This was the day she was supposed to meet Maeve and her family. They were going to discuss the arrangement between the Worthington and Belvedere families, a union that would bind two of the most powerful households in the country through marriage.
This was also the time when her family already hated her, so they had come up with this idea to simply send her off in an arrangement just to get rid of her. She was a problem they wanted solved, a loose end they wanted tied up and forget.
Kamilah sat upright in bed, her heart was hammering against her ribs as the reality of her situation settled over her like a cold shroud. She looked down at her hands and found them steady, the way they had been in heaven but not the way they had been in those final months of her previous life.
There were no bruises marring her skin, no purple blooms that spoke of a body betraying itself from within. No tremors shook her fingers, and no weakness made her limbs feel heavy and useless. The air in the room felt heavy and stagnant, devoid of the purity she had just left behind, and it took her a moment to recognize the scent of her own bedroom.
She glanced at the calendar on the wall and felt a cold shiver run down her spine.
This was it. The day of the arrangement being discussed, just two and a half years away from the suffering she endured in her past life. The day her parents decided she was a nuisance to be discarded, a pawn to be traded to the Belvedere family just to clear the air in their own home.
She remembered the way they had looked at her back then, with a mixture of pity and disgust, as if her very existence was an inconvenience they had tolerated for far too long. She remembered the way her mother had sighed when she walked into the room, the way her father had not even bothered to look up from his newspaper.
She remembered the way Livia had watched from the sidelines with that innocent smile, her eyes were sparkling with something that Kamilah had mistaken for kindness.
But she knew better now. She knew exactly what that smile meant.
A slow, dangerous smile spread across Kamilah’s lips as the memories of her previous life flickered through her mind like scenes from a film she had watched a thousand times.
She remembered the coldness of her marriage to Maeve, the way they had coexisted in the same house like strangers sharing a roof.
She remembered the loneliness that had consumed her, the slow decay of her body and the faster decay of her spirit. She remembered the photographs on her phone, the birthday party she had not been invited to, and the fireworks that had celebrated someone else’s happiness while she died alone in her bedroom.
And she remembered the hologram. The images of her family’s destruction, the suffering they had endured, and the deaths they had died.
She remembered Maeve, paralyzed and helpless, buried alive in wet cement while Livia watched with a smile on her face.
Kamilah stood up and walked to the mirror, her legs are steady beneath her and her body was strong and healthy in a way she had not appreciated in her first life.
She stared at the reflection of a woman who had died once and was now reborn with a purpose. The face that looked back at her was young, unlined by the illness that had ravaged her before.
Her skin was clear, her eyes were bright, and her hair was thick and lustrous. She was beautiful, she realized. She had always been beautiful, but she had never allowed herself to see it.
She had spent her whole life trying to make herself small, trying to disappear, trying to be invisible so that she would not inconvenience anyone.
She wasn’t the fragile, desperate girl who begged for a scrap of affection anymore. She was a ghost who had seen the end of the world, and she knew exactly who was holding the torch.
She knew who had lit the fire that had consumed everything she had once loved. And she knew what she had to do now.
She dressed with meticulous care, choosing a garment that was understated yet sharp. She bypassed the soft pastels and delicate fabrics that she had favored in her previous life, the colors that had made her look like a porcelain doll waiting to be shattered.
Instead, she selected a skirt in a deep, rich burgundy with a white polo that doesn’t make her look like an old lady, its cut elegant and refined without being ostentatious. The fabric was high quality but not flashy, the kind of subtle luxury that spoke of old money and quiet confidence.
She paired it with simple gold earrings and a delicate bracelet, accessories that complemented rather than competed with her appearance.
She was shedding the soft, pleading colors of her past for something that felt like armor. She was preparing for battle, and she intended to win.
As she walked toward the living room where the meeting was set to take place, she could already hear the distant, melodic laughter of Livia echoing through the corridor.
It was a sound that used to make her feel small, that used to make her shrink into herself and wonder why she could never be as bright and charming as her adopted sister.
But now, it sounded like a countdown. Every laugh, every giggle, and every tinkling note of feigned joy was one step closer to the moment when Kamilah would finally tear off the mask and reveal the monster underneath.
She paused at the top of the staircase, her hand was resting lightly on the banister as she looked down at the scene below. The foyer was filled with people, the Worthington and Belvedere families gathered together in anticipation of the arrangement that would bind them.
Her siblings were scattered around the room, some engaged in conversation, others are watching the proceedings with varying degrees of interest.
And there, at the center of it all, stood Livia.
She was dressed in a pale pink gown that made her look delicate and ethereal, her honey-colored hair falling in perfect waves past her shoulders.
She was smiling, that same innocent smile that had fooled everyone for years, her amber eyes are warm and welcoming as she spoke to one of Kamilah’s brothers. She looked like an angel, like something too pure and beautiful to exist in the mortal world.
Kamilah knew the truth now. She knew what lurked beneath that perfect facade, what darkness hid behind those sparkling eyes. She had seen the future that Livia would create, the suffering and death and destruction that would follow in her wake. And she was not going to let it happen. Not this time.
She descended the stairs slowly, each step was a statement. She did not look at her parents, though she could feel their eyes on her, and could sense their confusion as they witnessed the transformation.
They had expected a trembling girl who would follow their orders without a word, a meek creature who would accept her fate without complaint.
Instead, they were met with a woman whose posture was as rigid and refined as a marble statue, whose eyes held a fire they had never seen before.
