit. For a moment, there was peace, as our cutleries clicked against the white porcelain plates.
But Diana just had to break that little piece of peace.
"Charles," she began casually, "since the girls are getting along so well, perhaps it's time to make things official. We could introduce Chloe as your daughter — part of the Sterling family."
The world tilted for a second.
My fingers froze around my cup's handle.
My father lowered his newspaper, brow furrowing. "Let's not rush, Diana. Elara's still adjusting. She doesn't know you or Chloe well enough just yet." His voice softened. "She deserves time."
He looked at me then — not with guilt, not with impatience, but with love.
My throat tightened. In my first life, I'd been too blinded by all the fights I have with him to notice how much he loved me. Fights which, on recollection, seems to began after Diana and Chloe moved in.
Diana's lips curved faintly, though her knuckles whitened around her fork. "Of course. I only meant to help the girls bond faster. I think Elara won't mind too, right dear?"
I smiled sweetly. "That's very kind of you, Ms. Diana. But I think I'd like a little time too."
The silence that followed was almost imperceptible — the faintest tension beneath Diana's perfect exterior.
My father cleared his throat. "That settles it then. No rush. We'll take things one step at a time."
He smiled at me, and I smiled back. It felt like sunlight through glass — fragile, fleeting.
I'll protect you this time, Father.
You won't die for their ambition again.
After breakfast, I went to the garden.
It was still the same — the marble fountain, the glass greenhouse, the Verbena plants mother planted.
They were still blooming. Tiny, purple, defiant.I knelt and touched the petals, a lump forming in my throat.
"I'm back, Mom," I whispered. "This time, I won't let them harm daddy or me."
That night, after the house fell silent, I sat by the window of my room. The moonlight spilled across my desk, silver and cold. My reflection in the glass was young — but my eyes weren't.
My mind spun through the day — through ten years of memory that didn't belong to this body.
I didn't understand how I was here, or what force had turned back time. But the reason didn't matter anymore.
What mattered was that I'd been given a second chance.
I reached for a notebook and began to write, not a plan — not yet — but fragments of memory. Dates. Names. Major news. Deals. The day Liam proposed. The night he sold me out. The way the balcony railing felt under my hands before I fell.
The ink bled across the page as my breath trembled.
They thought they'd buried me.But I was still here.
And this time, I wouldn't just survive them.I'd erase them.
"Miss Elara?" The voice at the door startled me. I closed my notebook shut and put it in a drawer.
It was Miriam, our old housekeeper. Kind eyes, steady hands — one of the few who truly cared for me before Diana fired her years later.
"You should be in bed," she said.
"I couldn't sleep," I said softly. "I was just… thinking about Mom."
Miriam sighed. "It will take some time..." Miriam said, thinking this was about Diana. "She'd be proud of you. You've grown into such a lovely young lady."
I smiled faintly. I was nowhere near lovely in my past life. I lost everything.
"Miss Elara, you should really get some rest now. It will be better tomorrow."
I nodded and smiled at her as I walked to my bed. "Good night, Miriam." "Good night, Miss Elara."