My Reborn Fiancé Has A Dark Obsession with Me

I stood before the full-length mirror in my apartment, my hands trembling as I smoothed the silk fabric of my engagement dress. The pale blue material felt foreign against my skin, despite having chosen it myself weeks ago.

Everything about this moment should have felt like a dream come true, yet my chest tightened with each breath.

The memories crashed over me like ice water—Elena's cold voice echoing through that opulent drawing room, announcing my fate as if I were livestock being traded.

"You will marry Lachlan Mills. The arrangement has been finalized."

I could still feel the weight of that gilded cage, the suffocating helplessness as I was forced into a union that would destroy me piece by piece.

I pressed my palms against the cool glass, watching my reflection blur through unshed tears.

In my past life, I had worn white on my wedding day—a mockery of purity when I was nothing but a pawn in Elena's power games.

Lachlan had barely looked at me during the ceremony, his jaw set with resentment, his eyes already searching the crowd for her.

For Sophia.

The phantom pain of old humiliations burned in my chest. I remembered standing in the corner of countless social gatherings, watching him laugh with Sophia while I pretended not to notice the pitying glances from other wives.

The way he would introduce me as "my wife" with the same enthusiasm one might use to mention a piece of furniture.

The night Sophia had hurled that wine bottle at me over a simple emerald bracelet, and Lachlan—my own husband—had immediately taken her side, accusing me of provoking her.

"Never again," I whispered to my reflection, my voice steadying with resolve. "This time, I choose."

Isaiah, the man I chose for myself this time, was everything Lachlan had never been—kind, attentive, genuinely interested in my thoughts and dreams.

When he proposed, there had been no family politics, no business mergers, just a man who loved me asking me to build a life together. This engagement party would be the first step toward a future where I held the reins of my own destiny.

I applied my lipstick with careful precision, each stroke an act of defiance against the woman I had once been—meek, powerless, forgotten.

Tonight, I would stand beside a man who saw me as an equal, not a commodity.

The engagement hall buzzed with warm conversation when I arrived, the golden light from crystal chandeliers casting everything in a soft, romantic glow. Isaiah spotted me immediately, his face lighting up with genuine joy as he crossed the room to take my hand.

"You look breathtaking," he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to my knuckles. The simple gesture sent warmth spreading through my chest—no performance, no calculation, just honest affection.

I moved through the crowd on his arm, accepting congratulations from friends and colleagues, my smile growing more natural with each kind word. These people were here because they cared about us, not because of some