Chapter 2

At some point, Xavier had fallen in love with lilies—so the engagement brooch I gave him was shaped like one.

Our brand was named Lily Heart, and I never thought twice about it.

Every year, on the anniversary of the day he'd saved me from the fire, he'd design a new lily-themed jewelry piece. I'd naively thought it was to celebrate the start of our love.

"When you pinned that lily brooch on me at the end of my last life," I said, holding Xavier's gaze, my voice soft, "were you thinking of the moment I gave it to you... Or of her—the one you didn't save back then?"

Xavier fell silent. He reached out like he wanted to hug me. "Rosalie, I know I'm sorry to you. But I can't bear to lose Lily again."

My heart felt like it was bleeding, but I forced a smile. "Xavier, we're done." I'd always hated messes, and he was stained now.

Xavier froze. Before he could speak, Lily dropped to her knees and banged her head against the floor until blood trickled down. "I'm so sorry, Ms. Simmons. It's all my fault! I wish I'd burned to death back there."

The three men's faces darkened instantly. Dylan snapped at me, "Rosalie, you have to grow out of this spoiled attitude. Do you really need everyone to revolve around you? Lily barely survived."

"Apologize," Paul said, his fists clenched as he stared at Lily—her head bleeding, her expression fragile.

"Oh, right," I scoffed. "She got a few burns, while I broke an arm and ruined my lungs. Poor her, indeed."

Then, I was slapped. I stumbled to the floor, my right arm slamming against the ground. Tears burst from my eyes from the pain.

I stared at Xavier in shock, as his usually gentle face twisted with a rage I'd never seen in two lifetimes.

"Rosalie, I've had enough of your selfishness," he yelled. "Keep acting like this, and I'll never marry you."

The three of them helped Lily up and slammed the door behind them. Paul even spat a threat over his shoulder, "Mess with Lily again, and you'll regret it."

The doctor frowned when he examined me. My fall had made my arm injury far worse. He told me my right arm might be permanently damaged, and even my hand might never work normally again.

I texted my dad, Michael Simmons, calmly: [I won't marry any of them.]

My mother, Fiona Simmons, had died when I was little. To keep me from being lonely, Michael had picked three boys, sons of families loyal to ours, to grow up with me.

They were my childhood sweethearts and my "fiancés-in-waiting." Everyone assumed I'd choose one of them for a husband. But at some point, the flower they'd kept in their hearts had stopped being a rose and become a lily.

None of them came to see me even once until I was discharged. I went home alone, pulled out the old lily brooch designs I'd drawn long ago, and tore them to shreds.

Then I picked up a paintbrush. Ignoring the pain in my right arm, I slowly started sketching a new jewelry piece.

I loved designing. In my last life, that lily brooch had won me first place in a design competition. This life, I'd win that title again—it was the start of my career, and I wasn't letting it go.

Just then, Xavier burst in. "Rosalie, how could you tell your dad you won't marry any of us? Tell me it was just out of rage." He strode over and grabbed my right hand—the one still holding the brush.

I gasped in pain. Xavier let go instinctively, his tone softening. "Don't be silly. I never said I wouldn't marry you. Just ask your dad to adopt Lily as his daughter, and I'll treat you as well as I did in our last life."

My eyes widened. I wondered if he'd turned into a retard.

When I didn't answer, Xavier snapped. "Lily's been guilty every day because of you—she even has depression. I asked you to take her as a sister to offer your chance to make amends."

I set down the brush, as if I was seeing him for the first time.

"Why are you blaming her depression on me? I'm the one who got badly hurt in the fire. I'm the one who had no one to look after me," I said.

"But you're Ms. Simmons. You have everything," he shot back. "Lily has nothing."

Gone was his gentleness. He grabbed my injured right arm and pinned me down, tearing at my clothes like a wild animal.

"You just want me to marry you, don't you? Fine, I'll fuck you right here. Then you'll finally be satisfied," he said.

I fought back, screaming until the servants rushed in. "Throw him out!" I shrieked, clutching my clothes.

Xavier stared in disbelief—he'd never been thrown out of my house before. In my last life, I'd treated him so well that everyone in the Simmons household had been polite to him. "Rosalie, don't come begging me to marry you later."

I huddled into myself, and in the middle of the mess, I finally broke down sobbing. Then my phone lit up with a text from Michael. I glanced at it—and felt like I'd been plunged into ice.