From His Shadow To A Blackwood

I was on the edge of a cliff, tied to Isabelle, the ghost who had haunted my marriage before it even began.

Jackson, my fianc, stood a safe distance away, silent for a long time. In the end, he chose me, the girl hed grown up with.

It was the wrong choice.

Less than three days later, they pulled Isabelles body from the sea. Her clothes were shredded, her face unrecognizable.

Jackson never showed his grief, not outwardly. But I knew. In the quiet, hollow spaces of our life together, I could feel it. He hated me for it.

For the next ten years of our cold, calculated marriagea merger of families, not heartshe made sure I felt that hate. The late nights, the string of affairs plastered across gossip sites. I became the designated laughingstock of New Yorks elite, the woman pointed at and whispered about at charity galas. The abandoned wife. Through it all, he watched with indifferent eyes.

I thought we would stay like that, locked in our mutual torment until we were old and gray.

But then came the research expedition to Antarctica. An extreme blizzard, an avalanche. In the final, roaring moments before the world turned white, Jacksonthe man who had despised me for a decadeused the last of his strength to shove me toward safety.

He was swallowed by the ice and snow.

As his life faded, he smiled, a look of profound release on his face. His voice was a wisp of air.

"Liv," he breathed, "what I owed you it's paid."

"Now I can finally be with Isabelle."

"Next life please, stay away from us."

I nodded, tears freezing on my cheeks, my heart turning to ash.

And then I opened my eyes.

Back on the edge of the cliff.

1

The wind howled, a physical force against my eardrums. Just like before, I was tied to Isabelle, the abyss yawning below our feet. The kidnapper was already laying out the choice for Jackson.

One is the girl you grew up with, your little shadow. The other is the one that got away. Make a choice, Mr. Croft. The other one goes for a swim with the fishes.

I could hear the sick amusement in his voice, the thrill of a cat toying with a mouse.

Jackson stood beyond the danger zone, a statue carved from indecision.

His mother, Eleanor, was frantic beside him. "Save Olivia! Jackson, what are you even hesitating for? Her parents died saving your father! The Crofts do not forget a debt like that!"

"Save Olivia, now!"

Still, Jackson was silent.

I knew why. His soul was screaming to save Isabelle. She was the great lost love of his life, the dream he never got over. In our last life, even after she was gone, he kept a part of his heart cordoned off for her, a sacred ground I was never allowed to tread upon.

He only chose me because of the duty, the debt his mother had shackled him with.

The kidnapper was losing his patience. He brandished a remote connected to the unstable plank beneath our feet. "The sea breeze is picking up, Mr. Croft. My thumb might slip. If you don't decide soon, these two lovely ladies are going to take the plunge together."

We stared at each other across the wind-whipped distance.

Jacksons eyes were on me, but what I saw in them was a reflection of his own torment, a pain so profound it was about to spill over.

"I choose O"

He was about to say my name, just like last time.

I jerked my head up, and with every ounce of strength in my body, I screamed, "SAVE ISABELLE!"

Jacksons head snapped up.

His eyes were wide with pure, unadulterated disbelief.

It made sense. Since we were kids, I was the one who threw a tantrum if I didnt get the first piece of candy, the shiniest toy. Id learned early to demand to be his priority. The thought of me willingly handing him over to another womanto Isabelle, of all peoplewas unthinkable.

Everyone in our circle knew my deepest insecurity, my most profound jealousy, was reserved for her.

Jackson and I had grown up in each others pockets. From the moment I understood what love was, I believed he was mine. Id spent my teenage years systematically driving away any girl who got too close.

But Isabelle was different. She was the first girl hed ever truly loved.

His forever girl.

I had been powerless against that. What I called hatred for her was really just a bone-deep fear.

The cold, salty air hit me, making me sway.

I screamed it again, my voice clear and final this time. "Save Isabelle."

Don't hesitate, Jackson.

Go. Save her.

I won't be in your way this time. I don't want your hate to be the story of my life again.

In the end, Jackson pulled strings and paid a king's ransom.

For Isabelle.

As he carried her trembling form away, he never once looked back at me. From my angle, I could just catch the profile of his face, and on it, a clear, unmistakable look of relief.

I tried to smile, but all I tasted was the cold, bitter salt of my own tears.

A lifetime of devotion.

It hadn't been enough to earn a single backward glance.

The rescue team arrived faster than I expected. Just as the kidnappers were preparing to move me, SWAT descended on the cliffside like ghosts emerging from the mist.

A flicker of suspicion crossed my mind. If law enforcement was this efficient, why had Isabelle died so horribly in our last life?

But the thought was swept away as my best friend, Sophie, launched herself at me, a blur of motion and terrified sobs. She clung to me like her life depended on it. "Liv! You scared the hell out of me! If something happened to you, what would I do?"

