Isabella POV Today was supposed to be my happiest day. I remembered waking up that morning with a smile on my face. The sun had streamed through my pink curtains, warming my skin. I had stretched in my bed, feeling lighter than I had in years. It was my birthday. My twenty-seventh birthday. And for the first time since my father died, my family was throwing me a party. I had baked my own cake, of course. Three tiers. White frosting. Pink roses. I had decorated the ballroom myself, arranging the white balloons and gold ribbons with careful hands. I had greeted every guest with a genuine smile, relatives I hadn't seen in years, friends who had drifted away, reporters who had come to capture the event. I had believed, in that moment, that I was truly loved. I had been so foolish. "Isa! Isa, come cut your cake!" Sophia's voice had rung out across the ballroom, bright and cheerful. My sister. My younger sister. The one I had grown up with, shared secrets with, loved with my whole heart. She had waved at me from across the room, standing beside the cake I had baked. Her smile had been wide, her eyes sparkling. I stood up from my chair, my heart swelling with happiness. Ethan had squeezed my hand as I passed him, and I had smiled down at him. My husband. My childhood crush. The man I had given up everything for. "I'm coming!" I had called back, my voice light with joy. The guests had turned to watch me. The press had raised their cameras, their flashes bright and blinding. I had felt like a princess, walking toward my throne. I had reached the cake. I had picked up the knife. I had been about to cut the first slice when Sophia's hand had stopped me. "Wait," she had said. I looked at her, confused. "What is it?" She smiled. It was not a kind smile. It was sharp, like a knife. But I did not read the meaning into it. "I have a surprise for you, Isa. I couldn't wait for you to cut your cake. I'm just so excited." I laughed, my heart full of love. "A surprise? What is it?" She had glanced at Ethan. He nodded. Something cold had settled in my stomach, but I had ignored it. I had trusted them. "Go on," I had said, my voice eager. "Show me." Sophia had reached into her purse. She had pulled out a document. A thick, official-looking document. She had held it up for the crowd to see. "This," she had announced, "is a marriage certificate." The room had gone silent. I stared at the paper, uncomprehending. "A marriage certificate?" I had repeated. Sophia nodded. Her smile had widened. "Yes. Mine. And Ethan's." The words had hit me like a physical blow. I stumbled back, my hand flying to my chest. "What?" I whispered. Sophia had stepped closer. She had handed me the document. My hands had been shaking as I had taken it. I had read the names. Sophia Hale. Ethan Carter. Married five years ago. Five years. I had looked up at her, my vision blurring. "This... this is a joke. This has to be a joke." Sophia had shaken her head. "It's not a joke, Isa. It's the truth." I had turned to Ethan. He had been standing beside her, his arms crossed, his face expressionless. "Ethan?" I had pleaded. "Tell them it's a lie. Tell them!" He had looked at me. His eyes had been cold. He had said nothing. Sophia had laughed. She had thrown another document at me. It had hit my chest and fallen to the floor. "That's your marriage certificate," she had said. "The one you've been carrying around like a fool. It's a fraud, Isa. You were never legally married to Ethan." I stared at her, my mouth opening and closing. "What?" "You were never his wife," Sophia had said, her voice dripping with cruelty. "You were the other woman. The side woman. The fool who thought she was loved." The guests had gasped. They had pointed. They whispered. Their eyes had been filled with judgment, with disgust, with delight at my humiliation. I had run to Ethan. I grabbed his arm. I had looked into his eyes, searching for the man I had loved. "Tell them," I begged. "Tell them it's a lie. Please, Ethan. Tell them." He had pushed me away. I had fallen to the