Chapter 3 April Seventh
\-Celeste-
Noises. Loud and Cheerful.
Why? I wondered.
Light stabbed through my eyelids. The air smelled like flowers and linen, not blood and antiseptic. There were no beeping machines. No pain in my spine.
Was this what the afterlife felt like?
My fingers curled into soft fabric. A pillow and a bed.
Then, someone opened the curtains. “Finally awake, Miss Ashford?” a voice said cheerfully. “You’ve overslept again.”
I opened my eyes to see two staff members. One stood by the window, still drawing back the curtains, while the other held a tray in her hand. Apart from them, everything around me was exactly the same.
I could feel my body, I could twist and turn. I wasn’t paralyzed. Slowly, I sat up, heart pounding. There were no tubes, no scars.
What the hell was going on?
“What... what time is it?” My voice cracked.
The first one turned, still holding the tray. “Just past nine. You have a hair appointment, remember? "Tonight will be so exciting!” She squealed.
Tonight?
“Wait—what day is it?”
“Your engagement party, Miss.” She blinked, “Mr. Blackwell and your family will be expecting you. It’s the big day.”
I stared at her. No. No, it couldn’t be
.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed. “The date. What’s the date?”
She smiled like I was joking. “April seventh.”
My stomach dropped. My ears rang. April seventh. A month before the crash. A month before the betrayal.
That only meant…I was back.
Alive, breathing, unscathed—and somehow, back in time. I looked at my reflection in the mirror, trying to piece out what was happening, because none of it made a damn sense.
Rebirth happened in fantasy novels, not in real life, so how could this be? Was this what Colin’s uncle meant? Was he reborn too?
I stood, pressing a hand to my chest. The last thing I remembered was the sound of my heartbeat slowing. The dark. The silence. The machine unplugged.
I had died.
And now I was here. Maybe fate had given me a second chance. I had died betrayed, humiliated and murdered by the so-called people I called family.
“I won’t make the same mistake twice,” I whispered. This time, I would live for myself.
By 6 p.m., I was in a red dress—the one I’d chosen at the last minute over my grandmother’s pick. Corseted, high-slit, and with an almost compromising neckline. To me, it wasn’t just a dress. It was a statement.
“Snug,” one of the staff gently said. “Want us to ease it down a bit, Miss Ashford?”
“No,” I said. Tighter. “Revenge is best served in a tight red dress.” I blurted without thinking.
Before either of them could speak, the door opened, and my stepmother entered. “You both can leave,” she said flatly.
The staff didn’t hesitate. They dropped their hands and walked out without a word.
Quietly, she picked up the laces with one hand and examined them like the staff had offended her.
“These girls were doing it all wrong,” she muttered. “Do I have to do everything myself?”
This was the mild, pleasant tone she had carried over the years, disguising her true intentions like a green snake in the grass. Too bad I could see through the façade.It was there in her tone, and now as she pulled the corset just a little too tight with each tug, it was precise. Purposeful. Almost as if she wanted me to lose my breath.
“It’s the first time you’ve defied your grandmother’s wishes. And I must say you’ve really outdone yourself, Celeste,” she said. “Tacky rather than lovely, really. Let’s just hope you don’t fall apart tonight.”
I stayed quiet. Let her talk.
“You’ve always been easy to handle,” she continued. Grateful. Quiet. No trouble. That’s rare. And useful.”
She tied the laces quickly. Smoothed the fabric, then stepped back.
“Just keep it that way. Don’t over-complicate what’s already been settled.”
I met her eyes in the mirror, allowing a smirk to spread on my face. “Right,” I said. “Thank you, Vanessa,” I added, voice cool.
She blinked, the smile faltering. It was the first time I had called her by her name.
I didn’t stop. “For showing me exactly who you are.”
At that moment, her face froze, as though I had discovered a secret.
Ignoring her, I turned and walked out, feeling the weight of her gaze on me.
