Chapter 3: The First Test

Anya's POV

I stood in front of the bathroom sink, splashing cold water onto my face over and over again. The icy drops helped clear the remaining fog from my mind. Every time I looked up at the mirror, I had to remind myself that this was real.

I was twenty-three again. I was safe in my old bedroom. The nightmare of my death hadn't happened yet, and I had the power to make sure it never would.

After drying my face, I walked over to my closet. In my past life, around this time, I always wore soft, pastel dresses. I used to choose outfits that made me look sweet, gentle, and obedient—exactly the kind of woman Leo claimed to love. I had molded myself into a decoration, smoothing down my own edges just to fit his perfect image of a wife.

"Never again," I whispered.

I pushed past the pink and baby blue fabrics, my eyes searching for something different. I pulled out a sharp, dark green silk blouse and a pair of high-waisted black trousers. It was a smart, commanding look. It wasn't the outfit of a naive girl waiting to be led; it was the armor of a woman ready for war.

As I brushed out my long dark hair, a soft knock came from the bedroom door.

"Miss Anya?" the voice of our old maid, Martha, called out from the hallway. "Madam is waiting for you downstairs. Breakfast is ready."

Hearing Martha’s voice brought a sudden ache to my chest. Martha had been loyal to me, but Leo had fired her shortly after our wedding, replacing her with staff who were loyal only to him. Now I knew why—he had wanted to cut me off from anyone who actually cared about my well-being.

"Thank you, Martha. I'll be right down," I replied, keeping my voice calm.

I took one deep breath, squared my shoulders, and opened the door.

Walking down the grand hallway of the Brooks family mansion, my heart rate began to climb. When I reached the top of the wide staircase, a sudden wave of dizziness hit me. I froze, my hand gripping the wooden banister so tightly my knuckles turned white.

Flashes of the penthouse stairs bombarded my mind. The feeling of falling backward. The crushing pain as my bones snapped against the hard stone. Leo and Chloe standing above me, watching me bleed out with cold, indifferent eyes.

I closed my eyes and forced myself to take slow, deep breaths. *This is not that staircase. You are alive. They cannot hurt you anymore.*

When I opened my eyes, the panic had faded, replaced by a cold, hard focus. I walked down the steps, one by one, making sure my footsteps were steady and deliberate.

The dining room was flooded with bright morning sunlight. The long mahogany table was laid out with a massive breakfast feast—freshly baked pastries, imported fruits, and freshly brewed coffee.

Sitting at the head of the table was my mother, Helen Brooks. She looked as elegant as ever, her perfectly styled blonde hair without a single strand out of place. She was sipping her tea, glancing over a fashion magazine.

When she heard my footsteps, she looked up. A slight frown marred her flawless face as she scanned my outfit.

"Good morning, Anya," she said, her voice smooth but laced with disapproval. "You’re late. And what are you wearing? Green and black? You look so severe today, darling. You’re supposed to be shopping for your wedding veil later. You should be wearing something bright and joyful, like that lovely pink dress I bought you."

In my past life, a comment like this would have sent me scrambling upstairs to change, desperate to please her. I used to think my mother just wanted me to look my best because she loved me.

But now, I saw the truth. It wasn't love. It was control. She wanted me to look innocent and malleable because it fit the image she wanted to sell to high society.

"Good morning, Mother," I said smoothly, taking a seat opposite her. I poured myself a cup of black coffee, skipping the sugar and cream entirely. "I felt like wearing something different today. Change is good, don't you think?"

Helen raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, clearly surprised by my calm defiance, but she quickly masked it and set her teacup down.

"Well, I suppose it doesn't matter too much today," Helen said, a sharp, knowing spark appearing in her eyes. "But you really should smile more, Anya. Leo called the house earlier. He wanted to check on you, but you were still asleep. He is such a thoughtful man."

The mention of his name turned my stomach, but I kept my face completely blank.

"Is he?" I murmured, taking a slow sip of the bitter coffee.

"Of course he is!" Helen said, her voice growing more animated as she leaned forward. "He told me he’s been working late every single night at the office to ensure everything is perfect before the wedding. He’s taking on so much responsibility for Brooks Enterprises. Your father is exceedingly pleased with him. You are incredibly lucky, Anya. A handsome, hardworking man like Leo doesn't come around often. You must make sure you support him completely and don't burden him with silly demands."

I stared at my mother, watching the way her eyes lit up as she praised him.

She didn't see a loving mother rejoicing in her daughter's happiness. She saw a calculating strategist securing a dedicated workhorse for the family business. She was planting the seeds, conditioning me to be the quiet, supportive wife so Leo could freely climb the corporate ladder and elevate the Brooks name.

"Leo certainly is focused on his career," I replied, my voice cool and distant. I didn't smile. I didn't blush.

Helen blinked, sensing the lack of enthusiasm. "Anya, what is wrong with you today? You sound so cold. This is the man you are marrying in a month! You should be glowing."

"I am just thinking, Mother," I said, picking up a strawberry and looking at it idly. "Thinking about how much Leo stands to gain by marrying into our family. After all, he came from nothing. Without Father's support and my family's shares, he would just be another junior employee."

Helen’s face froze. For a split second, a flash of genuine anger crossed her features before she buried it under a forced laugh.

"What a strange thing to say, darling. Leo loves you. And besides, it’s a perfect arrangement. He gets a beautiful wife and a great career, and our family gets a loyal man to help run the company. It’s a win-win. We must think about the family's future, Anya. Everything we do is for the Brooks name."

*The family's future,* I thought bitterly. *Not my future. Not my happiness.*

I looked around the grand dining room, seeing my family home with completely new eyes. Before I died, I thought this house was full of warmth and love. Now, I saw it for what it truly was—a gilded cage built on greed, appearances, and selfish ambition.

My mother didn't see me as a daughter; she saw me as a bargaining chip. My father, who wasn't even here for breakfast because the company always came first, saw me the exact same way. And Chloe... Chloe saw me as a roadblock to her own greedy desires.

Everyone in this house was looking out for themselves, driven by their own hidden agendas. I had been the only fool, giving my unconditional love and trust to people who would gladly step over my dead body to protect their wealth.

"You're right, Mother," I said, a slow, chilly smile finally appearing on my face as I set my coffee cup down. "We must absolutely think about the future. And I promise you, I am going to start looking at everything very, very clearly."

Helen smiled, completely missing the dark threat beneath my words, satisfied that she had steered her daughter back on course. But she had no idea that the obedient Anya she knew was dead.

I took another sip of my black coffee, my mind already spinning. If Leo was playing the devoted fiancé today, I would have to play the blissful bride-to-be. But behind the veil, I was sharpening my knives. And the first cut was going to hurt.