floor. My dress had torn. My hands had scraped against the marble. I looked up at him, tears streaming down my face. He had not moved. He had not defended me. He had just stood there, watching me like I was nothing. The room had spun. I had clutched my head, trying to breathe. "And that little boy you thought was Ethan's nephew?" Sophia had continued. "He's ours. Our son. He's three years old." I was frozen. The little boy. The child I had played with. The child I had babysat. The child I had loved. He was their son. "That's why I went away for my 'masters,'" Sophia had said, her voice mocking. "I was giving birth to our child. We hid him from you because we were afraid you would hurt him." "Hurt him?" I had repeated, my voice cracking. "I would never... I loved him..." "You loved him?" Sophia had laughed. "You loved everything about us, didn't you, Isa? You loved Ethan. You loved me. You loved our son. And you never suspected a thing." I had looked at Rebecca. My mother. The woman who had raised me. "Mom?" I whispered. "Tell them. Tell me, it's a prank. Please." She had looked at me. Her eyes had been cold. She had pushed me away. "Don't call me that," she had said. I had fallen again. I had hit the floor hard, my head spinning. "You were never my daughter," Rebecca had said. "The girl who had everything. The girl who was going to inherit it all." I had stared at her, my heart shattering into a million pieces. "So we took it," Rebecca had continued. "We took everything. And you were too stupid to see it." Sophia had stepped forward again. She had placed her hand on her belly once more. "Oh, and Isa?" she had said. "I'm four months pregnant. Ethan's child. Again." I had looked at Ethan. He had not looked at me. He had wrapped his arm around Sophia. He had kissed her cheek. He had held her like she was the one breaking down. The press had snapped their cameras. The flashes had blinded me. I had lain on the floor, in my birthday gown that Sophia had bought me, looking so betrayed. The gown. She had bought me the gown. She had planned this. All of it. From the beginning. I had felt something break inside me. Something I had not known was still intact. Then the world had shaken. It had started as a low rumble. A vibration beneath the floor. Then the building groaned. The windows had shattered. The guest screamed. The apocalypse had begun just like it was stated by the old scientist book of Warden that was read in school then, but no one believed. It was treated as a myth. The guests had fled. They had trampled over each other, pushing and shoving, desperate to escape. They had not looked at me. They had not helped me. Ethan had grabbed Sophia's hand. He had grabbed their son. He had grabbed Rebecca and his sister. He had run toward the exit. He had not looked back. Sophia had looked back. Just once. She glared at me with a look that said, You deserve this. Then they were gone. I had tried to stand. I had tried to run. But my legs had not moved. A brick had fallen from the ceiling. It had landed on my leg. I screamed. The pain had been white-hot. Blinding. I had tried to pull myself free, but the brick had been too heavy. I had tried to crawl, but my leg had been trapped. I screamed for help. I begged. I had pleaded. No one had come. The building had continued to collapse. Dust had filled the air. Debris had fallen around me. I coughed. I choked. I cried. I had remembered my father's words. Trust no one, Isabella. Not Ethan. Not Rebecca. Not Sophia. They are wolves in sheep's clothing. I had remembered my grandmother's words. Don't trust him, Isabella. He will destroy you. They had warned me. They had tried to protect me. But I had not listened. I had been too blind. Too trusting. Too desperate to be loved. The roof had begun to fall. I had looked up at it, my vision blurring. I had made one final birthday wish. If anyone can hear me... This is my last birthday wish. If I have another chance, I will listen this time. I will never betray myself for anyone again. The roof collapsed on me.

