The Heiress' Comeback

My fiancé fell in love with a mute woman who saved his life and wanted to break off our engagement.

I kindly advised her, “The Harlow family isn’t easy to be part of. You might want to reconsider.”

The mute woman, feeling insulted, took poison and ended her life.

Ten years later, Victor Harlow, after taking full control of the family conglomerate, did one thing: destroyed the Grant family and came for my life.

“This is the debt you owe Yvonne.”

When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to my 23rd birthday banquet.

The patriarch, William Harlow, asked me what I wished for.

“Since Victor and Yvonne are deeply in love, please let this 'perfect couple' be together.”

I died on an unbearably cold winter night.

I thought I could hold on until the warmth of spring returned, but Victor Harlow didn’t have the patience to wait.

Without anesthetic, the scalpel cut into my chest, inch by inch, blood gushing like a spring.

And yet, his hatred wasn’t satisfied.

He raised his arm, driving the icy blade straight into my heart.

The excruciating pain nearly suffocated me.

Struggling, I gasped out a question, “Why?”

I truly couldn’t understand.

We grew up together, childhood sweethearts from families with generations of close ties.

For so many years, my father supported the Harlow Corporation, paving the way for his rise to power.

Even after he gained full control of the company, we never once sought to exploit him.

But he manipulated the stock market, fabricated scandals, and forced the Grant family to ruin.

“Why, Victor?” I desperately clutched his tie.

Victor glared at me with burning hatred. Though he was the one killing me, his expression was as if I had betrayed him.

“This is what you and your family owe Yvonne.”

He leaned down, his voice colder than the winter wind outside the window.

Yvonne?

Yvonne Sullivan?

The memory was so distant it took me a moment to recall that name and that delicate, pitiful face.

A bitter laugh escaped me.

It had been ten years.

Victor had never forgotten her.

He had pinned her death on me and the entire Grant family.

“Victor, you’re such a—”

Fool.

Before I could finish the final word, Victor pulled the scalpel from my chest.

Crimson blood gushed out, blurring my vision.

The pain was unbearable.

…

“Miss, are you having another headache?”

There was no icy, damp cellar, and no howling winds surrounding me.

Instead, the room was a haven of warmth and elegance, alive with the soft clinking of glasses and the hum of lively conversation.

Outside the window, neon lights flickered, and the city pulsed with life.

I stood on the terrace of a luxurious hotel, overlooking this sleepless metropolis.

This was my 23rd birthday party.

I had been reborn.

Not only was I alive and well, but I had returned to ten years ago.

This was the year the Grant Corporation had just completed a major international acquisition and