Iris Clark had come back from the dead.

Back to the exact moment, right before her engagement to Damian Blackwood.

In her past life, she bailed.

Three days later, broke and desperate, the Blackwoods tracked her down.

Dragged her back.

She suffered through it all, yet still couldn’t dodge marrying Damian.

Damian Blackwood.

The very name made her heart skip a beat.

That man—crazy, obsessive, cold, and ruthless.

Yet, he was also the one who’d willingly die for her. That version of him, so full of painful affection, always left her at a loss.

His love? Like chains. Tight. Suffocating.

And now, it was all happening again.

Iris parted her lips slightly, letting out a quiet breath.

She shoved all those gory memories to the back of her mind.

Her legs felt weak as she swung them off the bed.

Just then, a knock broke the early morning silence.

Startled, Iris shivered. She shot a glance at the clock—five-thirty.

Same time as last life...

Her trembling fingers curled slowly into a fist as she pushed down the storm in her eyes and stepped to the door.

And just as she expected.

That young-looking face at the door was already starting to blur into the twisted one that once strangled her child.

A surge of fury rushed up—it took everything in her not to tear Monica Ward apart.

Monica reached out to grab her, but Iris dodged.

Taken aback, Monica frowned. “Yanyan, are you sick? You’re shaking all over.”

Iris shook her head, staying silent.

Monica thought Iris seemed... different today.

But, focused on her plan, she didn’t push further. “Yanyan, here’s a bank card with a hundred grand. Everything I’ve saved. Take the money and run off with Harold Wolseley.”

The sharp edge of the card dug into Iris’s palm—it hurt.

She shot Monica a cold smirk.

That one look sent chills down Monica’s spine. “What’s going on? Don’t tell me you're still hesitating? Damian’s a total psycho—he’s already ‘dealt with’ four fiancées. I’m doing this for your own good.”

Iris chuckled, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “How thoughtful of you, Monica.”

Monica secretly smiled to herself. That’s more like the dumb Iris she knew!

She kept throwing lines about “take care” while shoving Iris toward the door.

Iris locked eyes with her for a long second—then turned and walked off without looking back.

But something about the way Iris left made Monica uneasy.

She felt... like Iris wasn’t quite the same anymore.

——

Roma Holiday Hotel.

The air almost crackled. Tension thick.

The engagement party turned into a joke. The bride-to-be had bailed, and now the Blackwoods were a laughingstock across North City.

A family as powerful and prestigious as the Blackwoods—low-key, respected—never imagined their first time in the gossip spotlight would be for Damian Blackwood getting jilted.

Knock knock knock—

Damian shifted slightly, his dark gaze barely flickering.

Alton Lane opened the door.

Monica Ward stood there, fingers nervously twisting together. “Hi, I’m here to see Mr. Blackwood.”

Thinking about what she was going to do next made her cheeks flush bright red.

Alton led her in.

One look at Damian and Monica felt her heart pound like crazy.

The man was ridiculously good-looking. Like straight-from-a-dream, disaster-level attractive.

Every facial feature was perfectly sculpted. Flawless.

Even those cool eyes felt like they were hidden behind a layer of mist—mysterious and unreadable.

Heart still racing, Monica stepped forward. “Mr. Blackwood, I’m Iris’s best friend. She told me to tell you this: she doesn’t love you, and she’d rather die than marry you.”

Damian let out a cold scoff. “And?”

Monica took a deep breath. “The guests are already here. Since Iris embarrassed the Blackwoods, as her best friend, I want to make it up to you. Mr. Blackwood, I volunteer to take her place and get engaged to you. To salvage your reputation.”

He finally looked up, eyes glinting with mocking amusement as they landed on her face. “You? Seriously?”