Chapter 1
"I've loved you with all my heart for nine lifetimes, only to suffer nine times of soul-piercing death. Adrian, it's time for me to live a different life and play by my new rules."
When the icy grip of death claimed me once more, I awoke to find myself back on our wedding night. As Adrian Blackwood approached with that familiar mix of disdain and predatory desire, I didn't tremble in tears or descend into hysteria as I had in the past nine lives.
Instead, a cold, knowing smile played on my lips.
I gently hooked my arms around Adrian's neck. Meeting his stunned gaze, I pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips.
"Adrian" I breathed, my words soft as a lover's sigh, yet every syllable was laced with ice and hatred. "Let the game begin. This time, I'll make the first move."
The air was thick with the opulent blend of champagne and roses.
The dazzling light from the crystal chandelier stung my just-opened eyes, making me blink against the glare.
The luxurious silk sheets beneath me felt slick and cold, like the scales of a venomous serpent.
And above me loomed Adrian's face—impossibly handsome, almost ethereal, yet every line etched with disdain and impatience.
This scene was familiar.
All too familiar, indeed.
It was so familiar that I could recall, with painful clarity, all the agony this man had brought me in each of my past nine lives.
The first time, I took a bullet for him. My white dress bloomed crimson with blood, but Adrian just watched coldly and said, "Lila, don't stain my carpet."
For the third time, Adrian slapped a psychiatric evaluation against my face—"schizophrenia" scrawled across it—just because his beloved Vivian Whitmore said I was crazy. He sent me into that white hell, leaving me to be tortured to death.
The fifth time...
The seventh time...
And for the ninth time, just not long ago, Adrian had also pinned me down. But instead of unbuttoning my clothes, his hands clamped around my throat in a death grip.
He spat, "Lila Sheridan, a woman like you pollutes my world just by breathing."
The suffocating agony, the sickening crunch of breaking bones, the soul-chilling cold as my spirit was torn away...
Nine lifetimes, nine deaths—all caused by Adrian and his beloved Vivian.
Adrian was the heir to the most powerful family in the city.
He was both my husband and my grim reaper.
Now, the tenth cycle began.
His eyes were fathomless as a frozen abyss, brimming with open disdain and predatory desire.
When they locked onto my face again, I didn't react the way I used to. No terrified screams, no shrinking away, no tears or desperate pleas.
I looked at Adrian as if he were a block of wood.
No, he was worse than that. At least a block of wood couldn't inflict agony.
His brows knitted slightly. He seemed surprised by my composure.
"What, done pretending?" Adrian sneered arrogantly, his fingers provocatively tracing my collarbone. The icy touch sent an involuntary shiver down my spine.
In my previous lifetimes, his touch would make me tremble, burning with humiliation.
But now, that fleeting chill was barely a whisper compared to the glacial void in my heart.
Slowly, I raised my hand.
My fingertips were ice-cold, imbued with the stillness of one who had just crawled back from the abyss of death.
A flicker of wariness crossed Adrian's eyes, quickly replaced by deeper mockery. Did he think I was about to resist? Or was he expecting me to play that old game of hard to get?
How wrong he was.
My fingers ghosted along Adrian's chiseled jawline.
His entire body went rigid in an instant.
For the first time, the man who had always regarded the world with haughty disdain seemed a bit... stunned.
Yes, stunned.
It was like seeing a docile rabbit suddenly bare its fangs.
Then, I hooked my arms around Adrian's neck.
Deliberately, I closed the distance between us.
Our breaths mingled as I caught the scent of his expensive cedarwood cologne, laced with a faint trace of alcohol.
And, almost hidden beneath it all, the barest whisper of another woman's perfume.
It must be Vivian. She always drenched herself in that gardenia perfume, claiming it was 'the fragrance of purity.'
Huh, purity.
How ironic.
As Adrian's gaze froze in shock, I subtly tilted my head, my lips precisely brushing the corner of his mouth.
A feather-light kiss, yet one that carried a chill cutting to the bone.
It was like a snowflake landing on scorching iron.
It sparked a silent hiss, an invisible hint of tension.
"Adrian," I murmured, my voice soft as a lover's whisper, yet every word carrying the icy hatred of nine lifetimes. "I'm back."
He abruptly shoved me away, as if my touch had contaminated him.
The thing that flashed across his eyes... Was that a flicker of panic?
"Lila, what kind of game are you playing now?!" Adrian growled hoarsely, his voice thick with indignant rage.
I reclined back onto the plush bed, propping myself up on one elbow as I regarded him with a languid glance.
My long hair fanned out across the pristine white sheets, a striking spill of paint against untouched snow.
Then, I smiled.
It was the kind of bewitching smile only someone who had died nine times and seen through every illusion could wear.
"Games?" I tilted my head, my eyes holding a chilling blend of innocence and cruelty. "Isn't this exactly what you wanted? It's our wedding night, after all. Shouldn't we do something as husband and wife?"
I deliberately paused, savoring the blazing fury in his eyes and that subtle crack in his composure.
Yes, a crack.
I knew this man inside out.
Adrian was born to rule, accustomed to absolute control.
My obedience made him feel entitled to walk all over me.
My defiance only ever amused him, like he was just toying with a rebellious pet.
But my composure, my abnormality, and I made the first move...
They were like a needle that pierced through the carefully constructed facade he maintained, shattering his illusion of control.
"This time," I deliberately sat up, letting the silk strap of my nightgown slip off. My smooth shoulders were exposed, but I was unbothered. My gaze locked on him as I said firmly, "We play by my rules.
"Don't you love to play-act the devoted heir?
"Fine, I'll let you have your little performance."
"But," my smile deepened with wicked amusement, "I'll take the first move.
"And if you cry—well, that's not my problem."