Chapter 1
After her rebirth, the first thing Isabella Claymore did was fall to her knees before her parents, her voice trembling with earnest conviction.
“Dad, Mom… regarding the arranged marriage with the Moretti family, I choose to marry Lucius Moretti.”
Her parents exchanged bewildered glances at their daughter’s unexpected request.
“Isabella, honey,” her mother said gently, “aren’t you in love with Ronan? Lucius is his uncle.”
Something flickered in Isabella’s eyes—a shadow of pain that made her voice catch.
“It’s precisely because I know the consequences of loving him that I can’t afford to anymore.”
“Dad, Mom, I’ve never asked anything of you before. As the daughter who’s enjoyed all the privileges of this family, I understand that an arranged marriage is my responsibility. But this… this is the one thing I’m asking for. Just this once—please, I’m begging you.”
Seeing their daughter’s forehead red from kowtowing, her parents sighed and helped her to her feet. “If you’re really sure about this, we’ll talk to the Morettis. The only thing is—Lucius is in a pretty powerful position. He might say no. You need to be ready for that.”
While comforting their daughter, the Claymores prepared generous gifts for their visit to the Moretti estate.
As the black sedan disappeared down the driveway, Isabella turned back toward the familiar living room, everything feeling surreal.
Suddenly, her phone buzzed.
[Midnight Lounge. Come now.]
It was from Ronan Moretti, along with the bar’s address. Thinking this might be the perfect opportunity to clarify the change in marriage arrangements, Isabella headed over.
The moment she pushed open the private room door, a bucket of ice water came crashing down, soaking her completely.
The shock of the cold water penetrated her skin, making her shiver as cruel laughter erupted around her.
“Well, well, if it isn’t the Claymore princess! Look at you, drenched like a drowned rat!”
“Serves her right! Always chasing after Ronan like some pathetic lapdog—this is what desperate bitches get!”
Ronan approached with a cold expression, his eyes dark with contempt.
“Are you that desperate to marry me? The arrangement was barely discussed, and you’re already pushing your parents to finalize wedding plans. Now everyone in Chicago knows about our supposed engagement. Happy now?”
Isabella realized he’d misunderstood everything.
She wiped the water from her face, pushing back her wet hair, and looked at him with unexpected calm.
“The Claymore-Moretti alliance was always inevitable. It makes no difference which family initiates the discussion. But don’t worry—this has nothing to do with you.”
Ronan froze for a moment, then let out a harsh laugh. “Nothing to do with me? Don’t tell me you actually think you’re marrying someone else. Come on—who the hell in the Moretti family would even want you?”
Before Isabella could respond, the door burst open.
Heyar Whitlow stumbled in, tears streaming down her face at the scene before her.
“Ronan… I heard you’re getting married. I wasn’t sure if I should come, but… I just wanted to say congratulations. I truly hope you and Miss Claymore will be happy together. Forever. Really.”
With that, she fled the room, her sobs echoing in the hallway.
“Heyar, wait!”
Ronan instantly panicked, brushing Isabella aside as he rushed after her.
Isabella crashed into the coffee table, her forehead splitting open. Blood trickled down her face in a gruesome stream.
As pain shot through her skull, she watched their retreating figures and memories from her past life came flooding back.
In her previous life, Isabella and Ronan had grown up together, childhood sweethearts with what seemed like an unbreakable bond.
When their parents mentioned the arranged marriage, Isabella remembered all of Ronan’s tender care over the years and chose him without hesitation.
But after the engagement was announced, his attitude toward her began to shift—from anger to indifference, and finally to disgust.
Isabella couldn’t understand why, but she married him anyway, believing things would improve after the wedding.
Even after their daughter was born, nothing changed. Then one day, she discovered thousands of photographs of Heyar hidden in his study.
That’s when she realized the truth: he’d always loved the housekeeper’s daughter, but their class differences made such a relationship impossible.
When Heyar married another man two years later, the marriage was troubled from the start. Ronan drowned his sorrows in alcohol, mourning for her happiness.
The day Heyar’s husband died in a car accident was the happiest day of Ronan’s life.
Isabella witnessed it all, her heart breaking piece by piece, but she forced herself to focus solely on raising their daughter.
Until the kidnapping.
Both their daughter and Heyar’s son were taken. When the kidnappers forced Ronan to choose which child to save, he hesitated for only seconds before choosing the boy—who wasn’t even his blood relative.
The next moment, their daughter was pushed from the rooftop.
Isabella watched her child die and threw herself from the same building.
Now, given a second chance, she refused to torture herself again. She would cut all ties with Ronan Moretti.
Back in the private room, the crowd continued their cruel mockery.
“You can’t force love, right? I mean, sure—he might marry her, but what’s the point if he spends every night in someone else’s bed?”
“She chased his ass for years just to end up alone in a mansion, waiting on a man who’s never showing up. huh? Serves her right.”
A sudden buzz cut through the laughter—Isabella’s phone was ringing.
A message from her parents appeared on the screen:
“Isabella! Lucius agreed! The wedding is in two weeks!”
Her usually composed parents had used three exclamation points, showing just how shocked and thrilled they were by Lucius Moretti’s acceptance.
Isabella felt a wave of relief wash over her.
She stood up, steadied herself, and faced the room full of mockers with newfound determination in her eyes.
“My future has nothing to do with you—or with Ronan Moretti.”
“Tell him this: I’m getting married in two weeks. And he won’t be the groom.”