The ropes were cut from my wrists. I hugged her back, patting her shoulder. "I'm okay, Soph. I'm okay."

Sophie was shaking with rage, pointing back toward the path Jackson had taken. "That bastard! I can't believe he actually chose that bitch Isabelle!"

"He left his own fiance for some manipulative shrew!"

Yes. Fiance.

By morning, the headlines would be everywhere: Croft Heir Abandons Fiance on Cliffside for Old Flame.

It would be the final nail in the coffin of my reputation, cementing my status as the joke of the Upper East Side. A joke Id written for myself, really. In my previous life, I was always the one forcing photos of us, manufacturing a grand love story that never existed.

Its pathetic, looking back.

Real love doesn't need an audience. You only show off the things you're terrified you don't really have.

Amid the chaos of the crime scene being processed, a figure in a black trench coat caught my eye. He was there and gone in a flash.

I narrowed my eyes.

I was sure of it. Over six-foot-three, an aura of quiet authority that demanded attention. In this city, that description fit only one man.

Ethan Blackwood. The head of the powerful Blackwood family.

2

Late that night, Sophie insisted on taking me back to the Croft estate.

The butler informed us that when Jackson returned with Isabelle, his mother, Eleanor, had erupted in a fury. She hadn't used a whip, but her punishment was just as severe. She'd frozen his personal assets and banished him to the gatehouse.

He was to stay there, without access to his accounts or his cars, until he understood the gravity of what he had done.

But I knew Jackson. He wouldnt think hed done anything wrong. Hed saved the woman he loved. In his mind, relief would far outweigh any guilt.

After a decade of marriage, I knew him all too well.

And I truly didn't blame him anymore.

I went to see Eleanor, to try and calm her down. My attempt backfired. It only made her more emotional. She pulled me into a fierce hug, her own eyes filling with tears. She apologized over and over for Jackson, saying shed failed as a mother, that she had let me down.

"Olivia, you listen to me," she said, her voice trembling with anger. "I have disciplined that boy, and I will not go easy on him this time!"

She squeezed my hand. "He has lost his mind! I have told him for years that Isabelle girl has a conniving heart. She will never be welcome in the Croft family!"

"And he dared," she seethed, "he dared to leave you to die for that harpy!"

She gripped my hands tighter. "Don't you be sad, Liv. I will force him to get on his knees and beg for your forgiveness. I'll make him swear an oath to never see that wretched girl again!"

Eleanor's unwavering loyalty to me made my nose sting.

After my parents died, I was brought to live with the Crofts. In all those years, I never once felt like an outsider, never had to walk on eggshells. That was all because of Eleanor. She treated me like her own daughter, often with more affection than she showed Jackson.

When I was just a teenager, Id naively confessed that I had a crush on "Jackie," and she had immediately set the wheels in motion for our engagement. In her mind, if I wanted it, she would move heaven and earth to give it to me.

I sniffed, my voice thick. "Thank you, Eleanor."

"But it was my choice. I told him to save Isabelle."

I looked down, gathering the courage to say what I'd known I must since the moment I woke up on that cliff.

"Eleanor I want to call off the engagement."

The words dropped into the silent room like a bomb. Both Sophie and Eleanor stared at me, stunned.

Everyone knew I was pathologically in love with Jackson. I'd been his shadow since we were kids, impossible to shake off. At my twentieth birthday party, when someone jokingly asked for my wish, I'd declared it to a room full of New York's most powerful people: My only wish is to marry Jackson Croft.

Its been so long. I cant remember the look on Jacksons face when I said it.

I just remember it wasnt a happy one.

How ironic. I should have known then. He never wanted me.

Clinging, begging, giving him every part of myselfnone of it worked.

You can't force someone to love you.

Worse, I'd used Eleanor's love for me as a weapon, forcing him into a marriage he never wanted. I never once considered his feelings.

No wonder he despised me.

Thank God, this time, I could still fix it.

After I pleaded, nearly getting on my knees myself, Eleanor finally, tearfully, agreed.

Armed with the freedom Jackson had always craved, I went to the gatehouse.

The Jackson of this world, at twenty-six, knelt on the cold marble floor, his posture ramrod straight. His lips were pale, but his jawline was as sharp as ever in the dim light.

This version of him wasnt yet poisoned by a decade of resentment. When he looked at me, there was genuine remorse in his eyes.

"Liv, I'm sorry. I"

I shook my head, my voice calm. "It's not your fault, Jackie."

Jackson flinched.

It had been years, so many years, since I had called him that, so easily and without an edge of bitterness. Probably not since the day I decided I had to marry him.

He frowned slightly.

