Chapter 4: An Unexpected Encounter

Anya's POV

After leaving the breakfast table, I didn't waste a single second. I grabbed my purse, got into my car, and drove straight into the heart of the city.

For the past five years—in my previous life—I had let a personal driver take me everywhere. Leo had insisted on it, claiming he wanted me safe and spoiled. In reality, he had just wanted to track my every move.

Feeling the leather steering wheel beneath my fingers now felt like a small taste of freedom. I was back in control.

I headed to the premium commercial district, a stretch of tall glass buildings and exclusive luxury boutiques. This was where the city's elite spent their fortunes, and it was where the plans for my nightmare wedding were being finalized.

If I wanted to stop the wedding, I had to do it smartly. I couldn't just walk up to my father and tell him Leo was a monster who would murder me in five years. They would think I had lost my mind. They would lock me away in a psychiatric ward, and Leo would use my "breakdown" to play the victim and seize even more control over the company.

No, I had to dismantle the wedding piece by piece. I had to make the relationship look like it was naturally falling apart, while secretly trapping Leo in a net he couldn't escape.

I parked in front of *Maison de L'Amour*, the most exclusive bridal boutique in the city. This was where my mother had ordered my couture gown and handmade lace veil. In my past life, I had spent hours here, smiling like a fool, trying on dresses while Chloe secretly snapped photos to send to Leo. I had been so desperate to please everyone.

This time, I walked through the glass doors with a face of ice.

The shop was stunning, filled with soft classical music, white roses, and rows of glittering gowns under crystal chandeliers. The air smelled of peonies and expensive champagne.

"Miss Brooks!" A young sales assistant named Sarah immediately rushed over, her face lighting up with a professional smile. "Welcome back! We weren't expecting you until this afternoon. Your mother called and said you were coming to check the final adjustments for your veil. It arrived from Paris just this morning!"

"Good morning, Sarah," I said, my voice calm and utterly devoid of the excitement she was expecting. "I need to speak with the head designer and the shop manager. Immediately."

Sarah blinked, her smile faltering at my clipped tone. "Oh, of course. Is there an issue with the gown? We can make any alterations you need—"

"Just get the manager, please," I interrupted, keeping my eyes fixed on her.

Sensing the shift in my demeanor, Sarah quickly nodded and hurried toward the back offices.

I stood in the center of the shop, staring at a mannequin wearing a beautiful, flowing white dress. It looked so innocent. A dream. But to me, it was a shroud. It was the garment I had worn when I walked blindly into my own grave.

A few moments later, the shop manager, Eleanor—a middle-aged woman who always wore impeccable tailored suits—emerged with a warm, practiced smile.

"Miss Brooks, what a pleasure," Eleanor said, clutching a clipboard. "Sarah mentioned you wanted to discuss the alterations. Please, come into the VIP room. We can pour you some tea—"

"There won't be any need for tea, Eleanor," I said, stepping directly to her desk. I didn't want to sit. I wanted to do what I came here to do. "I am here to issue a direct order regarding my bridal account."

"Of course, anything you need," Eleanor said, pulling out a pen.

"I want all work on my wedding dress and veil stopped immediately," I stated clearly. "All sewing, alterations, and shipping of any related items are to be put on hold, effective right now."

Eleanor froze. The pen hovered over her clipboard. She looked up at me, her eyes wide with shock. "I... I beg your pardon, Miss Brooks? Put a hold on it? But the wedding is only a month away. If we stop work now, we won't be able to finish it in time. Your mother was very specific about the timeline."

"My mother did not pay the down payment for this dress, Eleanor. I did," I reminded her coldly.

It was true. While my mother had chosen the shop, the funds had come directly from my personal trust fund. I was an adult, and the account was in my name.

"If I say stop, you stop," I continued, leaning slightly over the desk. My voice was quiet, but it carried a razor-sharp edge that made Eleanor take a step back. "You will tell my mother that there was a technical issue with the fabric or a customs delay at the border. You will *not* tell her that I ordered this hold. If a single word about this conversation gets back to my family or to Leo Harrison, I will pull every Brooks family account from this shop and ensure none of our associates ever step foot in here again. Do I make myself clear?"

