Coffee with Mia proved more difficult than I'd anticipated. She arrived at our usual café looking exactly as I remembered—stylish, energetic, with that slightly envious gleam in her eyes when I described my success with the Blackwood event.

"I can't believe you pulled that off on your own," she said, stirring her latte. "You must have been stressed beyond belief. You should have called me—I would have helped."


In my previous life, I would have agreed, apologized for not including her, and promised to bring her in next time. This time, I simply smiled.

"Sometimes it's easier to execute a vision when you're working alone," I replied. "Especially when establishing a new client relationship."

Her smile faltered slightly. "Well, next time then. We've always talked about building something together, right? Your creativity, my organizational skills—we'd be unstoppable."


There it was—the first step toward the partnership that would eventually lead to my downfall. In my previous life, I'd enthusiastically agreed, flattered by her interest and grateful for the support. This time, I was prepared.

"Actually, I've been thinking about the direction of my business," I said carefully. "I'm focusing on high-end, exclusive events rather than volume. It's a different model than we've discussed before."


"I can adapt," she said quickly. "You know I'm flexible. And with my connections from the gallery, I could bring in some serious clients."

I took a sip of my coffee, buying time. I couldn't push her away too abruptly—that would raise suspicions and potentially turn her into an enemy sooner than necessary. I needed to redirect her ambitions, not block them entirely.

"I have a better idea," I said. "You've always been passionate about art events. Why not specialize in that niche? Build your own brand rather than joining mine. I could refer art-related clients to you, and you could refer corporate events to me."

She frowned, clearly not expecting this suggestion. "But we've always planned to work together."

"And we still can, just as collaborators rather than partners. It gives us both more freedom." I leaned forward, adopting a conspiratorial tone. "Besides, have you seen what happens to friendships when business gets involved? I value our relationship too much to risk it."

This approach—appealing to our friendship while firmly establishing boundaries—worked better than outright rejection. By the end of our coffee, Mia had reluctantly agreed to consider developing her own event planning business focused on art galleries and museums.

As we parted ways, she hugged me tightly. "I'm proud of you, Liv. Just don't forget about me when you're famous, okay?"

The irony of her words wasn't lost on me. In my previous life, she'd made sure I was forgotten entirely.

"Never," I promised, the lie bitter on my tongue.

With Mia temporarily redirected, I turned my attention to my next target: Ethan Hayes. According to my timeline, we would "accidentally" meet in approximately three weeks at a charity gala. This time, I wouldn't wait for fate.

I researched his current cases and discovered he was representing a luxury watch brand in a copyright dispute. Perfect. I contacted the brand's marketing director, pitching an exclusive event to celebrate their heritage of craftsmanship—conveniently timed to generate positive press during their legal battle.

They bit immediately, and I suggested they consult with their legal team about the PR implications. As I'd anticipated, Ethan was assigned to the meeting.

When he walked into the conference room at his father's law firm, I was already seated at the table, reviewing documents with the marketing team. His momentary confusion at seeing me—the woman who had rebuffed him at the restaurant—was quickly masked with professional courtesy.

"Ms. Reed," he said, extending his hand. "I believe we almost met recently."

"Did we?" I replied coolly, shaking his hand briefly. "I don't recall."

The meeting proceeded professionally, with Ethan clearly trying to place where he knew me from while I focused entirely on the client. By the end, I'd secured the contract for the event and, more importantly, positioned myself in Ethan's orbit on my terms.

As we were leaving, he caught up with me in the lobby.

"I never forget a face," he said, flashing the charming smile that had once made my heart race. Now it only made my skin crawl. "Especially one as memorable as yours. The restaurant on Fifth, about two weeks ago?"

I allowed a flicker of recognition to cross my face. "Ah, yes. The man with the coffee. Sorry about that—I was late for another appointment."

"Let me make it up to you," he said smoothly. "Dinner, perhaps? I know an excellent Italian place near your office."

The fact that he knew where my office was—when I hadn't mentioned it—confirmed what I'd always suspected: our "accidental" meeting in my previous life had been carefully orchestrated.

"Thank you, but I make it a policy not to mix business with pleasure," I replied. "Speaking of business, I should get going. I have another meeting."

I walked away, feeling his eyes on my back. In my previous life, I'd fallen for his pursuit, flattered by the attention of someone so successful and charming. This time, I would make him work much harder—and ultimately, it would be his downfall, not mine.

Over the next month, I focused on building my business and my investment portfolio. The Blackwood Hotel events became a regular series, each more successful than the last. James and I developed a professional rapport that occasionally hinted at something more, though I kept those boundaries firmly in place. I couldn't afford distractions, not when my plan was just beginning to unfold.

