Lila's pov
I died.
Not heroically. Not dramatically. Not even in a way that would make sense in an obituary.
No, I,Lila , 28 years old, moderately successful freelance artist, and now 'former' wife of billionaire CEO Adrian Cross had been pushed off a balcony.
"Lila and dogs are not allowed in here!" Is what I heard before anything even happened or even registered in my mind.
One second, I was savoring my sweet dessert, and the next, my husband of almost 7 years,the same man who had a cold look on his face like he didn't care about me,was calmly wiping his hands after shoving me off our penthouse terrace.
Turns out he did very much hate my guts.
"You shouldn't have tried to kill any members of my family!" were his last words to me.
And then ,splat.
Last thing I remember asking myself is'tried to kill your family?'
If there is a God out there,in my next life,I want to stay as far away from this demon as possible.
Then...
Darkness.
And now…
Now I was alive again.
I shot upright in bed, gasping like I'd just run a marathon. My heart pounded so hard I could hear it in my ears.
Where am I?
Sunlight streamed through sheer curtains, casting a golden glow over a ridiculously luxurious bedroom. Silk sheets. A chandelier. A walk-in closet bigger than my old apartment.
And beside me, breathing softly, was him.
Adrian Cross.
My (soon-to-be-ex) husband.
Younger. Softer. Still unfairly handsome with his tousled dark hair and that damnably perfect jawline.
My hands trembled.
"This isn't happening."
I scrambled for my phone on the nightstand and nearly screamed at the date.
Six years ago.
Three. Days. After. Our. Wedding.
I had time-traveled...no, rebirthed into the past.
And I was still married to my murderer.
I have to stay away from this man no matter what. Since he didn't like me that made my order of business even easier.
I didn't care how. I didn't care why. All I knew was that I needed to get out of this marriage before Adrian decided that homicide was an acceptable life choice.
I did not want to die like that again.
I slid out of bed, careful not to wake him, and tiptoed to the ensuite bathroom. Locking the door, I gripped the marble sink and stared at my reflection.
Same honey-blonde hair. Same green eyes. Same stupidly optimistic face that had once believed in fairy-tale love.
Not this time.
I splashed cold water on my face.
My first plan is to find a lawyer. Serve divorce papers. Never be alone in a room with Adrian again .
Simple.
Problem is Adrian is wierdly.... sweet?
"Morning, Mrs. Cross."
I nearly jumped out of my skin as Adrian's sleep-rough voice came from the other side of the door.
Mrs. Cross. Ugh. That name was a death sentence.
"Uh. Morning," I mumbled, cracking the door open just enough to see him.
He stood there, shirtless (because ,of course,he was), with a lazy smile that had once made my knees weak. Now it just made me want to throw a chair at him.
"You okay?" He tilted his head, concern flickering in those stupidly perfect blue eyes. "You look… tense."
Gee, I wonder why.
"I'm fine," I lied. "Just… thinking."
"About?"
How to legally annul this marriage before you develop a taste for spousal murder.
"Coffee," I blurted. "I need coffee."
His smile softened. "I'll make you some."
And then,because the universe hated me,he leaned in and pressed a kiss to my forehead before strolling off like a man who ,hadn't,once sent me plummeting to my doom over something I had no clue about.
I stared after him, torn between fury and confusion.
Who even is this guy?
Because the Adrian I remembered from my past life had been cold, controlling, and eventually homicidal.
This Adrian?
This Adrian brought me coffee exactly how I liked it.
This Adrian hummed while making breakfast.
This Adrian looked at me like I was the center of his damn universe.
And that…
That was ,terrifying.
I started to think that maybe, I had imagined my entire death (unlikely, because I 'distinctly' remembered the ground rushing toward me). Or ,Adrian hadn't 'yet' become the monster he'd be in six years.
Which meant…
I could fix this.
Or, more accurately, 'run like hell.'