Part 2The Heiress Knew I Was Back

I thought by avoiding the beginning of the entanglement, everything would change.

But a month later, Owen burst into my studio. His face was lit up with the flush and shyness of a boy in love. He grabbed my hand.

“Ash, I’m in a relationship!”

A cold, heavy dread settled in my stomach. I managed a strained smile.

“Oh… right? Congratulations.”

“Guess who it is!”

He winked playfully, not waiting for my answer, and announced the news with pure bliss:

“It’s Sloan Maxwell! She asked me out. We’re officially together.”

I didn't hear a word Owen said after that. My head was ringing. I almost laughed at the pathetic fool I’d been in the last life. I thought I had brought him into her life.

It turned out they were destined. Whether I was there or not, they would find each other. They were the perfect pair. I was the inconvenient, extra obstacle.

“Ash? Ash, what’s wrong?”

Owen’s voice jolted me back. I realized my face was wet, tears streaming down my cheeks. I quickly wiped them away, forcing a smile that felt worse than a grimace.

“Nothing. I… I’m just so happy for you.”

My purpose this time was to let them have their happiness and keep myself out of the vortex. This was enough. They had nothing to do with me.

From that day on, they were inseparable. They walked the campus hand-in-hand. But Owen, still clinging to the habit of our old friendship, always wanted to bring me along. I had to invent excuse after excuse to refuse.

Then, he found me one night.

“Ash, Sloan’s friends are throwing a party tonight at The Gilded Room. You have to come with me. It’s my first time meeting so many of her people, and I’m a little nervous.”

I instinctively shook my head.

“Owen, I can’t…”

“Please, Ash, my best friend.” He tugged my arm, looking at me with soft, dependent eyes. “You’re my anchor. If you don’t go, who will I talk to? Just come and keep me company, okay?”

“…Okay.”

The word was a struggle to breathe out, but I couldn't resist his earnest plea.

I arrived with Owen at The Gilded Room right on time. The private lounge was opulent, filled with laughter, expensive clothes, and the clinking of glasses. Sloan and her friends were already there.

The moment Owen saw her, he became a happy magnet, rushing to sit in the seat next to her.

“Sloan, this is my friend, Ash Reed.”

Sloan gave me a brief, dismissive nod, looking through me as if I were a complete stranger. I finally relaxed a fraction, choosing a seat as far away from them as possible, trying to disappear.

The dinner was a refined Western affair. A plate of seared foie gras with black truffle was served. Owen reached for his cutlery, but Sloan stopped him with a slight frown. Without a word, she subtly signaled the waiter.

“He doesn’t eat organ meat. Replace that with the filet mignon.”

Owen looked up at her, delighted. “Sloan, you remembered that?”

Sloan simply reached out and gently ran her fingers through his hair. She accepted the steak, meticulously cut it into bite-sized pieces, and placed the plate back in front of Owen. Not skilled with a knife and fork, he smiled gratefully and began to eat.

I silently sliced my own foie gras, a bitter taste rising in my throat. I was severely allergic to shellfish, but in the previous life, Sloan had only watched the red welts rise on my neck after I'd accidentally eaten shrimp and mocked me: “Asher Reed, you truly are precious.”

Love and indifference were always so clear. Only the previous me was blind enough to miss it, becoming a sacrificial lamb to their romance.

The dinner was half over, and I needed to escape. I stood up and leaned over to Owen.

“I think I’ve had a little too much to drink. I have a headache. I’m going to get some air.”

Owen stood up, immediately trying to steady me. “Ash, I’ll come with you.”

I quickly waved him off, telling him to stay and enjoy himself, planning to slip out and head back to campus.

But as I turned, I noticed Sloan’s right thumb. She was unconsciously stroking her ring finger.

That was a nervous habit she’d developed after she put on her wedding ring in the last life.

Did she remember? Did she come back, too?

A cold wave of terror hit me. If she was back, would she let me go this time?

I didn’t dare think about it, sprinting out of the lounge and into the elevator.

Just as the doors began to slide shut, a slender, pale hand shot out, blocking the mechanism.

Sloan stood in the doorway, her gaze fixed on me. Gone was the cool, gentle demeanor she showed Owen. This was the dark, predatory look of my contract wife from the last life.

I backed up until I slammed against the cold steel of the elevator car.

“Ms. Maxwell… I truly don’t feel well. I… I need to go home.”

She grabbed my wrist in a crushing grip, locking me in place. The raw, desperate memory of her breaking my arm in a moment of grief-fueled rage—and then having it reset—sent a tidal wave of fear through me. I struggled wildly.

“Let me go! Sloan, let me go!”

She didn't release me. Her bottomless black eyes swirled with an emotion I couldn't decipher.

“Asher Reed. You came back too, didn't you?”