KAYROS'S POV
Ophelia sits silently next to me inside my black limo.
And I notice how her sitting position is so different.
The Ophelia I know—she never sits with her legs crossed, spine straight in a way that commands confidence and power without even speaking. That kind of elegance feels inborn, not practiced.
But this Ophelia… her sitting position, sharp and elegant, smooth and silently powerful, it just makes my gut twist even more in suspicion.
She boldly asked me to marry her, matched me, overpowered Vincent in front of everyone—
Nothing makes her Ophelia yet everything she did makes me feel this strange, unfamiliar yet comfortable tug.
This is exactly how Ophelia Blackwood should act and carry herself… but she never did.
Not in our past life.
Czar's eyes dart between us. The tension and silence inside the car must be making his skin crawl.
He clears his throat. Ophelia looks at him curiously as he tries to make things breathable.
"So… we are family now."
He winks at Ophelia, who tilts her head innocently—
which makes me almost choke on air.
The audacity to act innocent after rewiring everything inside my mind in less than two hours.
Czar feels it too. His eye twitches.
"I mean, you are marrying Kayros, and so—we are family."
He keeps his voice light and playful.
Ophelia chuckles… CHUCKLES???
"We are family for a very long time. You are my older sister's fiancé, after all."
Czar's smile freezes.
Confusion curls his brows slightly.
The Ophelia we know never talked with such ease with Czar. She always seemed to hold something against him…
Another deviation…
Her eyes turn to me, warm and impressed.
"You know, I know I am beautiful, but the way you're staring is going to make me blush."
I roll my eyes at the comment.
"You are too self-centered." I mutter—too fast.
She leans closer, and my heart clenches… not just painfully, but with longing and something else I refuse to name.
"You're saying I'm not pretty?" she asks, amusement playing on her lips.
I want to lie. I want to hurt her. I want to ruin her…
Yet my eyes trace the curve of her cheekbone catching warmth, the point of her nose, the curve of her lips—lips I kissed hundreds of times when I believed I finally had it all.
She is gorgeous… so ethereal she feels like the only warmth I have ever known.
The light I clung to desperately and foolishly.
Our son had her nose and lips.
The small scrunch of her nose whenever she got irritated…
Our Elias had it.
It feels like someone grabs my throat and squeezes too hard.
Elias's small face flashes in my mind and I can see him again in her eyes.
I hate it.
I fucking hate how much power I surrendered to Ophelia back then.
Nobody could ruin me like she did.
Yet the woman sitting next to me, leaning close with mischief in her eyes, feels like someone I have always known in some corner of my life and history.
I clench my fist tightly, feeling the small pain of my nails digging into my flesh.
"You are beautiful…"
I breathe out slowly.
"But that's all you are—an empty, loud, and well-decorated bottle."
Her eyes widen in surprise.
Her smile slowly flattens.
She is hurt…
Yeah, I hurt her.
The annoyingly unfamiliar spark in her eyes dims like someone turned off a switch inside her.
My voice doesn't crack or tremble when I said it.
A cold rush of satisfaction relaxes my body for the first time in a long time.
It is cruel, but I do not care.
She had it coming.
Ophelia slowly pulls back.
Her spine hunches forward slightly.
Her smile gone—back into the old shell of her.
Czar inhales sharply, giving me a look of disbelief.
He wasn't expecting me to hurt Ophelia.
But I am so done.
So done with being the only one who ever cared.
Just because it happened in a past life doesn't mean it didn't cost everyone I thought belonged to me.
"We are just getting married, Ophelia Blackwood," my words come cold and rough—no emotion, no wavering, nothing betraying the tearing in my soul.
"Do not expect love from me. You are not the kind of woman who can be loved."
I lie.
Her eyes widen.
Her face goes pale.
A cruel smile curves my lips, making her hold her breath.
I lean closer, my voice ruthless in promise.
"Ophelia Blackwood, you humiliated me, rejected me, betrayed me, and chose that bastard. What makes you think I won't make you suffer?"
She thinks I'm talking about her 18th birthday.
But I'm talking about when she betrayed me after I begged her to trust me and stay.
She whispers, "Kayros… you—you are still holding on to what happened on my 18th birthday?"
She sounds like she can't believe it.
I laugh, deep from my chest.
"Yeah, right, right."
She is Ophelia… but different?
Maybe a different soul but the same face?
I do not care.
I cup the back of her neck and jerk her closer, digging my fingers painfully into her skin.
She gasps.
"Ophelia Blackwood, I will ruin you."
I spit out in cold anger.
My jaw tightens.
"I will make you beg for mercy. I will make you wonder if you should have proposed marriage… or run when you had the time."
Her breathing catches.
Her eyes turn glassy—with disbelief and a hint of terror.
As it should.
Her lips part to speak, but I pull her closer, making her wince.
"Do not think it's going to be easy. You are only useful as long as you are a Blackwood."
My deep growl makes the tension in the car rumble.
Her eyes turn red.
Anger? Disappointment?
I don't know which one is funnier—or more dangerous.
"If you hate me so much, why did you agree to marry me?" she hisses.
Even when her body shakes and turns cold, she keeps her mask of ferocity.
I sneer—
that dangerously addictive feeling that comes only from being challenged by the person you hate the most.
"You said you'd force me if I don't marry you," I lean closer, my breath fanning over her skin.
She inhales sharply, her perfume something between cocoa butter and vanilla—
which makes me want to ruin her physically and emotionally.
"How can I risk that? And the best revenge is giving hope… and breaking it."
I lean closer, my eyes locked onto hers.
"I will make you hope, pray, and laugh… only to set fire to your happiness—and keep pouring gasoline till I'm satisfied."
Like you did to me.