Chapter 2

Adriana’s POV

Weeks before my engagement ceremony was announced, I still had to let my mind catch up to the world I had been thrown back into. Damian and I weren’t married yet, but the engagement was only weeks away. I had a narrow window to stop it, and it would not be easy.

Damian Cole came from a circle everyone watched. Linked to the Governor’s Honor Guard and wrapped in prestige, he was ambitious, admired, and one of many suitors who had eyed me. It was easy to see why.

My own family had not always drawn admiration. My grandfather, a scholar sponsored into the academy, had built a small fortune with his writings. Over time, our family expanded into real estate and construction and eventually won government contracts that made the Cole name respected. That rise made me a desirable match. My parents promised a sizable dowry; my brother Matthew would inherit, but I would serve as a bridge between powerful houses.

Why had I agreed to Damian’s hand? He had praised my work, my studies, my designs, before he ever complimented my face. That respect for my mind had set him apart from men who only saw a pretty girl. I had fallen for the illusion of being seen..one of the cruellest illusions I had ever believed.

This time, I vowed never to fall for someone again. Love had given me nothing but wasted years and..worse, my death.

I moved under shadows as the estate’s security detail turned a corner, dressed in a plain courier uniform borrowed for the errand. Today, I would find out if Damian and Selene had been together before the engagement. Proof could stop everything before the ceremony and before history repeated itself.

I slipped across the lawn toward the stables, knowing the schedules better than most. I had been slipping out as a child, testing boundaries and learning the city’s rhythms. I didn’t want Matthew involved; he would demand the engagement end if he saw Damian with Selene. But that might force Damian into a contract marriage with her, giving her the advantage I refused to grant.

Two copper coins and a sweet biscuit for the stable hand got me into the city in a taxi. I smoothed my plain blouse and hood, blending with the crowd. In my old life, Selene had bragged that she and Damian were already involved before any engagement. Gifts had been bait: silver and sapphire hairpieces for me, an extravagant emerald-and-gold piece for her. Today, the boutique receipt would confirm everything.

The boutique was tucked on a busy block, the kind of place that sold a woman status in a velvet-lined box. A black SUV with a state emblem glinted in the reflection, and Damian stepped from the vehicle with a hooded companion. Chestnut hair slipped free. Selene. My stomach turned.

It was true. He had been seeing her behind everyone’s backs.

I entered the boutique, voice light as the shopkeeper glanced over my plain uniform. “How can I help you?”

I dipped into a small curtsey. “My employer asked me to look for hairpieces for a luncheon. She’s planning a small tea, sir.”

His eyes brightened. “And your employer is?”

“Mistress Hunter,” I lied, jingling my pouch of cash..paying in cash left no trace.

“Oh my,” the owner murmured. “Your mistress will love this.” He led me to a back display.

My heart sank. Two ruby-set pins in a style similar to the sapphire ones Damian had given us. More expensive, more ornate. Proof I did not want to find.

“Do you have an emerald or sapphire version?” I asked calmly.

“Sold out at the moment. Sapphire is less expensive than ruby, though,” he said.

I shook my head. My eye caught a butterfly-shaped gold pin inlaid with soft golden-pink pearls. Nostalgia pricked me. Perhaps I could have something made similar for myself.

“How much is this?” I asked.

“You have a good eye. Your mistress will love it.” I paid without hesitation, clutching the pin as I left, purse lighter and resolve heavier.

I walked toward the spot where I had told the stable hand to wait and felt the prickling sense of being watched. I pulled my hood down lower. No one should have recognized me. I kept to busier streets and quick steps.

A delivery truck lumbered past and a hand yanked me into a shadowed lane.

“Grab her money,” a rough voice hissed. Dark-clad men crowded around me, one pressing a sweet-smelling cloth toward my mouth.

How laughable. I was not some helpless noble. My parents had been progressive; Matthew had taught me to defend myself. On my eighteen birthday he had given me a compact heirloom knife, its handle worn and blade sharp. I had kept it for moments like this.

I slashed. The man with the cloth yelped as steel cut his palm. He fell back, blood running warm and bright.

“You bitch,” he howled.

I wrenched free my knife and kicked out. One thief crumpled with a groan. Another lunged, and I used his momentum to flip him over my shoulder. He smacked the alley wall and went limp.

The third moved, and a gloved fist connected with his jaw. He dropped.

When I turned, a hooded stranger stood over us, a long blade balanced across his forearm. The sword was of fine make; the man moved like someone used to danger.

The hood fell back. Black hair, straight nose, hard jaw, green eyes that seemed to see too much.

“Ray,” I breathed.

In the life that had ended, I had worked with Raymond Martins. His company shipped exotic timbers and rare materials my firm needed. We had laughed over a lost bet once, and he had never minded when I called him by his nickname. In this timeline, he had not known me yet. His eyes narrowed when he heard my name.

“Who are you?” he asked slowly.

His sword tipped toward me. I knew with a careless flick he could have ended me. He had the power of a man who commanded private security, and whose word moved courts and docks alike.

I curtsied, more reflex than thought. “Thank you for saving me. I must be on my way.”

Keeping my head down, I slipped past him into the crowd. Now was not the time to be introduced to Raymond Martins. Explanations would only lead to questions I did not want to answer.

“Should we follow her, Sir?” a man behind him asked.

“No, there’s no need,” Ray said, waving off his men. “Take these men and put them in the cells.”

The woman had been strange, he told himself, as he watched the thief’s men hauled away. Her blade was too fine for a mere courier. The hilt had small diamonds inlaid. The way she fought was skilled, deliberate. Had he not stepped in, he suspected she would have handled them herself. Her face had been shown in a flash when her hood slipped. Golden hair framed her jawline in soft curls. Her eyes were a calculating grey, and when they met his, she had looked at him the way someone looks at a person they remember from a life they believed was gone.

Ray bent and picked up a silk handkerchief someone had dropped in the skirmish. It was embroidered with a small grey owl perched over a scroll in the corner, a mark of a family or merchant house. He did not know who the woman was, yet she had known him by name.

“Find who this belongs to,” he said.