The ballroom looked like something from the regency era. Crystal chandeliers. String quartet. Rows of champagne glasses lined up like soldiers. Every detail screamed perfection—Vanessa’s version of it, anyway.
The room buzzed with chatter. Flashes from the press lit up the space in bursts. Someone laughed too loudly. Heads turned, whispers spread and the wave of murmurs increased.
I kept moving.
I could hear the whispers. “There she is.” “She looks…” “That dress…” “Did Patricia Ashford really allow her to wear that?” “She’s finally sealing the deal with Colin Blackwell.”
They had no idea what was coming.
I didn’t smile. Just nodded, slow and polite. I scanned the crowd. Familiar faces. Investors. Family friends. Reporters who had written fluff pieces about my “fairy tale romance.”
And then I saw them.
Colin. Standing near the bar, drink in hand, looking like he owned the room. Confident. Relaxed. That same fake charm everyone kept falling for and next to him was Lilith.
My steps slowed.
She was laughing at something he said. Her fingers brushed his arm lightly. He didn’t flinch, neither did he move away. So it started this early. Before the crash. Before our engagement.
I was a fool not to have noticed, and tonight, they didn’t even have the decency to pretend.
Just then, I saw him. Colin’s Uncle. The man who had seemingly predicted the mess I’d end up in. Now, here he was, clad in a tailored suit, standing in the corner like his presence was merely air.
How was it that I had never noticed him until now?
“Celeste!” Grandmother called, sharp and loud. I turned, only to be met with fury in her eyes. “What are you wearing?” She said through gritted teeth. “Where’s the white dress I picked out for you?”
“I didn’t like it, so I had it changed,” I firmly said.
I watched the sheer horror on her face—and then, just like that, it faded into a warm smile. One that looked like she'd rehearsed in front of a mirror. Turning to the guests, she clinked the glass in her hand.
“Can I have everyone’s attention?”
The ballroom was quiet now—watchful. The kind of quiet that always came before a headline. Colin appeared out of nowhere, hand outstretched. What a performer.
I didn’t take it.
My grandmother had the microphone. “Celeste, darling. Come forward. It’s time.”
I did. But not for the reason anyone expected.
“Thank you all for coming tonight.” She continued, her smile filled with joy and hope. Her words blurred as my mind wandered.
Patricia Ashford. She had a knack for getting things the way she wanted. Her ruthlessness was what had kept the Ashford Empire on its feet. She was cold. Calculated. And no one, not even my father, could defy her. So how could I? Well, I was past caring.
To her, I was simply a pawn in her game of chess. Now I was done playing.
“I have something to say.” I stepped forward, interrupting her. Collecting the mic. “I know we are here to celebrate my engagement. But I won’t be marrying Colin Blackwell.”
The words hit like a brick. A few people gasped, and a photographer clicked too early.
Colin’s smile vanished as he turned to me. “Babe, what the hell are you talking about?” he muttered.
I didn’t even glance at him. Instead, I scanned the crowd—slowly and quietly until I saw him in a corner again. “I won’t be marrying Colin,” I said again, my voice firmer. “Because I chose someone else.”
I pointed straight at him.
“Lucien?” Colin snapped. So that was his name.
“Yes… Lucien Blackwell is the man I choose.” My heart raced as the words tumbled out of my mouth.
All eyes turned as gasps followed. Phones lifted. Someone whispered, “Isn’t that his uncle?”
Lucien didn’t react, at least not outwardly. But he didn’t look away.
Colin’s voice cut through the confusion. “This is a joke. You’re not serious.”
Grandmother swayed slightly. “Celeste, what are you—”
“You heard me right, Grandmother—”
Before I had a chance to finish my sentence, she slapped me hard. She opened her mouth to speak, but her voice caught. One hand clutched her chest.
And just like that, she dropped. Screams broke out as guests rushed forward. Staff called for help.
The room exploded in chaos. But I stayed where I was, still holding the mic, watching Lucien across the crowd, where his eyes didn’t move from mine.