Chapter 1

The pain was a fire. It burned through Ethan Miller' s shattered bones, his torn flesh. He lay on a cold, damp floor, the metallic smell of his own blood thick in the air.

Isabella Rossi, the woman he loved since childhood, watched. Her eyes were cold, empty of the warmth he remembered. Daniel Chen stood beside her, his arm around her waist.

His life flashed. Isabella, laughing, her hair like sunshine, as they ran through Central Park as kids.

Isabella, her face pale with worry, when her family' s business collapsed, and his father, Mr. Miller, stepped in to save them.

Isabella, her eyes shining with something new, something fierce, when she met Daniel Chen, an intern at her company.

Then the betrayal. Miller Holdings, his family's legacy, crumbling under Isabella' s systematic attacks.

His parents, their health failing under the stress, the ruin. His father' s heart attack. His mother' s stroke.

All because Isabella believed Ethan had orchestrated Daniel Chen's "accidental death" – an accident Ethan now knew was staged.

He remembered the goons Isabella sent. The questions. The torture. He tried to speak, to tell her the truth, but blood filled his mouth.

He was dying. He knew it.

And as the darkness closed in, a chilling thought, sharp and clear, pierced through the agony. This was never your story, Ethan. You were just a chapter, a villain to make their love story more tragic, more destined.

His world, his suffering, his death – all a setup for Isabella and Daniel, the true hero and heroine. He was the obstacle they overcame. His family, collateral damage.

The injustice of it was a fresh wave of torment, worse than the physical pain. He closed his eyes, a single tear escaping, tracing a path through the grime on his cheek.

This was his end. A disposable pawn.

Then, light. Not heavenly, but harsh, office fluorescence.

Ethan gasped, his body jerking. He wasn't on a cold floor. He was in a plush leather chair, in a familiar conference room. His hands, they weren't broken. He flexed them. Whole.

Across the mahogany table sat Arthur Vance, Isabella' s lawyer. Vance looked surprised by Ethan' s sudden movement.

A stack of papers lay between them.

"Mr. Miller? Are you alright?" Vance asked, his voice smooth, professional.

Ethan' s heart hammered. He looked around. The calendar on the wall. The date. Years. Years before his death.

He was alive. He was back.

The exact moment. He remembered this moment. This was when Isabella first moved to sever their ties.

Vance cleared his throat. "As I was saying, Ms. Rossi is prepared to offer one hundred million dollars to dissolve the Business and Personal Alliance Agreement."

In his first life, Ethan had been hurt, confused. He' d argued, tried to hold on. He' d loved her. He' d believed in their shared history, their families' intertwined fates.

What a fool he' d been.

The trauma of his death, the vivid memories of pain and betrayal, were branded onto his soul. He felt cold, a deep, unshakeable chill.

He looked at Vance. His voice, when he spoke, was devoid of emotion.

"I accept."

Vance blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I accept the offer," Ethan repeated, his gaze steady. "One hundred million. Draw up the papers. I'll sign them today."

The lawyer looked genuinely shocked. He probably expected a fight, negotiations, emotional outbursts. Ethan Miller, scion of Miller Holdings, wasn't known for backing down.

But this Ethan Miller had died once. He knew the script. And he was desperate to escape it.

"Well, then," Vance recovered quickly. "Excellent. I'll have the final documents sent over by end of day."

As soon as Vance left, Ethan called his parents. His voice was urgent, tight.

"Dad, Mom. I need you to do something for me. No questions, please, just trust me."

He heard the concern in his mother' s voice. "Ethan, what' s wrong?"

"We need to move your assets. Offshore. Immediately. And you need to leave New York. Go to Switzerland, maybe a quiet place in Europe. Somewhere safe."

"Safe? Ethan, what is this about?" his father asked, his tone firm but worried.

Ethan couldn't tell them he' d seen their future, their ruin, their deaths. He couldn't tell them their beloved Isabella would destroy them.

"It's... a business precaution. A serious threat I' ve become aware of. Please, Dad. For me. Do it today."

The desperation in his voice must have convinced them. After a tense silence, his father agreed. "Alright, son. We'll start the arrangements."

Relief, sharp and immediate, washed over Ethan. Step one.

Later that day, Isabella herself called. Her voice was clipped, suspicious.

"Ethan, Arthur told me you accepted the buyout. Just like that. What game are you playing?"

He could almost see her, pacing her office, her mind racing, trying to decipher his motives.

"No game, Isabella," he said, his tone flat. "You wanted out. You got it."

"I don't believe you. This isn't like you."

"People change."

There was a pause. Then, her voice softened, a calculated shift. "Ethan, I... I need this. For Daniel. He' s everything to me. I' d do anything for him."

Even before the cancer diagnosis he knew was coming for Daniel, her devotion was absolute. In his first life, he' d seen her sacrifice everything for Daniel, including her own integrity, her own soul. And him.

He remembered her kneeling by Daniel' s (fake) grave, weeping, swearing vengeance on whoever was responsible. Vengeance she exacted on Ethan.

The memory was a cold knife.

"I understand," Ethan said, his voice still empty. He had to witness it again, this raw, unwavering devotion. It was a confirmation, a painful seal on his past life' s knowledge.

She was the heroine. Daniel was the hero. He was the villain.

"Good," she said, though she still sounded unsure. "I' ll expect the signed papers."

She hung up.

Ethan stared at the phone. The script was already in motion. But this time, he knew the lines. He knew the plot.

And he would not play his assigned role. He would burn the script before it burned him again.

He had to. For his parents. For himself. For a chance at a life that wasn't a tragedy written by someone else.