Eleanor swallowed hard. The Brooks family was one of their highest-paying clients. Losing our business would be a devastating blow to their reputation.

"I... I understand, Miss Brooks," Eleanor whispered, nodding quickly. "I will place a temporary hold on the order immediately. We will list it as a shipping delay in our system."

"Thank you. I appreciate your discretion," I said.

I turned on my heel and walked out, feeling a strange, thrilling sense of satisfaction. It was the first brick. I had just pried loose the first stone from the wall of Leo’s perfect future. Without a dress, the timeline would crumble.

I pushed open the heavy glass doors and stepped out onto the busy sidewalk. I was so caught up in my own head, mapping out my next move, that I wasn't paying attention to my surroundings.

I took two steps forward and collided directly with a solid wall of muscle.

The impact was jarring. Because I was wearing high heels, I immediately lost my balance. My purse slipped from my hand, and I felt myself pitching backward toward the unforgiving concrete.

But before I could hit the ground, a powerful hand shot out and wrapped around my waist.

The grip was like iron, catching me effortlessly and pulling me upright with a strength that left no room for argument. I gasped, my hands instinctively reaching out to steady myself. My palms landed flat against the expensive, dark grey fabric of a bespoke suit jacket. Beneath the fine wool, I could feel the rigid, sculpted muscles of a man's chest.

A rich, intoxicating scent washed over me—sandalwood, expensive tobacco, and the crisp hint of rain.

"Are you alright?" a deep, smooth voice asked. The tone was low, but it carried a natural, chilling authority that sent a shiver racing down my spine.

I looked up, my breath catching in my throat.

Standing in front of me was a man who looked like he had been carved from marble. He was incredibly tall, towering over me easily. His hair was jet-black, styled flawlessly away from a face that was all sharp angles—a noble jawline and cheekbones that could cut glass. But it was his eyes that pinned me in place. They were a piercing, icy grey, striking against his dark lashes.

My heart skipped a beat as recognition slammed into me.

Julian Sterling.

The elusive, ruthless CEO of the Sterling Group. In the business world, his name was spoken with a mixture of awe and terror. He was the most powerful billionaire in the city, a man who crushed his rivals without a drop of mercy. He was completely untouchable. In my past life, Leo had spent years groveling for just a five-minute meeting with Julian, desperate for the Sterling Group to invest in Brooks Enterprises. Julian had never even acknowledged his existence.

And now, here he was, holding me by the waist on a public sidewalk.

Two large, imposing bodyguards in black suits immediately stepped forward, but Julian raised a single, lazy hand. They halted instantly, melting back into the background.

"I'm sorry," I managed, my voice steadier than I felt as I quickly stepped out of his grip. I smoothed down my green silk blouse, forcing my composure back into place. "I wasn't looking where I was going."

Julian didn't move. His icy grey eyes locked onto my face with a focus that was deeply unsettling.

He didn't look at me the way ordinary men did. There was no casual appreciation of my appearance. Instead, his gaze was sharp, analytical—like a predator that had just spotted something highly unusual in its territory. It felt like he was stripping away my expensive clothes and my calm facade, looking straight into the dark, vengeful soul underneath.

"Anya Brooks," Julian murmured. His deep voice rolled over my name slowly, as if he were tasting it.

A jolt of surprise went through me. The great Julian Sterling knew who I was? In 2021, I was just a quiet heiress who stayed out of the business pages. There was no reason for a man of his caliber to know my name.

"You know me, Mr. Sterling?" I asked, raising my chin slightly, refusing to be intimidated by his overwhelming presence.

Julian didn't answer right away. He stepped a fraction closer, his tall shadow completely enveloping mine. The intensity in his grey eyes deepened, a dark, unreadable spark flickering in their depths as he studied the fierce, cold defiance in my face.

"I know of you," Julian said softly, his lips curving into a faint, dangerous smile that didn't reach his eyes. "But the rumors about the Brooks family's obedient little daughter seem to be entirely wrong."