Blurb：
In a world of shattered dreams and second chances, Vivian Lockwood’s life takes an unexpected turn. Once the princess of East Coast elite circles, her fairy-tale marriage to Alexander Sterling ended in divorce after his empire’s collapse. Haunted by a terrifying vision of her future—a bleak demise marked by poverty and betrayal—Vivian realizes that her survival depends on reuniting with Alexander. But the path to remarriage is fraught with challenges. Alexander, now living in a modest walk-up apartment, is guarded and distant, his pride wounded by his fall from grace. Complicating matters is Clara, his childhood friend, whose presence hints at a new chapter in his life. As Vivian navigates this emotional turmoil, she must confront her fears, protect her unborn child, and convince Alexander that their love is worth fighting for. Will she succeed in rewriting their story, or will the visions of her tragic fate become reality? Dive into this gripping tale of love, redemption, and the power of destiny.
Content：
I am the princess of the East Coast elite circles.
Less than a year after my storybook wedding to the East Coast’s golden boy, Alexander Sterling, his empire crumbled into bankruptcy.
After the divorce, I awoke from a fitful sleep haunted by visions of my story’s true ending. Driven by a primal fear I didn’t understand, I went to find him, to ask for a remarriage.
He merely frowned, his sculpted lips set in a forbidding line, “I’m sorry, Miss Lockwood.”
“The Sterling family has fallen from grace. We’re no longer worthy of someone of your standing.”
Standing beside him was his childhood friend, Clara, her smile a little too bright, a little too pleased.
My hand drifted to my belly, forcing an awkward smile, “Alright then, I guess I’ll find a different father for the baby?”
His pupils constricted violently, a terrifying storm brewing in the depths of his icy eyes,
“Say. That. Again?”
I was admitted to the pristine, sterile abortion clinic.
The cold, unforgiving surface of the operating table shocked my senses, a stark contrast to the warmth within me.
Suddenly—
Unfamiliar, horrifying images flashed behind my eyes.
In those visions, I bowed to my parents’ arrangements and remarried, this time to a man who married into the Lockwood fortune.
Within half a year, my parents died in a sudden, violent car accident. My new husband swiftly drained my accounts and abandoned me overseas.
Penniless and utterly alone on foreign streets, starving, I was reduced to rifling through overflowing garbage bins for food.
The stench of decay and sour milk, the sticky, filthy feel of rotting food on my fingers, filled me with a suffocating, bottomless despair.
Finally, a passing homeless man snatched the spoiled food from my hands and shoved me hard onto the grimy pavement.
Amidst swirling, indifferent snow, I lay there, withered and frail, unable to move.
Until the falling snow completely buried me.
The image froze there, a permanent still frame of my demise.
Just then, the harsh operating lights suddenly flickered on above me.
“Alright, relax your legs for me,” the nurse’s voice sounded distant, clinical.
I shot upright with a jolt, my voice choked and desperate. her face a mask of concern. “S-sorry, I changed my mind. I don’t want to do it.”
Coming out of the OR, my mother grabbed me, “Vivian? It’s over already?”
“No…” I shook my head, my heart still hammering against my ribs, tears streaming uncontrollably down my face.
“Mom, I don’t want to go through with it.”
Getting rid of this baby meant I’d die. Horribly. The vision was a warning.
I had to find Alexander Sterling!
I needed to remarry him!!
I rushed straight to the walk-up apartment the Sterlings had been forced to move into.
The building’s entrance door was rusty and peeling, the paint a faded, sickly color that seemed to reflect my own panic-stricken face.
For a moment, it seemed to overlap with that frozen, purple, shriveled face from my vision.
I shuddered, a wave of pure terror washing over me.
Just then, the sound of easy laughter and quiet conversation drifted from nearby.
I ducked instinctively into the deep shadows beneath the staircase.
Peeking out, I saw Alexander and a woman—Clara—walking towards the building.
He carried grocery bags.
And he was listening intently to her, his head tilted, his usual aloofness absent.
“I’ll keep a close eye on that project for you. This home-cooked meal won’t be for nothing.”
“How are your parents adjusting since moving here?”
“If you need anything, truly, I can come over anytime. I honed my cooking skills abroad these past few years. Perfect timing to show show them off to you today.”
…
Her voice was clear and pleasant, laced with laughter, every word poised and confident.
And Alexander Sterling, usually aloof and proud, actually responded, his low murmurs a quiet counterpoint to her chatter.
I bit my lip hard, a hot, sharp surge of irritation bubbling up in my chest.
The ink wasn’t even dry on the divorce papers, and he already had someone new seamlessly stepping into my place?
But if I didn’t remarry him… I’d lose everything and die face-down in a gutter!
Those death scenes flashed behind my eyes again like virus-infected pop-ups, relentless and horrifying.
“Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!”
A line of garish, wriggling text scrolled past my mind’s eye like a caterpillar, [~Ooooh~ Consequences of divorce~]
My whole body trembled.
The fear felt like a massive black curtain pressing down on me, suffocating me.
Ugh!
It was too terrifying!