In her previous life, Kamilah had walked down these stairs with her head bowed, her shoulders were hunched, and her entire being screaming of submission and defeat.
She had been a shadow, a ghost, a presence so faint that people had often forgotten she was even in the room. She had allowed herself to be diminished, to be overlooked, and to be treated as less than nothing.
But not this time.
When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she didn’t shrink. She stepped directly into the center of the room, her voice was clear and steady, devoid of the hesitation that had once defined her. She kept her chin level, her eyes are meeting Emelda Belvedere’s with a calm, unwavering intensity.
"It’s nice to meet the Belvedere family," she said, her voice was carrying through the room with an authority that silenced the murmured conversations. "I am Kamilah Worthington."
Her elegant and modest dress immediately caught the attention of the matriarch. Emelda Belvedere was a woman who had seen it all, who had navigated the treacherous waters of high society for decades and had emerged victorious.
She was known for her sharp tongue and sharper eyes, and for her ability to read people with a single glance and judge their worth in a heartbeat.
In their past life, Emelda had hated Kamilah. She had looked at the girl and seen weakness, seen a liability, seen someone who could be easily trampled on and discarded.
She had viewed Kamilah as a stain on the Belvedere family, a burden that her daughter, Maeve, would have to carry, a disappointment that would drag them all down.
She had favored Livia from the moment they met, charmed by the girl’s wit and beauty and social grace.
But this time, Kamilah knew she wouldn’t repeat the same mistakes. She had learned from the pain of her previous life, had grown stronger in the fire of her suffering. She was no longer the fragile, desperate girl who had allowed herself to be crushed under the weight of her family’s disdain.
Emelda’s gaze said otherwise, that her first impression on Kamilah was good. The matriarch’s eyes narrowed slightly, scanning Kamilah from head to toe with a piercing curiosity.
This was not the girl she had been told about, the quiet, unremarkable daughter who was being offered up as a sacrifice to seal a business deal. This was someone else entirely, someone who commanded attention without demanding it, and who radiated a confidence that was both intriguing and unsettling.
She felt Emelda’s gaze scanning her, not with the usual disdain, but with a piercing curiosity. In her previous life, Kamilah had been a shadow, a void of presence that Emelda found repulsive.
She had been forgettable, invisible, a nonentity that the matriarch had dismissed without a second thought. But now, Kamilah was an enigma. She looked modest, yes, but the modesty was a choice, a curated elegance that whispered of power rather than submission.
Beside them, Livia’s smile flickered for a fraction of a second. It was a small, almost imperceptible glitch in the girl’s perfect mask, but Kamilah caught it.
She had spent years studying Livia, years watching her every move and trying to understand what made her so special, why everyone loved her so much. She had learned to read the subtle shifts in Livia’s expression, the tiny tells that betrayed her true emotions beneath the flawless facade.
A thrill of satisfaction raced through Kamilah. For the first time, she wasn’t the one feeling out of place. It was Livia who looked suddenly, strangely unremarkable. The golden child had been outshone, and she knew it. The flicker of irritation in her amber eyes was proof enough.
"A pleasure to finally meet you, Ms. Worthington," Emelda replied, her voice was carrying a hint of genuine interest that had been entirely absent in the previous timeline.
The matriarch’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if trying to decipher where this version of Kamilah had come from. "You carry yourself with a grace that is... Unexpected."
Kamilah gasped with a smile, her hand rising to her chest in a gesture of modest surprise. "Oh, madam, you flatter me too much." She sat beside her father and mother, presenting herself with the grace of a Worthington heiress that made her parents and siblings a little confused by her behavior.
She could feel their eyes on her, could sense their bewilderment at the transformation. They had never seen her like this, had never witnessed the confidence that now radiated from her every movement.
They had always known her as the quiet one, the difficult one, the daughter who was more trouble than she was worth. They had not expected this.
Emelda introduced Maeve personally, her smile was wide enough to reach her ears. "This is my daughter, Maeve Ricarda."
Kamilah tried to contain her anger when she got to face Maeve again, and she kept her smile perfectly in place. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and her mind was racing with images of the future she had seen.
She remembered the way Maeve had looked in that hologram, paralyzed and helpless, her eyes were filled with tears as Livia brought her boyfriends into their bedroom.
She remembered the way Maeve had screamed as the cement poured over her face, as she struggled and fought and finally went still.
My scumbag of a wife.
The words ran through Kamilah’s head before she could stop them, a bitter echo of the life that had been stolen from her.
But unexpectedly, Maeve heard it. The woman’s head tilted slightly, her brow was furrowing as if she had caught a whisper that didn’t belong to the room.
What was that? Did I just hear someone talk? The words ran through Maeve’s head as she tried to look behind her, searching for the source of the voice.
But she found nothing. The maids were standing far from where they sat, their expressions were blank and unreadable. No one else seemed to have heard anything.
Kamilah smiled widely, her expression was polite and elegant. "Nice to meet you, Maeve. I’m Kamilah." Her voice was confident, yet soothing and welcoming, a perfect balance of warmth and professionalism. It was the kind of voice that made people want to trust her, to confide in her, to believe that she was someone worth knowing.
Emelda liked her more now. She could see it in the way the matriarch’s eyes softened, in the way her smile became more genuine. The woman who had once hated Kamilah was now intrigued by her, impressed by her composure and her grace. It was a victory, a small one, but a victory nonetheless.