Wedding planning with the Hayes family proved exactly as calculated as I remembered. Victoria immediately took charge, presenting me with a curated list of "suitable" venues, florists, and caterers—all connected to their social circle, all reflecting their taste rather than mine. In my previous life, I'd been grateful for her guidance, intimidated by the prospect of planning an event that would be scrutinized by Manhattan's elite. This time, I recognized her involvement for what it was: control disguised as assistance.

"The Plaza has been the setting for Hayes family celebrations for generations," she informed me over tea at her club, sliding a folder of images across the table. "The Grand Ballroom would accommodate our guest list perfectly."


"It's beautiful," I acknowledged, "though I was considering something more intimate. Perhaps the Conservatory Garden in Central Park for the ceremony, followed by a reception at a boutique venue."

Her smile tightened almost imperceptibly. "Central Park is lovely for casual gatherings, dear, but hardly appropriate for a Hayes wedding. The guest list alone requires a certain... gravitas."

"The guest list seems to be expanding beyond what Ethan and I initially discussed," I noted, reviewing the spreadsheet she'd provided—over three hundred names, most of whom were business associates and social connections I barely knew.


"A wedding isn't merely a personal celebration," she replied, her tone suggesting she was explaining something obvious. "It's a social and business alliance. The appropriate people must be included."

In my previous life, I'd deferred to her expertise, allowing my own vision to be gradually replaced by hers. This time, I maintained polite resistance—not enough to create conflict, but sufficient to establish that I wouldn't be completely malleable.


"I understand the social implications," I said carefully, "but the ceremony itself should reflect our personal relationship. Perhaps we could compromise—a smaller ceremony followed by a larger reception?"

She studied me for a moment, reassessing. In my previous life, this was when she'd begun to recognize that I might not be as compliant as she'd initially hoped—the first hint of the tension that would eventually lead her to align with Mia against me.

"I'll discuss it with Richard and Ethan," she said finally, which we both knew meant she would present my resistance as problematic rather than reasonable. "Though I should mention that several key business associates from overseas have already been informed of the date. Changing plans now could be... awkward."

The subtle manipulation was familiar—creating circumstances that made my preferences seem not just difficult but potentially damaging to family interests. In my previous life, this approach had effectively silenced my objections. This time, I recognized the tactic but chose my battles carefully.

"I'm sure we can find a solution that honors both tradition and personal meaning," I replied diplomatically.

As wedding preparations continued, Ethan's possessive tendencies intensified exactly as I remembered. He began questioning my continued work with certain clients—particularly those connected to James Blackwood—suggesting that as his fiancée, my business associations should align with family interests.

"The Sinclair Group is directly competing with my father's development in Tribeca," he mentioned casually as we reviewed potential honeymoon destinations one evening. "It creates an awkward position when my future wife is planning their property launch."

"My contract with them predates our engagement," I pointed out. "Professional ethics require me to honor existing commitments."

"Of course," he agreed smoothly. "I'm thinking of future projects. As we build our life together, alignment of interests becomes important."

The implication was clear—after marriage, my business would be expected to serve Hayes family interests rather than compete with them. In my previous life, I'd gradually accepted this limitation, grateful for the steady stream of clients his connections provided and afraid of disappointing him. This time, I recognized it as the beginning of the control that would eventually strip me of my independence.

"My professional reputation is built on integrity and creative independence," I replied. "That value doesn't change with marital status."

His expression hardened momentarily before he forced a smile. "No one's suggesting you compromise your integrity, Olivia. I'm simply pointing out that marriage means considering each other's interests in all decisions. That's partnership."

His definition of partnership—where my business served his family's interests while his career remained untouchable—revealed volumes about how he viewed our relationship. In my previous life, I'd accepted this imbalance, believing it reflected natural differences in our professional standing rather than fundamental inequity.

As the wedding date approached, I maintained my connection with James with increasing difficulty. Our meetings became less frequent, our communication more guarded. The Hayes family's network was extensive, and Ethan had begun casually mentioning seeing me in places I hadn't told him I would be—a clear indication I was being monitored.

"You're taking a significant risk," James observed during one of our rare private dinners, at a small restaurant in Brooklyn far from Manhattan's prying eyes. "The Hayes family doesn't share what they consider theirs."

"I'm not theirs," I replied, though we both knew my engagement suggested otherwise.

He studied me with those perceptive eyes that sometimes seemed to see more than I wanted to reveal. "May I ask you something I have no right to ask?"

