LOGINRoman's Pov
She was still unconscious when we reached my private doctor. The wounds were mostly superficial, cuts, bruises, a mild concussion, but the terror in her eyes before she passed out had been real.
I sat in the hallway outside the examination room, staring at the blood on my sleeves. My blood? Hers? I couldn’t tell.
My head of security approached quietly. “The two men are in custody. They’re professionals. No IDs, but we’re running prints. One of them mentioned Margaret Ashworth before he shut up.”
I nodded. “Keep them isolated. No calls.”
“Already done, sir. But they’re not talking much. These guys are trained. Should I bring in our interrogators?”
“Not yet,” I replied. “Let them sweat first. I want to know exactly who hired them and how deep this goes. Cross-check with anything we have on the Ashworth family’s known associates.”
“Understood. I’ll keep you updated the second we get anything solid. We’ve also secured the crash site. The driver didn’t make it, sir. Single gunshot to the head. This was clearly planned.”
I clenched my jaw. “Make sure the authorities know this wasn’t random. And keep our own people on the perimeter. No one gets near Vivienne without my approval. If any Ashworth lawyers or contacts try to interfere, block them immediately.”
“Done. I’ve doubled the guards on this floor too. No surprises.”
Vivienne had said something right before she fainted. *They killed me once already.* The words kept repeating in my mind. Delirium? Or something worse?
The doctor emerged, wiping his hands. “She’ll be fine. Rest, fluids, monitoring for twenty-four hours. She’s asking for you.”
I stood. “Thank you. Is she coherent? Any signs of confusion or memory issues from the concussion?”
The doctor shook his head. “She’s remarkably clear-headed given what she’s been through. Just keep the conversation calm.”
She was propped up in bed when I entered, pale but alert. Someone had cleaned the blood from her face. The sight of her looking so small against the white sheets twisted something in my chest.
“You saved my life,” she said quietly.
I pulled a chair close. “Who were they?”
“People my family uses when problems need to disappear.” She reached for my hand. Her fingers were cold. “Roman, I need you to believe me even if it sounds impossible.”
I waited.
“I died three years from now,” she said. “Staged car accident. Clarissa made one phone call. I woke up back here with all the memories. The file. The forgeries. Everything.”
I searched her face for signs of concussion-induced confusion. There were none. Only exhaustion and absolute certainty.
“You think I’m crazy,” she whispered.
“No,” I said slowly. “I think someone has been lying to both of us for a very long time. Whether time travel is real or not… the danger is real. I saw that today. But Vivienne, you have to give me more. How does this work? How much do you actually remember? Details that only you would know.”
She took a shaky breath. “I remember the exact day Clarissa told me to step aside for ‘love.’ I remember the police closing my case in under a week. I remember the phone call she made right before the accident. Her voice was so calm… like she was ordering flowers, not arranging a murder. I remember waking up gasping in my old bed, knowing I had one chance to fix it all. The fear never left me, Roman. Every morning I wake up wondering if today is the day they succeed again.”
Roman rubbed his temple. “This is insane. If I hadn’t shown up when I did today, you’d be dead. Again. How long have you been carrying this alone? Why didn’t you come to me sooner with the documents? I could have protected you from the beginning.”
“Since the morning I woke up back here,” she admitted. “I wanted to tell you everything right away, but I was scared you’d think I lost my mind. Or worse—that you were still on their side. But you came for me today. You believed enough to follow me. That means everything.”
“I had my people tracking the car Iris sent after Clarissa started making calls,” I explained. “Something felt wrong the moment I left your house yesterday. I’m sorry I didn’t get there sooner. Tell me, in this future you remember, what was my role? Did I ever suspect anything? Did we ever speak like this?”
Vivienne shook her head slowly. “You believed what they told you—that I had willingly stepped aside. You were preparing to marry Clarissa. I was just… background noise. But deep down, I think part of you always knew something was off. That’s why you came today. That’s why you’re here now. The old Roman would have stayed away. This one didn’t.”
“You got there in time,” she said, squeezing my hand tighter. “That’s what matters. But Roman, this isn’t just about the inheritance or the betrothal contract. There’s something bigger. My real mother….”
The door opened. My security chief again, face grim.
“Sir. We have a problem. Clarissa Ashworth is downstairs demanding to see Miss Vivienne. She says she has urgent family news. And she brought the family lawyer… and police.”
Vivienne’s grip tightened painfully.
“Don’t let her in,” she said, voice shaking for the first time. “Roman, please. She’ll finish what she started. She’ll spin some story about me being unstable or delusional. She’s very good at it. She’ll cry and play the worried sister while quietly destroying me. Don’t let her get close.”
I stood, gently disentangling our hands.
“Stay here,” I told her. “This ends now.”
As I reached the door, Vivienne called out desperately.
“Roman…if she mentions the accident, don’t believe her. She already tried once today. She’ll say I’m paranoid or that I caused the crash myself. Please don’t listen. She’s poison wrapped in a pretty smile. Promise me you’ll see through it. Promise me you won’t let her twist this.”
