Chapter 1

I, Charlotte Evans, was promised to Henry Warren since we were children.

Before he left for the war, he took my hands in his and said, "Charlotte, wait for me. I'll come back for you and marry you with all the honor and grandeur you deserve."

For three years, I waited. Then he returned, a war hero. That day, dressed in white from head to veil, I stepped into the Marquess's estate not as a visitor, but as its future mistress, escorted by a procession that spoke of honor.

But in the middle of our wedding ceremony, Henry quietly brought out an urn.

"Charlotte," he said, voice low. "Lydia Hart saved my life on the battlefield. I promised her to marry her, even if she died. Would you... allow her to join us in the rites today?"

My heart ached, but how could I refuse a dead woman who had given him back to me? A dead person was no real rival. So I agreed.

That was my first mistake. Henry stood before the gathered nobility and declared Lydia Hart his true, rightful wife. And me, merely the secondary spouse.

Three days after our wedding, Lydia appeared at the estate gates. Alive. She claimed she'd survived the fall from the cliff and had been rescued miles away.

Only then did I understand that it was all a scheme.

Lydia was the illegitimate daughter of the Minister of Revenue, a secret that would have barred her from marrying a Marquess. So they made me the stepping stone.

After she moved in, Henry doted on her. They raised children, built a family, lived a storybook life.

I fell ill, forgotten in a cold and remote courtyard, and drew my last breath as the Warren family's wealth and power reached its peak.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back at my wedding.

*****

"The bride is leaving home and entering the carriage!"

The matchmaker's ceremonial cry jolted me awake. Suddenly, I knew I'd time-traveled back to the day I was to marry Henry.

My mother draped the white bridal veil over me. "My little Charlotte, all grown up."

I clutched her hand, my nose stinging, eyes burning.

In my previous life, when Henry married me as his second wife, my mother was so heartbroken she coughed blood and never recovered.

When my father heard I'd died alone in that remote courtyard, his hair turned white overnight.

While the Warrens basked in glory, no one cared about my death. Only my parents, forced to bury their own child, aged drastically. Soon, they passed away from despair

Now, seeing my mother alive and well, I hugged her tightly. "I'll be all right, Mom. I promise."

She wiped her tears. "Don't talk like that. Of course you will. My daughter is meant for a good life.

"If Henry ever treats you poorly, come straight home. Your father and I will always be here for you."

My brother helped me into the carriage. "Charlotte, if he ever wrongs you, come tell me. I'll beat him up for you."

Leaning against him, I whispered something through the veil before climbing into the carriage bound for the Marquess's estate.

Henry held my hand, leading me into the main hall.

"Now we witness the happiness of—" the priest called out, guiding us through the wedding ritual.

"Wait," Henry cut in.

All the guests watched as he brought out an urn.

"Charlotte," he said, voice solemn. "When I was stationed at the border, a woman gave her life to save mine.

"I promised I would marry her, make her a part of the Warren family, so she would have somewhere to rest in peace.

"It's just an urn, but I want her to join our ceremony today and to honor her as my first wife. Would that be all right?"

Before I could speak, whispers broke out among the guests. "What's going on, bringing an urn to the wedding ceremony?"

"She saved his life, didn't she? Dead anyway. What's a title worth?"

"But if she's the first wife... what does that make Charlotte? A concubine?"

Hearing this, Henry turned to me quickly. "Charlotte, you wouldn't be a concubine. Don't worry.

"This is in name only. You'd be my secondary wife, but here in the Marquess's household, you'd be the only lady in charge."

Secondary wife. What a joke. Everyone knew it was just a pretty name, no different from a concubine in the end.

In my previous life, I'd actually believed him. I'd felt grateful to Lydia for saving Henry, and played the fool by nodding along.

Three days from now, Lydia would appear at the front gate.

I knew exactly how this would play out because that was how it went last time. Lydia came knocking, saying she'd survived that fall off the cliff, and now she was back to take what was hers.

Henry would try to explain, "Everyone saw at the wedding. Lydia is my first wife, you're the second. It's just a title. In my heart, you're the same."

But from that day on, everyone in the Marquess's house referred to her as the Lady of the House. At every event, she would be the one at his side.

I would be treated no better than a concubine. Laughed at, looked down on. The dignified daughter of the Imperial Tutor turned into the capital's favorite joke.

I lifted my veil and met Henry's startled eyes, then looked straight at the urn.

Back from the dead and given another chance, I was not falling for it again.