Chapter 1: The Moment of Death

The rain fell in sheets, relentless and unforgiving. It lashed against the windows of the Rothsford estate like an angry wave crashing against the shore, each drop heavy with the weight of the storm outside. The towering mansion stood against the tempest like a fortress, a symbol of power and legacy, but inside, it was the scene of her undoing.

Vivienne Rothsford stood at the gates, her hands trembling as she struggled to pry open the heavy, iron-bound door. The keys she had once carried with pride, the keys to this empire, were now useless. The metal felt cold beneath her fingertips, but it was nothing compared to the chill spreading through her chest. Her heart, once full of hope, had turned to ice.

Her dress, a delicate gown meant for a family gathering, now clung to her like a second skin, soaked through with the rain that had drenched her to the bone. She could taste the salt on her lips, though she wasn’t sure if it was from the tears she had long since shed or from the bitter sting of betrayal.

“I didn’t do it,” she whispered to the night, the words breaking through her lips in a hoarse, broken sob. “I didn’t leak the files. I didn’t embezzle a cent.”

But no one would listen. Not the board of directors, who had turned their backs on her with cold indifference. Not the press, who painted her as a villain in their headlines. Not even her parents, who had raised her as their own daughter—until they hadn’t.

Not Father, who had once looked at her with such pride, calling her the future of the Rothsford empire.

Not Mother, whose gentle hand had guided her through years of preparation for the responsibility she had been groomed for since she was a child.

And certainly not Ivy—their real daughter, the one they had abandoned years ago only to welcome her back like a queen. Ivy, with her honeyed words and false sympathy, who had played her role to perfection and had shattered Vivienne’s world in an instant.

“Ivy wouldn’t do something like that,” they had said. “She’s always been our darling. You must have made a mistake, Vivienne.”

But it wasn’t a mistake. It wasn’t even a misunderstanding. Ivy had orchestrated it all, with cunning precision. The leaks. The forged transfers. The fabricated evidence. The emails that tied Vivienne to crimes she hadn’t committed. Ivy, who had disappeared for years, had come back and stolen everything—her birthright, her family’s love, and now, her reputation.

She had been framed. And the worst part was, no one cared enough to see the truth.

“Vivienne Rothsford, fraud, embezzler, liar,” the headlines screamed. “Disowned by the Rothsford family.”

She couldn’t escape it. Not the public shaming. Not the whispers. Not the broken relationship with her parents. They had turned their backs on her without so much as a second thought. For years, they had been training her, grooming her to take over the empire. She had excelled, proven herself worthy of the title of heir.

But none of it mattered now.

Her knees buckled beneath her as the realization set in—she was alone.

She had spent her entire life trying to earn their love, their approval. She had followed their rules, played their game, done everything they had asked of her. But in the end, it had never been enough. Ivy was their real daughter. She was the one they had chosen. Vivienne was nothing more than an afterthought, a mistake that had been cast aside the moment it suited them.

She pressed her hands against the cold gates, her fingers numb from the rain and the sheer weight of what had happened. Her vision blurred as the storm raged around her, but it was the suffocating sense of betrayal that clouded her mind. How could they? How could they do this to her after everything?

The sound of a car engine broke through her spiraling thoughts, and for a moment, she looked up, her gaze meeting the headlights cutting through the rain. A black sedan, sleek and polished, came into view, its engine purring with the kind of quiet power she had once associated with the Rothsford name.

It was coming straight toward her. The headlights grew brighter, illuminating her in their harsh glow. For a moment, she thought she might be dreaming. Or perhaps the weight of her grief had finally driven her mad.

Then, with a screech of tires, the car veered toward her.

The headlights blinded her as they filled her vision, and instinctively, she stepped back, trying to scramble to safety, but her body was too slow. The rain had turned the ground slick, and her feet slipped from beneath her. The car was upon her before she could react, and she felt the sickening impact as her body was thrown backward.

Everything happened in slow motion. The scream she wanted to release never came. The world spun in a dizzying blur of light, sound, and pain. The car’s headlights swallowed her whole, and the last thing she felt was the coldness of the pavement against her skin.

Her breath hitched in her chest, her body unable to respond. And then, there was nothing.

When Vivienne awoke, the first sensation that hit her was the smell of jasmine. It was sweet and heady, a fragrance that instantly brought back memories of the Rothsford estate—the scent that had greeted her every morning in the family garden. She blinked, her eyes fluttering open to find a room bathed in soft, golden light.

Her surroundings were familiar, yet they felt impossibly distant. The room was just as it had been when she was a child: lavender wallpaper, delicate lace curtains fluttering in the breeze, and a stuffed bear sitting in the corner of the room, just like it had been all those years ago. Her heart skipped a beat. This was her old bedroom.

She shot up from the bed, her pulse racing. The covers fell away from her body as she stumbled to the mirror across the room. She stood before it, eyes wide, heart thundering in her chest. The reflection that greeted her was not the face of the woman she had become after years of struggle, defeat, and betrayal. No, this was the face of a younger Vivienne—one without the lines of stress, the haunted look that had consumed her after the public shaming. Her skin was smooth, her eyes clear, her lips unmarked by the bitterness that had once claimed them.

For a moment, she thought she might be dreaming. Or perhaps she had crossed over into some alternate reality. But as the memories surged back—flooding her mind with the events that had led to her downfall—she knew, with startling clarity, that this was not a dream. She was back.

Back to before everything went wrong.

Back to the time when Ivy had first returned to the family, before the betrayals, before the lies.

She stared at her reflection, her thoughts spinning, but one truth cut through the chaos: this was a second chance. The universe had granted her an opportunity to rewrite the story. She could take back what had been stolen from her. She didn’t have to play by their rules anymore.

She didn’t have to fight for their love. Not anymore.

She had been the one they had trained to inherit the Rothsford empire. It was her destiny. And if they had forgotten that, she would remind them.

This time, she wouldn’t play the part of the dutiful daughter, seeking affection from a family who didn’t care. This time, Vivienne Rothsford would take their fortune. And she would burn everything else to the ground.

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