Chapter 1

"You'd hurt yourself for Johnny? Do you really want to marry him that badly?"

As Vivienne Quinn drifted in and out of consciousness, she heard Roman Goodwin's voice and stiffened up.

Was she hallucinating? But she could have sworn she was already dead.

She looked up despite herself. The instant she saw Roman's bloodshot eyes, a jolt shot through her and set every nerve alight. Her skull throbbed as if it might burst.

"Roman..." Vivienne whispered, her lips quivering as the corners of her eyes went red.

She had never imagined she would see Roman again after she died. She reached for him on instinct, but he caught her wrist.

A sudden sting made her frown. She looked down, and what she saw made her widen her eyes. There was a deep gash on her wrist, and when she looked closer, glass slivers were lodged in the wound.

"Answer me! Are you dead set on marrying him?"

Roman's voice was tight with fury, thundering across the room.

The familiarity made Vivienne's head ring. She looked around and saw a dozen men in shirts and ties watching her in silence. She felt her stomach drop hard.

Why did this feel so familiar?

It felt like the day she graduated from college three years earlier, when Johnny York had proposed and Roman told him to back off.

That night, Vivienne stormed into the banquet hall. In front of a dozen company higher-ups, she threatened to kill herself unless Roman approved her marriage to Johnny.

When Roman said no, she smashed a bottle against the table, then cut her wrist with the jagged edge. In the end, Roman gave in and allowed her to marry Johnny.

After that, Vivienne didn't see Roman again until the day she died.

Had time been rewound, sending her back three years?

When Vivienne didn't answer, Roman let go of her wrist with a bitter, mocking look.

"I'll agree," he said in a cold, raspy voice.

He turned away and refused to look at her again.

"Y-you agreed?"

Vivienne came to herself and caught his hand. "No, you can't."

Roman paused and turned back to her, something unreadable flickering in his dark eyes.

Vivienne had been willing to hurt herself just to marry Johnny, so why was she reacting like this now that Roman had agreed?

Her eyes were red-rimmed, and her grip on Roman's hand trembled. "I don't want to marry Johnny anymore. Roman, I was wrong. I'll follow your lead. Will you take me home, please?"

Johnny was pure evil!

In Vivienne's last life, he and her best friend, Kaitlyn Swanson, teamed up to strip her of her inheritance.

When they couldn't handle the pressure from Roman, they abducted Vivienne to draw him out. Then Johnny trapped Roman behind a wall of flames and burned him alive.

At the funeral, Johnny forced Vivienne down at Roman's grave and assaulted her. She still remembered what Johnny said at Roman's tombstone.

"Look at the rose you guarded so carefully. See how filthy she is under me."

Later, Johnny kept Vivienne locked up, treating her like an animal.

News reached Kaitlyn fast. She arrived with a crew, demanded that Vivienne be sewn shut below the waist, then had her shipped to a remote island.

The torment never let up. In the end, Vivienne never survived. Those men killed her.

When the memories hit, Vivienne flinched and clung to Roman. "Roman, it hurts. It really hurts."

Her tears seeped into his shirt.

Roman frowned. The ache he'd been carrying eased.

He wasn't sure if she was pretending to be fragile again just to soften him, but the second he heard her say she was hurting, he scooped her up without thinking.

"Let's go home," he said softly, his earlier sharpness gone.

Everyone knew that Roman, the Goodwins' third in line, wielded influence on both sides of the law. His reach was broad, and he controlled Ardelisse's financial lifeline.

But the man with all that power had one weak spot no one was allowed near, Vivienne, the Quinns' only daughter.

She grew up running with Roman and his friends. When she was five, a car crash killed her family and left her in the ICU fighting to live.

Everyone said she wouldn't survive, but Roman refused to give up. He pushed his parents and the doctors until they brought her back from the edge.

They were only four years apart, but Roman had practically raised Vivienne himself.

He took her to the hospital and had her injury treated. Back in the car, he leaned against him.

"Sit up," Roman murmured, giving her a small shove.

Vivienne whimpered, wrapped both hands around his arm, and nuzzled against his shoulder like a kitten. "Roman, my hand hurts."

Roman's eyes narrowed, irritation flashing across his face. "And whose fault is that?"

"Mine. So, can you please stop being mad?"

She looked up, her nose barely grazing his lips.