Isabella POV I woke up. The first thing I noticed was the light. It was soft and warm, filtering through my pink curtains. The same pink curtains I had seen a thousand times before. The same pink curtains that had hung in my room since I was a child. I blinked. I stared at the ceiling. My ceiling. My room. I didn't move. I couldn't move. My body felt heavy. My mind felt foggy. Something was wrong. I remembered the roof falling. I remembered the darkness swallowing me. I remembered the cold. But I was not cold. I was warm. I was in my bed. I was alive. How? I sat up slowly. My body ached. My head throbbed. I looked around the room, confused. Everything was familiar. My dresser. My bookshelf. My vanity. The photo of my father on my nightstand. The dried flowers from my grandmother's garden hang on the wall. I knew this room. I had grown up in this room. But something felt wrong. I looked down at my hands. They were clean. No blood. No dust. No cuts. I touched my leg. The leg that had been crushed by the pillar. The leg that had been broken. The leg that had been trapped. It was fine. I touched my face. My skin was warm. My heart was beating. I was real. I was alive. But how? I remembered dying. I remembered the weight of the ceiling. I remembered the pain. I remembered the darkness. So how was I here? Was I in heaven? I stood up. My legs were shaky. I grabbed the bedpost to steady myself. I walked to the mirror. The woman staring back at me was me. Isabella. The same face. The same eyes. The same hair. But something was different. My eyes were wider. My face was paler. I looked... alive. I touched my reflection. My fingers met cold glass. I pressed my palm against the mirror. I felt the cool surface against my skin. I was real. I was alive. I looked at the calendar on my wall. The date stared back at me. Fourteen days before my twenty-seventh birthday. I froze. My heart stopped. My breath caught in my throat. My hands began to tremble. Fourteen days. Fourteen days before the party. Fourteen days before the betrayal. Fourteen days before the apocalypse. Fourteen days before I died. I stared at the calendar. The numbers blurred. Tears filled my eyes. I blinked them away. This couldn't be real. This had to be a dream. A nightmare. A trick of my broken mind. I closed my eyes. I counted to ten. I opened them again. The date was still there. Fourteen days before my twenty-seventh birthday. I stumbled backward. I hit the bed and sat down hard. My hands were shaking. My whole body was shaking. I searched for my phone. It was on the nightstand. I grabbed it. I tapped the screen. The date on my phone was the same. Fourteen days before my birthday. The picture on my screen made me freeze. It was a photo of me and Ethan. Our third anniversary. He was smiling. I was smiling. We looked happy. We looked in love. I felt sick. I threw the phone on the bed. It bounced and landed near the pillow. The screen flickered. The photo disappeared. I sat there. My hands gripped the sheets. My knuckles were white. Still in denial, I pinched myself. Hard. "Ow!" I screamed. The pain was sharp. Real. I felt it. I looked at my arm. There was a red mark. A small bruise forming. It was real. I was real. This was real. I had returned. I had returned exactly fourteen days before the apocalypse. Fourteen days before the betrayal. Fourteen days before my death. The second chance came with my last life memory. Everything. The cake. The documents. Sophia's cruel smile. Ethan's cold eyes. The pillar on my leg. The roof falling. My death. I remembered all of it. I stood up again. I walked to the window. I pulled back the curtain. The city stretched out before me. Tall buildings. Busy streets. People rushing to their jobs. The sun reflected off the glass towers, making the whole world sparkle. It was the same city. The same world. But it was not the same. I remembered. I remembered the cake. The three tiers. The white frosting. The pink roses I had piped by hand. I remembered the ballroom. The white roses. The gold balloons. The banner that read "Happy 27th Birthday, Isabella!" I remembered Sophia's smile. The way she had looked at me. The way her eyes had sparkled with cruelty. I remembered the documents. The marriage certificate. The fraud. I remembered Ethan's face. The way he had smirked. The way he had watched me crumble. I remembered the pillar. The weight on my leg. The pain. I remembered the roof. The darkness. My death. I remembered everything. I realized I knew something nobody else knew. The world was about to end. I remembered my wish. My final birthday wish. If anyone can hear me... This is my last birthday wish. If I have another chance, I will listen this time. I will never betray myself for anyone again. The roof had fallen. I had died. But my wish had been heard. I fell to my knees. The floor was cold against my skin. I didn't care. I laughed. It was a broken sound. A desperate sound. A sound that came from somewhere deep inside me. I cried. The tears streamed down my face. They dripped onto the floor. They pooled beneath my hands. I was alive. I had been given a second chance. I don't know how long I stayed there. Minutes. Hours. Time didn't matter. When I finally stopped crying, I felt empty. Hollow. But also... something else. Something hard. Something cold. Something that had not been there before. I stood up. I wiped my tears with the back of my hand. I looked at my reflection one more time. The woman in the mirror looked back at me. She was not the same woman who had baked her own birthday cake. She was not the same woman who had trusted everyone around her. She was not the same woman who had died on the floor of a collapsing building. She was someone else. She was someone who remembered. "Never again," I whispered. My voice was hoarse. My throat was raw. But the words were clear. "Never again." I will never betray myself again. I walked out of the room. Time to get this dice rolling.