Ethan, predictably, increased his pursuit. Flowers arrived at my office. He "coincidentally" appeared at industry events I attended. Each time, I was polite but distant, never giving him the satisfaction of an easy conquest.

Mia, meanwhile, had taken my suggestion and begun developing art-focused events, though she frequently asked for my advice and assistance. I provided just enough help to maintain our friendship while ensuring she remained on a separate professional path.

Three months into my second life, my investments began to pay off exactly as expected. The tech stocks I'd selected skyrocketed following a major acquisition announcement. Overnight, my $12,000 investment turned into nearly $100,000. It wasn't the millions I would eventually accumulate, but it was enough to accelerate my plans.

I leased a proper office space—smaller than what I'd had in my previous life, but strategically located in the same building as several potential clients. I hired an assistant—not the one I'd had before, who had been loyal to Mia during the betrayal, but someone new. And I began pursuing the clients who, in my previous timeline, had been game-changers for my business.

The Henderson anniversary party—the event that had originally put me on the map—was still six months away. This time, I approached them with a fully developed concept tailored specifically to their tastes, including elements I knew from my previous life they would love. They signed immediately, impressed by my insight into exactly what they wanted.

As my business grew, I maintained careful records of everything—contracts, communications, financial transactions—with multiple backups stored in locations only I knew about. Never again would I be vulnerable to manipulation of my business documents.

I also began gathering information on Ethan's less ethical business practices. In my previous life, I'd been blind to them, seeing only what I wanted to see. This time, I paid attention to the rumors, the subtle hints, the cases that disappeared mysteriously. Each piece of information was carefully documented and stored away—ammunition for the future.

Six months into my second life, I finally agreed to have dinner with Ethan. Not because his persistence had worn me down, but because it was time to advance to the next phase of my plan.

We met at an upscale restaurant where, I knew, several of his important clients and colleagues often dined. He looked pleased with himself as he pulled out my chair, clearly believing his pursuit had finally succeeded.

"I was beginning to think this day would never come," he said, ordering an expensive bottle of wine without consulting me. "What changed your mind?"

I smiled enigmatically. "Let's just say you've piqued my interest. Professionally speaking, of course."

"Of course," he echoed, though his expression suggested he expected that boundary to blur quickly.

Throughout dinner, I let him talk about himself—his cases, his ambitions, his connections. I played the role of the impressed, slightly intimidated event planner, occasionally dropping hints about my growing client list and recent successes.

"You know," he said as we finished dessert, "my father's firm hosts an annual client appreciation event. It's always been rather... conventional. Perhaps it's time for a fresh approach."

This was the opening I'd been waiting for. In my previous life, planning that event had been my entry into Ethan's world and his father's influential circle. This time, I would use it differently.

"I'd be happy to provide a proposal," I said, maintaining professional distance despite the intimate setting. "My schedule is quite full, but I could make time for a project of that caliber."

His smile widened. "I was hoping you'd say that. Perhaps we could discuss it further over drinks at my place?"

I laughed softly. "Mr. Hayes—"

"Ethan," he corrected.

"Ethan," I acknowledged. "If you're serious about reimagining your firm's event, I'll need to meet with your father and the partners. Otherwise, I'll assume you're more interested in my company than my professional services."

He looked momentarily taken aback by my directness, then laughed. "You're not like most women I meet, Olivia."

"I'll take that as a compliment," I replied, though I knew it wasn't entirely meant as one. Ethan preferred women who were easier to manipulate, who were flattered by his attention and eager to please.

"It is," he assured me. "And you're right—this is a serious business opportunity. I'll set up a meeting with my father next week."

As he walked me to my car, he leaned in for a kiss. I turned my head slightly so his lips grazed my cheek instead.

"Goodnight, Ethan," I said firmly. "Thank you for dinner."

The flash of frustration in his eyes was quickly masked by a confident smile. "This is just the beginning, Olivia. I'm a patient man when something's worth waiting for."

If only he knew what I was patiently waiting for.

As I drove home, I reflected on how differently events were unfolding this time. In my previous life, I'd been smitten with Ethan by our third date, dazzled by his charm and status. This time, I saw through the façade to the calculating ambition beneath. And rather than being his prey, I was positioning myself as the hunter.

My phone buzzed with a text from James Blackwood: "The summer solstice event exceeded projections by 40%. Dinner tomorrow to discuss fall series?"

I smiled to myself. Everything was proceeding according to plan—my business growing, my investments multiplying, my targets exactly where I wanted them. In five years, when the anniversary of my death arrived, I would be ready.

Ready to watch them fall, just as they had watched me.