The cold, sterile scent of hospital bleach was the last thing Dahlia Whitmore remembered before the darkness claimed her. In her first life, she had been the radiant sun around which her three foster brothers revolved—or so she thought. Liam, the brilliant strategist; Silas, the cold-blooded prosecutor; and Elias, the charming surgeon, had all sworn to protect her. Yet, when Chloe, a manipulative scholarship student, entered their lives with her "fragile" act, they turned into Dahlia’s executioners. They stripped her of her inheritance, ignored her pleas as Chloe framed her for crimes she didn’t commit, and ultimately watched with indifferent eyes as she withered away in a cold cell. Their betrayal was a jagged blade that twisted in her heart until her very last breath was a prayer for vengeance and a chance to rewrite the tragedy.
When Dahlia opened her eyes, she wasn't in the afterlife; she was back in the sun-drenched conservatory of the Whitmore estate, exactly one year before her downfall. The date on her phone confirmed the miracle: she had returned to the day of her engagement announcement to the three brothers—a bizarre tradition her father had instilled to let her choose the best successor. Looking at her reflection, she saw the "precious heiress" she used to be, but her eyes now held the frost of a woman who had tasted death. Across the room, Liam, Silas, and Elias were already hovering around Chloe, who was "accidentally" spilling tea on her cheap dress to garner their sympathy. The familiar scene, which once caused Dahlia immense jealousy, now only sparked a cold, refreshing sense of detachment.
"Dahlia, aren't you going to apologize? Chloe is upset because you startled her," Silas remarked, his voice like ice. In her past life, Dahlia would have cried and defended herself, only to be labeled a bully. This time, she simply set her teacup down with a terrifyingly calm click. She looked at the three men who had once been her world and felt nothing but visceral disgust. "There is no need for apologies, Silas, because there is no longer a 'we'." She stood up, her posture regal and unyielding. "I am dissolving the engagement contracts immediately. All three of them. You are no longer my suitors, and as of today, you are no longer welcome in the Whitmore main house. Pack your belongings and take your 'charity case' with you."
The brothers were stunned into silence, but Dahlia didn't wait for their reaction. She had a much more important meeting to attend. She drove to the outskirts of the city, to a fortress-like estate guarded by men in black suits. Adrian DeLuca, the heir to the most powerful underground empire in the country, was waiting. In her past life, Adrian had proposed to her ninety-nine times, each time more extravagant than the last. She had rejected him every time, fearing his "dangerous" reputation and staying "loyal" to her brothers. Now, she realized that while her brothers offered her a cage of thorns, Adrian had offered her a throne. He was a man who lived in the shadows but possessed a heart far more honorable than the "gentlemen" she had grown up with.
Adrian was sitting in his study, a glass of bourbon in hand, looking like a dark god of war. When Dahlia walked in, his eyes widened in genuine shock. "Miss Whitmore? To what do I owe this unexpected honor? Have you come to deliver your hundredth rejection in person?" he asked, his voice a low, melodic rumble. Dahlia didn't hesitate. She walked straight to his desk, leaned over, and looked him in the eye. "I'm here to ask if your offer still stands, Adrian. But I don't want a courtship. I want a marriage. A political alliance to crush those who think they can steal my legacy, and a partner who won't flinch when I draw blood." Adrian’s smirk was slow and predatory, filled with a decade of repressed longing.
The news of Dahlia’s marriage to the "Devil of DeLuca" sent shockwaves through the elite circles. Liam, Silas, and Elias were convinced she was simply acting out to get their attention. They waited for her to come crawling back, certain she couldn't handle the ruthless world of the DeLuca family. However, the Dahlia who appeared at the next gala was unrecognizable. Dressed in blood-red silk and draped in diamonds that cost more than the Whitmore estates, she walked into the room on Adrian’s arm. He treated her not as a trophy, but as a queen, his hand never leaving the small of her back, his eyes surveying the room for any perceived threat to her comfort. She looked powerful, cherished, and entirely untouchable.
During the gala, the three brothers tried to corner her, Chloe trailing behind them like a lost puppy. "Dahlia, stop this madness," Liam hissed, reaching for her wrist. Before he could touch her, Adrian’s hand clamped around Liam’s arm with bone-crushing force. The atmosphere turned lethal in a second. "I suggest you remember who she belongs to now," Adrian whispered, his voice carrying a promise of violence. Dahlia looked at Liam with pity. "I am not a prize to be won back, Liam. You three chose Chloe. You chose to believe a stranger over the sister who grew up with you. You threw me away, and in doing so, you gave me the freedom to find a man who actually knows the value of a Whitmore."
As the months passed, Dahlia and Adrian’s "political" marriage blossomed into a terrifyingly beautiful romance. Adrian didn't just give her protection; he gave her the resources to dismantle her enemies. Together, they uncovered the truth about Chloe—she wasn't a poor scholarship girl, but a plant from a rival corporation sent to destabilize the Whitmores. When the evidence was laid bare, the three brothers were devastated. They realized they had destroyed their relationship with Dahlia for a lie. One by one, they tried to beg for her forgiveness. Elias showed up at her gate with her favorite flowers; Silas tried to use his legal prowess to "help" her; Liam wrote desperate letters. Dahlia burned the flowers, ignored the legal aid, and shredded the letters without reading them.
The climax came when the brothers were forced to watch Dahlia’s official coronation as the head of the Whitmore-DeLuca conglomerate. Standing on the stage, radiant and fierce, she looked down at them from the heights they could no longer reach. Chloe had been disgraced and sent away, and the brothers were now social pariahs, known as the men who traded a diamond for a piece of glass. After the ceremony, in the privacy of their limousine, Adrian pulled Dahlia into his lap. "Are you satisfied, my Queen?" he asked, kissing her neck. Dahlia leaned back, feeling the warmth of a man who had never wavered. "More than satisfied, Adrian. I lost three brothers, but I gained a king. My second life is finally mine."
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