Isabella POV I walked out of my room. The hallway was quiet. The house was still. I could hear the soft hum of the air conditioner. The distant sound of birds outside. The ticking of the grandfather clock downstairs. Normal sounds. Peaceful sounds. But I knew the truth. The world was ending. I walked down the stairs. My hand trailed along the railing. The wood was smooth beneath my fingers. Familiar. I reached the bottom and stopped. The living room was empty. The kitchen was empty. The whole house was empty. I was alone. Good. I needed to think. I needed to plan. I needed to prepare. I had fourteen days. Fourteen days to change everything. I walked to the kitchen. My bare feet padded against the cold marble floor. I poured myself a glass of water. I drank it slowly. My hands were still trembling. I set the glass down and looked out the window. The city stretched out before me. Tall buildings. Busy streets. People rushing to their jobs. They had no idea what was coming. They had no idea that in fourteen days, their world would end. But I knew. I knew because I had lived it. I had died in it. I turned away from the window. My thoughts were interrupted by a voice. "Isabella?" I froze. I knew that voice. I loved that voice. I had trusted that voice. I turned around slowly. Ethan stood in the doorway. He was wearing a white shirt. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. His hair was perfectly styled. His smile was perfectly warm. He looked handsome. He always looked handsome. But now, I saw him differently. I saw the coldness behind his eyes. I saw the calculation in his smile. I saw the betrayal walking around in human form. "Good morning," he said. His voice was soft. Gentle. The voice he used when he wanted something. I forced myself to smile. "Good morning, Ethan." He walked toward me. His steps were casual. Relaxed. He had no idea that I knew everything. He had no idea that I had watched him leave me to die. He stopped in front of me. He reached out and touched my cheek. I wanted to flinch. I wanted to pull away. I wanted to scream. But I didn't. I stayed still. I kept smiling. "How are you feeling?" he asked. "Your birthday is coming up. Are you excited?" I nodded. "Very excited." He smiled. "Sophia has been planning everything. She wants it to be perfect for you." Of course she does. "I'm sure it will be," I said. He dropped his hand. He walked to the counter and poured himself a cup of coffee. He moved around the kitchen like he owned it. He did own it. In my first life, I had given him everything. But not this time. "So," he said, taking a sip of his coffee. "I was thinking of taking Sophia out today." I raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" He nodded. "She picked out a dress for your party, but she doesn't like it. You know how she gets." I knew exactly how. In my first life, I would have smiled. I would have told him to go. I would have even offered to console Sophia myself. But that was the old Isabella. The one who trusted. The one who died. This Isabella was different. "Thank you for caring for my sister," I said. The words tasted like poison on my tongue. He smiled. "Of course. She's family." Family. I almost laughed. "Please," I continued, "make sure she gets her favorite gown. And her favorite color." His smile widened. "You're so thoughtful, Isabella." I nodded. "I try." He set down his coffee and walked toward me. He leaned in to kiss my forehead. I flinched. It was small. Barely noticeable. But he noticed. He pulled back. His brow furrowed. "What happened?" he asked. His voice was concerned. But his eyes were sharp. Calculating. I forced myself to relax. I forced myself to smile. "Nothing," I said. "I just... I have a surprise for you." His eyebrow rose. "A surprise?" I nodded. "For my birthday. I want it to be special." He studied me for a moment. Then he smiled. "I love surprises," he said. I knew he did. "I know," I said. He leaned in again. This time, I didn't flinch. I let him kiss my forehead. His lips were warm. But they felt cold to me. "I'll see you later," he said. He grabbed his keys and walked out the door. I stood there. I didn't move. I didn't breathe. When the door closed, I let out a long breath. My hands were