I paused, hand on the knob.
Clarissa’s voice drifted up from the foyer below, concerned, sisterly, perfect.
“Vivienne? Darling, I came as soon as I heard. Are you all right?”
I looked back at the woman in the bed. The woman who had somehow changed everything.
“What do you want me to do?” I asked her.
Vivienne’s eyes hardened with three years of future knowledge and fresh pain.
“Make her choose,” she said. “The truth… or war.”
I stepped into the hallway, heart pounding with decisions I never thought I’d face.
Downstairs, Cl
arissa waited with her lawyer and two uniformed officers.
The real fight had just begun.
Roman's PovShe was still unconscious when we reached my private doctor. The wounds were mostly superficial, cuts, bruises, a mild concussion, but the terror in her eyes before she passed out had been real.I sat in the hallway outside the examination room, staring at the blood on my sleeves. My blood? Hers? I couldn’t tell.My head of security approached quietly. “The two men are in custody. They’re professionals. No IDs, but we’re running prints. One of them mentioned Margaret Ashworth before he shut up.”I nodded. “Keep them isolated. No calls.”“Already done, sir. But they’re not talking much. These guys are trained. Should I bring in our interrogators?”“Not yet,” I replied. “Let them sweat first. I want to know exactly who hired them and how deep this goes. Cross-check with anything we have on the Ashworth family’s known associates.”“Understood. I’ll keep you updated the second we get anything solid. We’ve also secured the crash site. The driver didn’t make it, sir. Single guns
Vivienne's Pov The crash came out of nowhere.One moment we were on the highway, the next a black SUV rammed us from the side. Metal screamed. My head slammed against the window. The world spun, once, twice, then flipped.When everything stopped moving, I was hanging upside down, blood dripping into my eyes.“Miss Ashworth!” the driver groaned. “Are you….”Gunshots. Two quick pops.The driver went silent.I fumbled for the seatbelt with slick fingers. It released and I fell hard onto the crumpled roof. Pain exploded in my shoulder. I crawled through the broken window, glass cutting my palms, and rolled into the ditch.Footsteps approached.I pressed myself into the tall grass, heart thundering. A man’s voice, calm and professional.“Target’s in the vehicle. Confirming now.”Another voice on a radio: “Make it look like an accident. No witnesses.”They were going to check the car. I had seconds.I crawled backward, every movement agony. My vision blurred. The file names flashed through
Vivienne's PovRoman didn’t leave until late that evening. We spoke in careful circles—him pressing for details, me giving him just enough to keep him on my side without revealing everything. I couldn’t afford to sound insane. Time travel. Murder in a future that hadn’t happened yet. No. He needed facts, documents, proof.When his car finally pulled away down the drive, I let out a long breath and leaned against the front door.Margaret was waiting in the sitting room.“Explain yourself,” she said coldly.I walked past her and poured a glass of water I didn’t want. “I think the legal notice explained it quite well.”“You ungrateful little—” She stopped herself, smoothing her skirt. “After everything we’ve done for you.”“Done for me?” I laughed once, sharp and bitter. “You mean stealing my identity? Paying people to forge records? Planning my quiet little removal when I got too close?”Her face didn’t change much, but her knuckles whitened on the arm of the chair. “You’ve been listeni
Roman Pov The contract lay on my desk like evidence from a crime scene.I had read it three times already. The original betrothal agreement between the Ashworth and Steele families clearly named Vivienne, not Clarissa. Signed, sealed, witnessed. My father’s bold signature at the bottom. And yet for three years I had been told it was dissolved. Vivienne had stepped aside willingly because her sister and I were “in love.”Love. What a convenient lie.I picked up the phone again and dialed the Ashworth house. When Clarissa answered, her voice was tight. Good. Let her be uncomfortable.“Put Vivienne on,” I said.A pause. Then Vivienne’s voice came through, quieter than I expected, but steady.“I’m listening.”I leaned back in my chair, staring out at the city skyline. “My legal team pulled the original documents this afternoon. Care to explain why I was never shown this contract?”Silence stretched between us. I waited.“I didn’t know how to tell you,” she finally said. “They made it see
Vivenne's Pov“You’re not my sister.”The words slipped out before I could stop them. Clarissa looked up from her vanity mirror, lipstick paused halfway to her mouth. That same unbothered smile I remembered too well curved her lips, the one she wore right before everything went dark three years from now.“Vivienne, what on earth are you talking about?” she asked lightly, turning back to the mirror. “Of course I’m your sister. Did you have another nightmare?”I stood in the doorway of her bedroom, heart hammering so hard I thought the whole house could hear it. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows of our family estate, catching on the crystal chandelier and making everything look too perfect, too golden. Three years. I had died three years from this moment, pushed out of the way like an inconvenient footnote. And now I was back.I remembered the file. Every page, every seal, every lie. I remembered Margaret—our mother—telling me to step aside because Clarissa had “fallen in love”







