On the night of her royal wedding, Lady Eleanor Ashford died from a cup of poisoned wine given to her by her own husband.

She lay on the cold marble floor of the palace chamber, while Prince Adrian Blackthorn stood beside her with eyes as cold as winter.

Next to him was Isabella Whitmore, Eleanor’s younger cousin—the girl she had protected like a sister.

Eleanor: “Why…?”

Adrian smiled faintly.

Adrian: “Because the woman I loved was never you.”

Isabella knelt beside Eleanor and gently adjusted the jeweled hairpin in her hair.

Isabella: “Thank you, dear cousin. Without you, I could never have become Crown Princess.”

Eleanor trembled as she looked at the two people she had trusted most.

She had used her fortune to help Adrian gain political power.

She had begged the king to spare him when he was accused of treason.

She had rejected a marriage proposal from the heir to the throne just to stay by his side.

And in the end, all she received was a cup of poison.

As darkness swallowed her vision, she heard Adrian’s final order.

Adrian: “Bury her outside the capital. No one must know.”

A tear slid down Eleanor’s cheek.

If there were another life…

She would make him suffer for every drop of pain he had given her.

Thunder cracked across the sky.

Eleanor gasped and sat upright.

She was not in a palace tomb.

She was in her old bedroom at Ashford Manor.

Outside, a maid’s cheerful voice rang through the corridor.

Maid: “My lady, today is the day Prince Adrian comes to ask for your hand!”

Eleanor froze.

She turned toward the mirror.

The face reflected there was not that of a dead princess, but a sixteen-year-old girl.

She had returned.

Returned to the very day her tragedy began.

In her previous life, she had cried with joy when Adrian came to propose.

In this life, her eyes held only ice.

Eleanor slowly clenched her fists.

Eleanor (thinking): “Adrian Blackthorn… this time, we will settle our debt from the beginning.”

The grand hall of Ashford Manor was filled with nobles.

Prince Adrian stood there exactly as she remembered—handsome, elegant, and dangerously charming.

He smiled warmly.

Adrian: “Lady Eleanor, will you become my wife?”

In her previous life, she had blushed and nodded.

This time, she bowed slightly.

Eleanor: “I refuse.”

The hall fell silent.

Adrian’s smile froze.

Adrian: “What did you say?”

Eleanor lifted her head, her expression calm enough to frighten him.

Eleanor: “I have no wish to marry Your Highness.”

For the first time, she saw panic flicker in his eyes.

From that day, the capital of Ravencrest began to change.

Eleanor no longer helped Adrian.

Instead, she quietly gathered those he had once betrayed.

She saved the loyal minister who had been executed in her previous life.

She kept the account books proving Adrian’s corruption instead of burning them for him.

And she approached Lord Lucien Vale, the king’s feared Regent, the man who had opposed Adrian for years.

One rainy evening beneath the stone arches of the palace garden, Lucien studied her carefully.

Lucien: “Why are you helping me, Lady Eleanor?”

Eleanor smiled faintly.

Eleanor: “Because I want a man to pay for his sins.”

Lucien’s gaze sharpened.

Lucien: “You speak as though you have already seen the future.”

Eleanor’s breath caught for a moment, but she answered softly:

Eleanor: “Perhaps I have already died once.”

Lucien asked no more questions.

But from that night on, he stood beside her.

Months later, Adrian arrived at Ashford Manor under cover of darkness.

He seized Eleanor’s wrist.

Adrian: “What are you trying to do?”

Eleanor looked at his hand gripping hers and slowly removed it.

Eleanor: “I want you to feel what betrayal tastes like.”

Adrian: “I have never betrayed you!”

Eleanor laughed softly, and the sound sent a chill through him.

Eleanor: “Then tell me, Your Highness… how would it feel to die by the hand of the person you loved most?”

Adrian’s face paled.

For a single terrifying moment, he felt as though she knew a secret no living person could know.

The day of Adrian’s coronation finally arrived.

He believed he had won.

Until Eleanor entered the throne hall.

In her hands were the forged royal decree, the hidden ledgers of corruption, and the secret letters proving his alliance with foreign enemies.

The court erupted in shock.

The king rose in fury.

King: “Prince Adrian Blackthorn, what have you to say for yourself?”

Adrian turned toward Eleanor, his eyes burning.

Adrian: “You ruined me!”

Eleanor descended the steps of the throne dais one by one.

Her voice was softer than silk.

Eleanor: “No.”

She stopped before him.

Eleanor: “You ruined yourself.”

Adrian was stripped of his title and thrown into the Black Tower prison.

On the final night before his sentence, Eleanor came to see him.

The cell was cold and damp.

The man who had once dreamed of a crown now looked broken.

He stared at her as though she were a ghost.

Adrian: “Eleanor… if I could begin again, I would love you sincerely.”

Eleanor was silent for a long time.

Then she placed a silver goblet on the table between them.

His eyes widened.

It was the same kind of goblet he had used to give her poisoned wine in her previous life.

Eleanor looked at him steadily.

Eleanor: “In my last life, I asked you why.”

She leaned closer.

Eleanor: “In this life, ask yourself.”

Then she turned and walked out of the cell.

Behind her came the sound of silver striking stone.

But she never looked back.

Three months later, Adrian Blackthorn died in prison.

The people of Ravencrest called Eleanor Ashford cruel.

Only Lord Lucien Vale knew that beneath her coldness was a heart that had once been shattered to death.

On a quiet spring night, they stood together on the palace walls overlooking the city lights.

Lucien: “Your revenge is complete. Are you happy now?”

Eleanor watched the thousands of lanterns glowing below.

For a long time, she said nothing.

Then she touched her chest and answered softly:

Eleanor: “No.”

A faint breeze lifted her dark hair.

Eleanor: “But for the first time… I no longer hurt.”