The world ended with the scent of rain.
Adrian Voss felt it before he saw it, the cold slick of blood on his palm, the metallic sting in the air, and the last echo of betrayal ringing in his skull. He remembered the boardroom lights burning white over the faces that had once called him friend. The same people who had smiled when they slid the knife in.
Then darkness took him.
And somewhere within that darkness, a voice whispered through the noise soft, cold, and impossibly calm.
"Would you change it, if you could?"
He didn't know if it was his mind breaking or the universe answering, but when his eyes opened again, everything was wrong. The ceiling above him was familiar cream paint cracked in the corner, a faint hum from the air vent. He sat up abruptly. His heart slammed once, twice too fast, too alive.
The mirror across the room caught him like a stranger. The face staring back was ten years younger. The faint creases at the edge of his eyes were gone. His shoulders lacked the weary weight of a man who had clawed his way through blood and steel.
His phone buzzed on the nightstand. June 8, 2015.
Ten years ago.
Adrian froze.
He remembered this morning down to the sunlight that slanted through the blinds, to the meeting that would set the first domino tumbling toward his eventual death. It wasn't just a dream. It was the past.
A laugh hoarse and half-mad escaped his lips. "You've got to be kidding me."
He rose, gripping the dresser for balance. His body trembled, not from fear, but from the flood of memory: the deals, the betrayals, the slow unraveling of trust.
He had been the empire's golden son once the youngest CEO in Montrose Group history, the prodigy with a vision too sharp for his own good. And they had crushed him for it.
Not this time.
He splashed cold water on his face, stared into the mirror, and felt something shift inside him. The reflection that stared back wasn't the reckless billionaire who had believed in loyalty; it was a ghost armed with knowledge of the future.
He knew who would betray him.
He knew when the market would crash.
He knew exactly when she would appear—the woman who had undone him without even meaning to.
Elara Montrose.
He didn't know whether to curse or thank fate for giving him this second chance, but one thing was certain—he would not die the same man again.
Somewhere outside, the city pulsed alive, unaware that a dead man had just risen among them.
Adrian adjusted his cufflinks cheap metal now, not yet the custom silver he'd once owned—and whispered to his reflection,
"This time, I'll play the game differently.