Chapter 1
I was dead. At least, as far as the world knew, Quiana Whites died in that car crash; gone without a trace.
Yet here I am, alive and well, sitting in a quiet café, watching the news report on the woman who supposedly "died for love." I can't help but laugh.
Three years ago, when Colton Green and I got engaged, the whole city buzzed with excitement. The White family's heiress marrying her childhood sweetheart—what a perfect fairy-tale romance it seemed. But who would've thought the fairytale would end with the prince falling for another princess?
"Ms. Whites," the lawyer asked, adjusting his glasses. "Are you absolutely certain you want to go through with this? Once executed, you'll no longer be a White."
I nodded before signing the will.
From this moment on, Quiana Whites would be dead. Winona Sanders would be the one who lived on.
My phone rang with an unknown number. I hesitated, then picked up.
"Quiana..." Colton's voice came through, broken and thick with raw emotion that I'd never heard before. "Quiana, where are you? The doctor said your injuries were minor, so why would you throw yourself into the sea? Was it... was it something I did?"
I nearly burst out laughing. For some reason, he suddenly cared about me.
"Quiana, answer me! I know it's you. Regina told me you're still alive. Where are you?" Colton pleaded desperately.
Regina. Regina Juxton. That name made me tighten my grip on the phone.
Regina had been my rival since childhood. She stole my fiancé and drove me to my "death."
"Colton." I finally spoke, my voice so unfamiliar that I barely recognized it as my own.
"Quiana! You're actually alive. Where are you? I'm coming to get you right away," Colton cried out.
"No need," I said, gazing at the bustling traffic outside. "Quiana is dead."
Colton demanded, "What the hell are you talking about?" His voice was edged with disbelief.
"Quiana is dead," I repeated, enunciating each word with cold finality.
With that, I hung up and powered off my phone.
I pulled my new ID out of the bag. It read: [Winona Sanders, 24 years old.]
My new identity was three years younger than Quiana Whites. Just the age I wanted to be.
The café's television continued broadcasting the news. "Breaking news! Quiana Whites, heiress of Whites Group, is suspected of having jumped into the sea. Search and rescue efforts are still underway..."
The anchor's tone was calm, as if he were just reporting the weather.
But I knew that at this very moment, all of Yublary was reeling from this news. Whites Group's stock was in freefall, the Green family's engagement with the Whites family had gone up in smoke, and Regina was probably basking in her victory.
The waitress approached and asked, "Miss, would you like anything else?"
"Another Americano, no sugar," I replied.
I never used to drink coffee. Colton always said it wasn't good for girls. But now, I can drink whatever I want, without having to consider anyone else's opinion.
My phone rang again. This time, it was a landline number.
I glanced at the screen and ignored it.
The phone rang three times before I finally pressed the "answer" button.
"Quiana, you ungrateful wretch!" It was Dad's voice, filled with fury and, at the same time, despair.
He bellowed, "Do you have any idea how many people you dragged down with you? The stock has plummeted thirty points! All our partners are pulling out their investments. Where the hell are you?"
"Dad," I said softly, "I'm Winona Sanders now."
A few seconds of stunned silence ensued on the other end of the line before Dad's voice erupted in an even louder roar. "Have you lost your damn mind? Get home right now!"
"Winona Sanders doesn't know you," I said calmly. "If this is a wrong number, please hang up."
"Quiana!" he exclaimed.
I hung up and promptly blocked the number as well.
Outside, rain began to fall, raindrops splattering against the window and blurring the cityscape beyond. It reminded me of that rainy night three years ago, when I ran through a dozen blocks in the downpour just to deliver medicine to a sick Colton.
Back then, I truly believed love was the most important thing in the world.
Looking back now, I realized how naive I was.
The coffee arrived. It was so bitter it made me wince. Still, I drank it, sip by sip, until the cup was empty.
The bitterness lingered, a stark reminder that this was no dream.
Quiana Whites was truly gone. As for me—Winona Sanders—my life had only just begun.
The news on the television continued. "According to informed sources, Quiana's death may be linked to romantic entanglements. Her fiancé, Colton, has declined to comment at this time..."
I smiled, then rose to leave.
Before leaving, I left the waitress a generous tip that cost more than the coffee itself.
The old me would never have done this. She would see this as showing off her wealth. But the new me couldn't care less what others thought; I just wanted to do what pleased me.