The morning sun filtered through the dusty curtains of her small bedroom. Evelyn slowly sat up, her hand instinctively resting on her stomach. The sharp sting of nausea had returned, twisting in her belly like a cruel reminder. But this time, she welcomed it.
She was pregnant.
Again.
And this time, she swore she would never let anyone take her child from her—not even its father.
Her breath came out in shaky waves as she swung her legs off the bed and stood. The hardwood floor was cold against her bare feet, but it helped clear her spinning thoughts. Her rebirth hadn't been a dream. The past two days had been too vivid to be anything but real.
She was back.
Back before the engagement, back before the heartbreak, and most importantly, back before she lost her baby.
Her fingers clenched the hem of her old T-shirt. She needed to be careful—every move she made now had to be calculated. Her family would still try to marry her off for status. Her mother would still be pushing her toward Nicholas Sullivan, the young, cold billionaire who had shown interest in her family only for appearances.
In her past life, she had gone along with it. She'd been naive. Foolish. She had thought she could warm Nicholas's heart if she loved him enough.
But she had been so, so wrong.
This time, Evelyn would not make that mistake.
---
Downstairs, the house was still. Her mother had already left for her morning social gatherings. Her father—if he even came home last night—was nowhere in sight.
Evelyn made her way quietly to the kitchen. She needed something light—crackers maybe, or toast. Her stomach flipped at the thought of anything heavier.
As she stood at the counter, nibbling dry bread, her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen.
Mom: "Be ready by 5 PM. We're attending the Sullivan Charity Gala tonight. Wear something decent. Don't embarrass me."
Evelyn's heart dropped.
The Sullivan Gala.
That was the night it had all begun last time—the chain of events that led to her destruction.
She remembered it all too clearly: the lights, the champagne, the polite laughter hiding venomous intentions. That night, Nicholas had noticed her—not because he wanted her, but because she had been the "suitable" daughter from a struggling noble family. A match that made business sense.
He had never loved her. Not once.
And yet… she had fallen for him.
What a fool she'd been.
---
Evelyn dropped the phone on the table, her appetite gone.
She needed a plan.
First, confirm the pregnancy officially. She couldn't rely on the vague memories of her last life and the queasy mornings alone. Then, she'd need to protect her identity and her child. If she went to a hospital, there'd be records. Too risky. She couldn't let her mother or Nicholas—or anyone else—learn the truth.
She'd need to go somewhere discreet.
A small smile touched her lips as she remembered Mrs. Hadley, the warm-hearted nurse who had once helped her during her early pregnancy days—before everything went wrong.
She still worked at a private clinic downtown. Quiet. No questions asked. Evelyn grabbed her bag and slipped on a hoodie, pulling the hood low over her face.
---
The city felt different today.
Not because the streets had changed, but because she had. Evelyn wasn't the same girl blindly walking toward a ruined future. Now, every step was deliberate. Her rebirth wasn't a gift—it was a responsibility. A second chance. A quiet war.
She arrived at the clinic just after noon. The receptionist barely looked up when Evelyn gave a false name and requested a private test. She didn't care. The fewer questions, the better.
"Are you sure you don't want to wait for a doctor's consultation?" the receptionist asked after handing her the kit.
"I'm sure," Evelyn said, clutching the small paper bag tightly.
Fifteen minutes later, her hands trembled as she read the results.
Positive.
It was real.
She was carrying the same child—his child.
But this time, it would be different.
---
She returned home in silence. Her mother wasn't back yet, but a sleek black garment bag hung in the hallway with a note attached.
"Wear this tonight. Don't make me regret investing in your future." —Mom
Evelyn peeled the bag open and let out a dry laugh. It was the same dress she had worn to the gala in her past life. Tight-fitting, crimson red, with a plunging neckline. Her mother always believed in showcasing assets, not dignity.
Well, if they wanted a show tonight, they'd get one. But she would not let history repeat itself.
As the sun dipped low in the sky, Evelyn slowly got ready. She applied soft makeup, tied her long dark hair into a sleek low bun, and stared at her reflection. Her eyes looked sharper now. Harder.
She didn't look like the same girl who had once fallen in love with a man who never looked at her twice outside business dealings.
---
At 5:45 PM, a chauffeur-driven car pulled up in front of their house. Her mother emerged, elegant and cold.
"You're late," she snapped the moment Evelyn stepped outside. "Fix your posture. Don't look so stiff."
Evelyn said nothing.
As they drove to the venue, her mother continued lecturing her about behaving properly in front of the Sullivans.
"You may only have one chance to impress him," she said. "Nicholas Sullivan is the kind of man who doesn't tolerate foolish women. Show him you're quiet, obedient, and refined. Don't speak unless spoken to."
Evelyn stared out the window, biting back a bitter smile.
You mean, don't think. Just marry, get used, and be discarded.
But she said nothing. Not yet.
---
The Sullivan Gala was grand—just as she remembered.
White marble steps led into the ballroom, draped in gold and silver banners. Strings of crystal chandeliers glimmered overhead. Laughter, clinking glasses, and the soft hum of classical music filled the air.
Evelyn walked beside her mother with quiet grace. She could feel eyes turning toward her—the same society vultures who gossiped behind their manicured hands.
"Is that the daughter from the Huntleys?"
"She looks...different this time."
"I heard they're hoping for a match with Nicholas…"
The name made her spine stiffen.
And then she saw him.
Nicholas Sullivan.
Towering, broad-shouldered, dressed in a crisp black suit with a silver pocket square. His dark hair swept back with precision, jawline sharp enough to cut glass. Those cold grey eyes scanned the room like a calculating machine.
And then, they landed on her.
For the briefest second, something flickered across his face—surprise? Confusion?
But Evelyn looked away first.
---
"Nicholas," her mother cooed as they approached. "You remember my daughter Evelyn, don't you?"
Nicholas's gaze returned to her. "I believe I do," he said slowly, eyes narrowing. "Though… she seems different."
Evelyn met his eyes, chin raised. "People change," she said coolly. "Especially after realizing what they truly want."
That startled him.
Her mother's face twitched in panic, but Evelyn smiled sweetly.
"Excuse me," she said, stepping past him. "I need some air."
Nicholas watched her go, eyebrows furrowed.
---
Outside on the balcony, Evelyn exhaled a shaky breath. Her heart was racing. But it wasn't fear—it was adrenaline. For the first time, she'd stood up for herself. Not for her family. Not for status. For her.
Behind her, the door creaked open.
She didn't have to look to know who it was.
Nicholas's presence was unmistakable.
"You speak differently now," he said.
"I think differently now," she replied.
"Interesting."
There was a pause.
"You're not the type I usually see at events like this," he continued, voice quieter. "You're not trying to impress me."
"Should I be?"
"No," he said slowly. "It's...refreshing."
---
Evelyn turned to face him. The man who would one day betray her, knowingly or not. But right now, he wasn't her enemy. Not yet.
She would play this carefully.
Let him come closer.
So she could stay far away.