shaking. I gripped the counter. I closed my eyes. He was exactly the same. Self-centered. Always siding with Sophia. Even when I was his wife. In my past life, I saw it as caring. I thought he was trying to show his love for me through my sister and mother. I thought he was being kind. But now I saw the truth. Every moment. Every word. Every gesture. It was all a performance. He never loved me. He loved what I could give him. And now, I saw him for what he truly was. A betrayal walking around in human form. I opened my eyes. I looked out the window. The sun was rising. The city was waking up. I had fourteen days. And I would use every single one of them. I walked out of the kitchen. I walked to my father's study. The door was locked. I knew where the key was. I had watched my father hide it a hundred times. Behind the painting. The one of the mountains. I moved the painting. The key was there. Small. Brass. Cold. I unlocked the door and stepped inside. The study smelled like old books and leather. My father's scent. I closed my eyes and breathed it in. When I opened them, I felt stronger. I walked to his desk. I ran my fingers along the wood. I remembered sitting on his lap while he worked. I remembered him teaching me about the company. I remembered him telling me to trust myself. "You are stronger than you know, Isabella. But you must learn not to trust." I hadn't listened. I will listen now and I will make them pay. I opened the drawer. I found the safe. I entered the code. My father's birthday. The safe clicked open. Inside, there was a document. Before I could pull it out. I heard footsteps behind me. I quickly closed the drawer. "Isabella?" I turned. Rebecca stood in the doorway. My stepmother. Her hair was perfect. Her clothes were expensive. Her smile was warm. But I saw the truth now. I saw the coldness behind her eyes. I saw the calculation in her gaze. "Good morning, Mother," I said. My voice was calm. My face was blank. She blinked. "You're up early. I thought you would be sleeping." I smiled. It didn't reach my eyes. "I have a lot to do," I said. She tilted her head. "Like what?" I held up some old document that was not important, praying silently that she doesn't come near me. "Just some old papers," I said. "Nothing important." She stopped. Her eyes flickered to the document. Then back to me. "Is that your father's?" she asked. I nodded. "I was looking through his things. I miss him." Her expression softened. "We all do, dear." I wanted to scream. I wanted to throw the document in her face. I wanted to tell her I knew everything. But I didn't. I smiled. I nodded. I played the part. "I should get ready," I said. "Sophia wants to go shopping for the party." Then I closed the drawer. Thanking God that she did come close to me. Rebecca's eyes lit up. "Of course. You should spend time with your sister." My sister. The word tasted like poison. "I will," I said. I walked past her. I didn't look back. But she followed me out. Perfect. I had work to do. Surprisingly, I saw Sophia in the living room. She was sitting on the couch, scrolling through her phone. Her hair was perfect. Her makeup was flawless. She looked up when I entered. "Isabella!" she squealed. "There you are! I was thinking we could go to that new boutique. The one with the dresses from Paris." I smiled. "Sounds perfect. But I thought you left with Ethan. " She stood up and grabbed her purse. "No. I'm so excited for your party. So I told him that we would meet him on the way. It's going to be amazing." I nodded. "I'm sure it will be." I cringed. I have work to do, not this. She linked her arm through mine. Her touch made my skin crawl. "You deserve it," she said. "You're my sister. I want you to be happy." I looked at her. Her eyes were bright. Her smile was wide. She was a good actress. I was better. "Thank you, Sophia," I said. "You're so kind." She beamed. We walked out the door together. The sun was warm on my face. The city was alive around us. People were laughing. Cars were honking. Music was playing from a nearby store. It was a beautiful day. But I knew the truth. In fourteen days, this would all be gone. I had fourteen days. And I would use every single one of them. I quickly sent a text to my lawyer.