Sophia stood in the center of my father's studio, surrounded by destroyed paintings and sculptures. She looked haggard and deranged, with a hatred in her eyes I had never seen before.

"Sophia," I said slowly, keeping my voice calm. "What are you doing?"


"Correcting mistakes," she hissed. "You ruined everything! You ruined my life!"

I carefully took a step forward. "I know you're in pain, but this isn't the solution."

"Shut up!" she screamed, grabbing a carving knife. "You don't know what I've been through! At that boarding school, everyone knew who I was, knew what my mother did. They called me 'the madwoman's daughter'!"


My heart ached with sympathy. Despite how Sophia had hurt me, she too was Victoria's victim.

"I'm sorry," I said sincerely. "But this isn't my fault. It was Victoria's choices that led to all this."


"No!" Sophia shook her head. "If you hadn't come back, if you hadn't started asking questions, everything would have been fine!"

She raised her knife and charged at me. I quickly dodged, but her blade grazed my arm, leaving a shallow wound.

At that moment, Alexander rushed into the room and quickly restrained Sophia. She struggled and screamed, but his strength far exceeded hers.

"Enough, Sophia," he said coldly. "You've done enough."

The police arrived shortly and took Sophia away. A doctor examined my wound, confirming it was only superficial and didn't require stitches.

But the psychological damage was deeper. Seeing Sophia so broken, so full of hatred, made me realize how far-reaching Victoria's poisoning had been.

"She needs help," I said to Alexander as we sat in the hospital waiting room. "Professional psychological help."

Alexander nodded. "I'll make sure she gets the best treatment."

I looked at him in surprise. "You will?"

"Yes," he said simply. "Because you care about her, despite how she hurt you. It speaks volumes about what kind of person you are, Ella."

I felt a warmth surge through me. This Alexander was so different from the person I knew in my previous life. Or perhaps, he had always been this way, and I had just never truly seen it.

In the days following the Sophia incident, the media went wild again about the "curse" of the Haston family. Reporters camped outside my home, hoping to capture any dramatic moments.

My father's health deteriorated due to the stress, and doctors advised him to get away from it all.

"You should go on vacation," Alexander suggested during a dinner. "I have a villa in Tuscany, Italy. It's quiet, private, an ideal place for recovery."

My father and mother exchanged a glance, then nodded. "That sounds nice," my father said. "But what about Ella?"

"I'll stay here," I said firmly. "Someone needs to handle things here and ensure the company continues to operate."

"You can't stay here alone," my mother said worriedly. "The reporters will eat you alive."

Alexander cleared his throat. "About that... I have a proposition."

We all turned to him.

"Ella could move into my apartment," he said. "As my... wife."

The room fell silent.

"What?" I finally asked, certain I had misheard.

"A temporary arrangement," Alexander quickly explained. "A business marriage, if you want to call it that. It would provide you with protection and privacy, while also giving the media something new to focus on, diverting their attention away from your parents."

My father frowned. "You're suggesting my daughter marry you as some sort of... PR strategy?"

Alexander looked him straight in the eyes. "I'm offering protection and support. I respect Ella, and I won't let anyone hurt her."

I considered the proposition. In my past life, I married Alexander because I was forced to, because of pregnancy, because of family pressure. But this time, it was a choice, a strategy.

"I need to think about it," I said.

Alexander nodded. "Of course."

That evening, my parents and I had a long talk.

"You don't have to do this," my mother insisted. "We can find other ways."

"But this is the most effective method," I said. "Alexander's name and influence will protect all of us. Besides, it's only temporary."

My father sighed. "I just want you to be happy, Ella."

"I know, Dad," I said with a smile. "This is my choice. My decision."

The next day, I told Alexander that I accepted his proposal.

"Are you sure?" he asked, with concern in his eyes.

"Yes," I said firmly. "But I have conditions."

"What conditions?"

"This is a business arrangement," I said. "We will each have our own space and freedom. No... expectations."

Alexander's expression became inscrutable. "If that's what you want."

"It's the best way," I insisted, although part of me was questioning this point.

A week later, we got married in a private ceremony with only my parents and Oliver as witnesses. No media, no big celebration, just simple vows and exchanged rings.

When Alexander slid the ring onto my finger, I felt a strange sense of familiarity. In my past life, this moment had been filled with fear and uncertainty. But this time, despite it being a business arrangement, I felt a strange calmness.

"I, Alexander Blake, take you, Ella Haston, to be my wife," he said, his voice deep and firm.

"I, Ella Haston, take you, Alexander Blake, to be my husband," I responded, my voice more steady than I had expected.

When the ceremony ended, Alexander gently kissed my lips, a chaste and brief kiss. But in that moment, I felt a current run through my body, a reaction I had never anticipated.

Our marriage might be for convenience, for protection, but I'm starting to wonder if it might become something more.