Raw, instinctual survival crushed every other thought—pride, propriety, everything.
Gritting my teeth, I charged out from the shadows, just starting to call his name, “Al—”
Click!
The door shut.
I stared, dejected and desperate, at the unyielding, painted wood.
Suddenly, with a soft click, it opened again!!
A pair of long, elegantly tailored trousers, leading up to a familiar, imposing frame, stepped out.
I froze, my breath catching in my throat.
Alexander stood in the dimly lit hallway, the weak light carving sharp shadows across his face. His gaze, when it landed on me, was cold and clearly disturbed.
“What are you doing here?” His tone was ice, the kind that freezes the air in your lungs.
He’d always been reserved, keeping a distance from everyone.
But during our near-year of marriage, in the quiet moments when we were alone, his voice had always held a gentleness reserved just for me.
This level of frigid detachment, aimed directly at me, was a first.
My heart squeezed painfully, my voice trembling, “I… I came to see you.”
“I want… to… re-m…”
“What? Can’t hear you.” His voice was flat, challenging.
“I said remarry! I want to remarry you!” I blurted out in one frantic breath, squeezing my eyes shut as if bracing for a blow.
The murky hallway light seemed to swallow the words.
A flicker of something—shock?—crossed Alexander’s eyes, gone so fast it might have been a trick of the dimness.
He said nothing.
The air grew heavy, thick with the scent of stale hallway and the frantic drumming of my own heartbeat.
He glanced at the half-open door behind him, then deliberately pushed it shut with a soft click.
His long carried him down the steps, one deliberate pace at a time.
He wasn’t rushing, but each step carried the unspoken pressure of a gathering storm.
I held my breath, my nails digging into my palms.
The gruesome flashbacks of my gruesome death still stabbed at the edges of my consciousness.
Alexander stopped before me, an arm’s length away.
His gaze locked onto me again, deep and cold as a winter pond.
“I’m sorry, Miss Lockwood.”
His tone was flat, each word crisp.
He paused, his expression devoid of any warmth, offering only a cold, hard statement, “The Sterlings have fallen. We’re not worthy of someone like you.”
He said, not worthy…
Those two words hit my heart like shards of ice.
Humiliation washed over me in a scalding wave.
My face burned.
After the Sterlings filed for bankruptcy, when Alexander needed support the most, I’d listened to my parents and asked for a divorce.
And now, less than a week after signing the divorce papers, here I was, shamelessly begging for a “remarriage.”
It was abrupt. Offensive.
Even… it could easily make him think I was toying with his misfortune.
But…
“I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant. It’s because…” I stammered, my explanation jumbling on my tongue.
What could I possibly say?
That I’d foreseen a future where I died alone in the snow?
That leaving him meant a horrifying, premature death?
If he didn’t think I was mocking him, he’d probably just think I’d lost my mind.
Tears welled up, hot and stinging. I blinked, and they fell unexpectedly, tracing cold paths down my cheeks.
“Why the tears?” His brow furrowed slightly, a hint of impatience sharpening his voice. “Wasn’t the divorce exactly what you wanted?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed, as if he wanted to say more, but he just pressed his lips into a tight, forbidding line.
“We’re finished.”
“Go back. A princess of the East Coast elite shouldn’t be in a place like this.”
He gave a slight, dismissive nod, the conversation clearly over.
As he turned to leave, a surge of pure panic overrode everything else.
I practically threw myself forward, wrapping my arms around his waist, my voice shaking uncontrollably, “Don’t go!”
“I… I really need you!”
“After getting the papers, I’ve thought about you every day. Thought about how things were between us. I… I realized I can’t live without you. Let’s remarry! I can’t be without you!”
Through the thin fabric of his shirt, the muscles of his waist instantly tensed, radiating a sense of tightly leashed power and surprise.
He lowered his gaze to my hands clasped desperately around him.
His eyes held a complex mix of scrutiny, assessment, and something turbulent buried deep beneath the layers of ice.
After a long, suspended moment, he raised his hands and began to pry mine off, one stubborn finger at a time.
My heart leaped into my throat, choking me.
He turned his head, his dark eyes fathomless pits.
“On what grounds?” His thin lips parted slightly.
His voice was a blade dipped in ice, piercing straight to my core.
He paused, each word enunciated with brutal clarity, “What is marriage to you?”
“A tool? Something you summon and dismiss at will?” His words were deliberate, each one a cut.
“Or do you think, because Alexander Sterling is down on his luck, he’s yours to manipulate however you please, Miss Lockwood?”
“…”
Dead silence.
My mouth opened and closed several times, but no sound came out. He was right.
Yeah…
On what grounds did I have?
Seeing me utterly speechless, the last flicker of unnamed emotion in Alexander’s eyes vanished, replaced by a deep, stagnant stillness… and a profound weariness that seemed to age him before my eyes.
“Can’t answer?”
He curled his lip in a mocking half-smile that didn’t reach his eye. “Well then, remarriage—”
“Out. Of. The. Question.”
dour words, iron-clad, leaving no room for doubt.
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