Chapter 3

The company cafeteria buzzed with the usual lunchtime chatter as Helena and I found a table near the window. She was still thanking me profusely for helping her with the filing system, her enthusiasm refreshing after years of Susan's calculated 'friendship.'

"Really, Marie, you're a lifesaver. I was so lost this morning!" Helena said, arranging her salad neatly on her tray.

I smiled, still marveling at how healthy I felt, how easily I could breathe without pain shooting through my chest. "It's nothing. Everyone deserves a friendly face on their first week."

My eyes drifted across the cafeteria, cataloging familiar faces—colleagues who had sent perfunctory get-well cards in my previous life, others who hadn't bothered at all. It was surreal seeing them like this, oblivious to the future I had lived through.

"Don't look now," Helena whispered suddenly, "but Dean Anderson is heading this way."

I followed her gaze to see a tall man with warm brown eyes and an easy smile approaching our table. Dean Anderson—the CEO's son, though few people knew that fact. In my previous life, we'd barely interacted before my illness took me away from the company. I remembered hearing he eventually took over as CEO after his father retired.

"Ladies," he greeted, his voice deeper than I expected. "Mind if I join you?"

Helena immediately scooted over, making room. "Not at all, Mr. Anderson."

"Please, just Dean," he insisted, setting down his tray. His eyes met mine with unexpected warmth. "Marie Lewis, right? From Creative?"

I nodded, surprised he knew my name. "That's right."

"I've seen your work on the Westfield campaign. Impressive stuff." His compliment seemed genuine, not the empty flattery I'd grown accustomed to from Howard.

"Thank you," I replied, studying him with new interest. Had he always noticed my work, even in my previous timeline?

Dean took a bite of his sandwich before continuing. "Actually, I was wondering if you might be interested in joining me for dinner this weekend? I'd love to pick your brain about some ideas for the Richardson account."

Before I could respond, a familiar voice cut through our conversation like a knife.

"There you are, Marie! I've been looking everywhere for you!"

Susan appeared beside our table, her designer outfit impeccable as always, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. She placed a possessive hand on my shoulder.

"Sorry to interrupt," she said to Dean, though she didn't sound sorry at all. "But Marie and I already have plans this weekend. Girls' night, remember?"

I stared at her, momentarily speechless. We had no such plans—this was Susan's typical behavior, inserting herself whenever male attention was directed at me rather than her. In my previous life, I had always acquiesced, letting her manipulate situations to her advantage.

Not this time.

Dean looked between us, his expression polite but disappointed. "Another time, perhaps," he said, standing up. "It was nice meeting you both. Helena, good luck with your first week."

As he walked away, I felt a flash of anger. Susan was already playing her games, and I had nearly fallen into the same old patterns.

"I don't remember making plans with you this weekend," I said, keeping my voice level as I turned to Susan.

Her eyes widened slightly, unused to any resistance from me. "Well, I... I thought we'd do something fun, like we always do. You know, shopping, maybe a movie?"

"Next time, let me make my own social decisions, Susan," I said firmly. "I appreciate the thought, but I can speak for myself."

Helena looked between us, clearly sensing the tension but wisely staying silent.

Susan's smile faltered for just a moment before she recovered. "Of course, sweetie. I just thought I was doing you a favor. Dean Anderson has quite the reputation, you know." She lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Office romances never end well."

"I'll keep that in mind," I replied, not bothering to point out that she was currently dating Howard, who also worked at Meridian. "Was there something else you needed?"

Dismissed so firmly, Susan had no choice but to retreat. "I'll call you later," she promised, though her eyes had hardened. She wasn't used to me standing up for myself.

As she walked away, Helena let out a low whistle. "Wow. Is she always so..."

"Controlling?" I supplied. "Yes, but I'm working on not letting her be."

Helena smiled approvingly. "Good for you. And for what it's worth, I think you should definitely take Dean up on his dinner invitation next time. He seems nice."

I watched Dean across the cafeteria, now sitting with some executives from Marketing. In my previous life, I had been so blinded by Howard's attention that I never noticed other possibilities. What else had I missed?

---

"Hold still," Helena instructed, carefully applying eyeshadow to my lids. "I promise, when I'm done, you won't recognize yourself."

It was Saturday evening, and my apartment was strewn with discarded outfits as Helena helped me prepare for our ten-year high school reunion. In my previous life, I had attended in a forgettable black dress, standing in Susan's shadow as she flirted with every eligible bachelor—including Howard.

"Are you sure this isn't too much?" I asked, feeling the weight of false eyelashes—something I'd never worn before.

Helena stepped back to assess her work. "Trust me, I used to do makeup for photography shoots in college. This is going to be perfect for the lighting at event venues." She grinned mischievously. "Besides, don't you want to make an entrance?"

I did, but for different reasons than Helena suspected. This reunion was where Howard and Susan had first connected in my previous life. I needed to be present to ensure history repeated itself—just with a different ending this time.

When Helena finally allowed me to look in the mirror, I gasped. The woman staring back at me was radiant. My normally plain features had been transformed into something striking. Helena had chosen a deep emerald dress that hugged my figure perfectly, making me look elegant rather than trying too hard.

"See?" Helena said proudly. "You're going to be the most beautiful woman there."

For the first time in years—in either timeline—I felt beautiful. And powerful.

---

The reunion was held at our old high school gymnasium, transformed with twinkling lights and black and gold decorations. As Helena and I walked in, I felt heads turn in our direction. My former classmates did double-takes, clearly not recognizing me at first glance.

Susan was already there, holding court in the center of the room. She wore a tight red dress that screamed for attention, her hair and makeup flawless as always. When she spotted me, her practiced smile froze momentarily.

"Marie?" she called, making her way over. "Is that you? You look... different."

I could see her mental calculations—she had expected to shine tonight, to be the center of attention. Instead, people were looking at me with newfound appreciation.

"Helena helped me get ready," I explained, introducing them properly. "She has quite the talent."

Susan's eyes narrowed slightly as she assessed Helena. "Charmed," she said, though her tone suggested otherwise. "Marie, Howard just arrived. Come say hello."

And there he was—the man who had made my life a living hell, who had conspired with my best friend to hasten my death. Howard looked exactly as I remembered from our early days: handsome in a conventional way, with a confident smile that I once mistook for charm rather than arrogance.

As Susan dragged him over, I steeled myself. I had to play this carefully.

"Howard, you remember Marie from college, right?" Susan said, her arm possessively linked through his.

His eyes widened as he took in my transformation. "Marie? Wow, you look amazing."

"Thank you," I replied coolly, offering nothing more.

Susan, clearly unsettled by his admiration, pulled him closer and kissed him deeply, putting on a show for everyone watching. "Howard and I are officially dating now," she announced loudly. "We're so in love, aren't we, baby?"

Howard, never one to resist being the center of attention, played along enthusiastically. "Absolutely," he agreed, his hand sliding inappropriately low on Susan's back. "We're perfect together."

They were laying it on thick, clearly expecting me to react with jealousy or hurt. Instead, I simply smiled and raised my champagne glass.

"Congratulations to you both," I said sincerely. After all, this was exactly what I wanted—Susan taking the poisoned chalice right out of my hands.

Their matching expressions of confusion were priceless. This wasn't the script they had expected to follow. Susan had always defined herself in opposition to me—being desired when I was rejected, winning when I lost. My indifference left her without a role to play.

As I turned away to join Helena at the refreshment table, I caught a glimpse of Howard watching me with renewed interest. Just as I had anticipated. Men like Howard always wanted what they couldn't have.

The pieces were falling into place perfectly.