The Architect Who Rose From Ashes

I died of a broken heart while my fiancé, Kade, was busy comforting his "best friend" over a cold.

When I opened my eyes, I was back at our engagement party, ten years in the past.

I didn't hesitate. I took off the ring and called it quits.

But Kyla wasn't letting go that easily. She deliberately ate a peanut cookie, faking a severe reaction to frame me.

Kade didn't ask questions. He looked at me with pure hatred.

"You monster! You knew she was allergic!"

He even blamed me for his driver's sudden heart attack, screaming that I was a murderer who deserved to be ruined.

I didn't defend myself. I didn't cry.

I simply boarded a plane to London and vanished from his life.

Thirteen years later, I returned as a world-renowned architect.

Kade, who had finally uncovered the truth and spent a decade in silent penance, fell to his knees begging for a second chance.

I looked at the man who had once been my world and smiled coldly.

"I forgive you, Kade. But the Harper who loved you is dead. You killed her yourself."

Chapter 1

Harper Merritt POV:

The last thing I remembered was the sterile white of a hospital ceiling, the faint, rhythmic beeping of machines, and the crushing weight in my chest. A stress-induced heart condition, they'd said. Kade wasn' t there. He was with Kyla Horn, comforting her over some minor sniffle while I slipped away, alone. Now, the overwhelming scent of lilies and expensive champagne assaulted my senses. My eyes fluttered open.

Crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead, reflecting off polished marble floors. A murmur of well-dressed guests filled the grand ballroom, their laughter a dull thrum in my ears. The world spun for a second, then snapped into sharp focus. This wasn' t a hospital. This was the Rivera family mansion. This was my engagement party. My engagement party to Kade Rivera. Ten years ago.

My breath hitched. This was real. I was here, in my twenty-fifth year, clutching a glass of lukewarm champagne, standing beside the man who would break my heart and unknowingly cause my death. He hadn't changed. Not yet. His jaw was still too sharp, his eyes a shade too condescending when he glanced my way, his smile a practiced, empty gesture.

"Darling, you look a little pale," Kade murmured, his voice a low rumble. He wasn't looking at me. His gaze was fixed across the room, where Kyla Horn, draped in emerald green silk, was laughing a little too loudly with a group of socialites. That familiar pang, sharp and unwelcome, twisted in my gut. Even now, on our engagement night, his true love was elsewhere.

I swallowed, the champagne suddenly tasting like ash. "I'm fine, Kade," I managed, my voice surprisingly steady. Fine. The word was a lie I had lived for ten years. But not anymore. Not this time.

Kade finally turned to me, a flicker of irritation in his blue eyes. "Are you sure?