Chapter 3

“Sister, you can’t seriously have just this one dress? Alex prepared a whole ten wedding gowns for me—each one sexier than the last, custom from Paris, with diamonds sewn into the hems.”

Alex stared at Isabella with open lust, his large hand sliding down to squeeze her ass possessively right in front of us, his bulge already tenting his expensive trousers like he was ready to bend her over the nearest surface.

Damien’s grip on the box tightened for a fraction of a second. His dark eyes flicked to me, serious and steady. “It’s my family that has been wronged in reputation for years, Sophia. I promise you here and now—Damien Voss will never betray you in this life. Not in business, not in bed, not in anything.”

Isabella snorted loudly. “Pretty words are cheap. Let’s see if you can even knock her up before the board votes on the next chairman!”

Isabella couldn’t stop yapping about babies now—her barren past life was a constant thorn, so she was obsessed. She wasn’t even married yet but was already living full-time in Alex’s penthouse, spreading her legs whenever he snapped his fingers.

In a way they were perfect for each other—both obsessed with heirs and power.

“Sister, focus on your own marriage. Someone might think you’re still eyeing my fiancé,” I said with a faint smile, letting the words hang.

In the midst of their ugly, shocked expressions I took Damien’s hand—warm, strong, steady—and walked out with him.

Soon, from behind us in the hallway, I heard Isabella flirting with Alex, her voice dripping with seduction as she pressed her body against his, grinding her hips into his massive bulge.

“Alex, baby, fuck me hard tonight and pump me full of your hot cum. I want your heir growing in me so bad—make me the mother of the next empire ruler.”

My stupid sister—reborn with a second chance and still obsessed with rising through motherhood and backstabbing.

Damien’s cool, detached voice whispered close to my ear as we rode the private elevator down. “Sophia, I know you chose me out of necessity and perhaps strategy, but I swear on every share I own, within my power I’ll never let you suffer again.”

Hearing the quiet sincerity, I turned instinctively. My shoulder accidentally brushed his broad chest. A strange, intoxicating scent—expensive cologne mixed with something darker, masculine—filled my nose and made my knees feel weak.

I looked up at him, speaking seriously, word by word, my voice low but firm. “Damien, I chose you willingly. Not out of necessity. And from now on, call me Sophia—don’t be so formal. We’re going to be husband and wife.”

I saw a flicker of something raw and unusual flash in his dark eyes—surprise, hunger, perhaps relief. His hand tightened around mine.

“Alright… Sophia.”

Three days later the two weddings happened as planned in the same grand ballroom of the Empire Tower in Manhattan. Crystal chandeliers, gold place settings, press cameras flashing everywhere.

The Blackwood wedding was even bigger than in my past life. They had invited hidden influencers, top media outlets, board members from rival families, even a few senators for “blessings.” The entire elite circle attended theirs. Stock prices for Blackwood jumped 8% on the announcement alone.

Our Voss side felt deliberately quiet and understated—no extra guests, no flashy press, just elegant and private. But the Voss executives and inner circle were visibly thrilled. An alliance with the White family finally gave them a legitimate shot at breaking out of their “declining” label and claiming real empire control at the next board vote.

After the ceremony, I ran into Isabella face-to-face near the champagne tower. She deliberately tilted her neck, showing off the fresh bite marks and dark hickeys Alex had left all over her skin—red and raw from his rough claiming.

“Sister, I had no idea Alex had such insane stamina. His huge cock kept pounding me all night long—I bet I’ll be carrying his heir by next month.”

I smiled slightly, keeping my voice sweet. “Then I wish you luck with that. May your pregnancy be as smooth as your planning.”

Isabella thought getting pregnant was easy. She had no idea how hard it actually was for outsiders to lock in a legitimate heir quickly with the Blackwood bloodline.

In my past life she had assumed my pregnancy was simple and figured she’d have the same luck. She had bragged to every gossip column about getting knocked up within months, and word spread like wildfire through the business circles.

Seeing her so confident, even Alex believed her without question, his eyes always hungry as he groped her curves in public.

My calm, unbothered demeanor pissed her off—it looked like defiance. She stepped closer, voice low and venomous.

“Whatever, you wouldn’t get it anyway. You’re stuck in the beggar Voss family now. Enjoy your little ‘alliance.’”

She gave a disgusted glance at the nearby Voss security team, hitched up her skirt dramatically, and tried to brush past me.

I grabbed her arm hard enough to leave marks, stopping her in front of at least twenty elite guests.

“Isabella, apologize. Apologize to the Voss family right now—for insulting them in public.”

Isabella got mad, yanking her arm away and yelling loud enough for the cameras to turn. “Sophia, what the hell is wrong with you!”

We started arguing right there in the middle of the hall. The lingering guests stopped their conversations to watch the live drama. Phones came out. This would be all over the business news by morning.

Finally Father stepped in, red-faced, figured out what had happened, and forced Isabella to issue a public apology to the Voss representatives. Even though the Voss family was seen as low-tier, when the White family insulted them openly, the other major families would band together against the disrespect—it was bad for overall market confidence.

As she was dragged away by Alex, Isabella shot me a venomous glare and whispered so only I could hear, “Sophia, this life, I’m winning. Watch me take everything from you again.”