When I nodded, he continued, "Do you love him?"

The direct question caught me off guard. In constructing this second life, I'd focused entirely on strategy and revenge, never considering how to address genuine emotional inquiries from someone who had come to matter to me.

"It's complicated," I said finally, which was perhaps the only honest answer I could give. "Ethan and I have a connection that's difficult to explain."

"That's not an answer," he noted quietly.

"It's the only one I have right now," I replied, reaching across the table to take his hand. "This path I'm on... there are reasons for my choices that I can't fully explain."

He turned my hand over, his thumb tracing the vintage engagement ring. "Just be careful, Olivia. The Hayes family destroys what they can't control. And I don't think you're someone who can be controlled for long."

His concern touched me deeply—so different from Ethan's possessive protection or Victoria's calculating guidance. For a moment, I allowed myself to imagine a different path, one where revenge wasn't my driving purpose, where this connection with James could develop without the shadow of my past life's trauma.

But such thoughts were dangerous distractions. I had returned with a mission, and that mission remained unchanged: justice for the woman who had died betrayed and alone on a marble floor.

Three months before the wedding, the cracks in my carefully constructed facade began to appear—exactly as they had in my previous life, though this time I was prepared for them.

The first sign came during a dinner with Mia, who had been increasingly involved in wedding preparations despite my initial attempts to limit her role. Victoria had insisted on including her in key planning meetings, citing her "excellent taste" and "understanding of what would please me." In reality, I knew from my previous life that Victoria was cultivating Mia as an ally, someone who could influence me toward Hayes family preferences.

"The Plaza ballroom design is coming together beautifully," Mia enthused over wine. "Victoria showed me the latest floral concepts. The white orchid installations will be spectacular."

"White orchids?" I questioned, though I knew exactly what had happened. "We discussed garden roses and peonies."

She waved dismissively. "Orchids are more elegant for a winter wedding. Victoria consulted with the designer, and they agreed this direction better suits the Hayes aesthetic. Don't worry, you'll love it."

The casual override of my preferences—presented as a favor rather than a violation—was exactly as I remembered. In my previous life, I'd swallowed my disappointment, not wanting to seem difficult or ungrateful. This time, I maintained my composure while noting this first concrete evidence of Mia's alignment with Victoria against my wishes.

"Interesting that Victoria would consult with the designer without me," I remarked, watching Mia's reaction carefully.

"She was trying to help," Mia defended immediately. "You're so busy with work, and these decisions need to be made quickly to stay on schedule."

"Of course," I nodded, letting it pass for now. "Speaking of work, how's the Bergman Gallery expansion going?"

The subject change visibly relieved her. "Amazing! We're opening the Chicago location next month. Actually, Ethan has been incredibly helpful with some contract issues we encountered with the building lease."

"Ethan?" I raised an eyebrow. "I didn't realize he was involved with your business matters."

She flushed slightly, realizing her slip. "Oh, it was nothing formal. Just friendly advice when I mentioned the problem over lunch last week. He's so knowledgeable about real estate law."

"How fortunate that you have such ready access to his expertise," I commented neutrally, though we both understood the subtext. In my previous life, I'd been oblivious to their increasing private meetings. This time, I was cataloging every instance, building a comprehensive map of their developing alliance.

The second crack appeared during a meeting with the Hayes family attorney to discuss the prenuptial agreement. In my previous life, I'd been intimidated by the process, accepting terms that I later realized significantly disadvantaged me in the event of divorce. This time, I arrived with my own attorney—a sharp, experienced woman specializing in high-net-worth marital contracts.

Richard Hayes's expression when I introduced her was briefly revealing—surprise quickly masked by professional courtesy. He had expected me to rely on their legal team's "guidance," as I had in my previous life.

"Ms. Reed has built a valuable company," my attorney stated as we reviewed the initial draft. "These terms regarding business valuation and potential division are unacceptable. We'll need significant revisions to sections three through seven."

The Hayes attorney—a senior partner at Richard's firm—smiled thinly. "The proposed terms are standard for marriages involving family businesses of the Hayes's stature."

"Perhaps," my attorney countered, "but they fail to recognize that Ms. Reed's business was established and profitable before the engagement. Its value should be protected accordingly."

The negotiation continued for hours, with Richard occasionally interjecting points that my attorney skillfully countered. By the end, the revised agreement was significantly more balanced than the one I'd signed in my previous life—still favoring the Hayes interests, but not completely sacrificing mine.