But I gave him a genuine smile, one of release, completely free of shadows. I was stepping back, once and for all, into the role of the little sister.

"I was the one who was wrong all this time, forcing a relationship that wasn't meant to be. I caused you so much trouble."

"It won't happen again."

"I just came from seeing your mother. I asked her to cancel our engagement."

When the words "cancel our engagement" left my lips, the composure in Jackson's eyes finally shattered.

He stared at me, his voice flat and certain. "You're just saying that to punish me."

I shook my head again.

I didnt understand. Shouldnt he be relieved? Relieved that I was no longer his problem? Relieved that he was finally free to be with Isabelle?

But he just stared at me, his gaze deep and unreadable. He closed his eyes. "Fine," he said, his voice low.

And that was it.

I turned and walked away.

Without an ounce of regret.

For us, in this life, this was the best possible ending.

3

That weekend, Sophie organized a "good riddance" party for me. Just a small group of our closest friends.

Halfway through the night, the party was crashed. Isabelle, pushed forward by her shrewd older sister, appeared before me to offer a timid thank you.

She still looked terrified of me.

"Olivia about the other day thank you."

The whole table went quiet. Everyone exchanged glances, waiting for the fireworks. They were all expecting me to tear her to shreds, just like I always did. I was famous for my public tirades against her, calling her a manipulative snake, accusing her of trying to steal Jackson.

But this time, I just calmly lifted my glass.

I looked at the woman my husband had spent a lifetime dreaming of and gave a small, wry smile. "Don't thank me. You were the one he wanted to save."

"If you want to thank someone, thank him."

Isabelle glanced up, studying my face, as if she couldn't believe I was letting her off so easily.

At that exact moment, a waiter rushed by with a tureen of steaming soup.

Isabelle and I were standing closest to his path.

There was a sudden, sharp gasp from her, and the entire contents of the tureen sloshed over her delicate arm and dress.

The room exploded into chaos.

Everyone looked at me, their expressions a mixture of suspicion and knowing confirmation.

I lowered my eyes.

Here we go again.

Always finding myself in these impossible situations because of her.

And just like always, Jackson appeared as if summoned.

He stormed into the private dining room, his face a thundercloud.

"Liv," he bit out, his voice dangerously low. "I thought what you said on the cliff was real. I thought you meant it."

In his arms, Isabelle was sobbing, on the verge of fainting from the pain. Her arm was already blistering, turning an angry red. It looked bad enough to scar.

I laughed.

I couldn't help it. The sheer absurdity of it all. The fact that Isabelle would go this far, would burn her own skin, just to frame me.

But to Jackson, my laugh must have sounded like the cruel cackle of a villain whod just gotten away with it.

He stalked toward me, his hand shooting out to grab my wrist.

Sophie tried to intervene, but Jackson's security guard moved to block her.

A sharp, blinding pain shot up my arm.

My wrist was bent at an unnatural angle.

God, it hurts

It felt dislocated.

I bit down hard on my lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing me cry out.

Sophie was shaking with fury. "Jackson! What the hell is wrong with you? Are you even a man?" she shrieked. "You let this venomous bitch play you like a fiddle over and over again!"

She scanned the room. "Did anyone see what happened? Does anyone here dare to say that Olivia was the one who spilled that soup?"

Silence. No one dared to get involved.

Jackson just sneered at Sophie. "I may not know Isabelle, but you think I don't know Olivia?"

I pulled Sophie back, stepping in front of Jackson myself.

I looked him straight in the eye. "What do you know about me, Jackson?"

"That I'm cruel?"

"That I'm incapable of letting anyone else have a sliver of happiness?"

These were the words hed used to describe me in our last life. The epitaph hed mentally written for me.

His eyes were filled with disgust. "Aren't you?" he shot back.

I shook my head.

My gaze shifted to the weeping Isabelle.

If my wrist didn't hurt so much, I would have applauded. Applauded this blind, lovesick fool who had managed to fall for the same trick in two separate lifetimes.

A dark curiosity sparked within me. I wondered what would happen if he ever saw the real Isabelle, the one behind the fragile, tear-stained mask.

Would he spend the rest of his life regretting what he was doing to me right now?

Jacksons personal doctor arrived quickly. He had the doctor see to Isabelle first, completely ignoring me as I stood there, pale and sweating, cold sweat beading on my forehead.

Today, he was determined to teach me a lesson.

He stepped closer, his fingers brushing my cheek, a gesture he used to use when I was a child and had misbehaved.

But his eyes were ice.

"Liv," he said, his voice soft but lethal. "Has living with the Crofts made you so comfortable that you've forgotten your place?"

"If so, then I'll teach you myself. When you do something wrong, there are always consequences."

4

Jackson wanted me to serve tea to Isabelle as a formal apology.

I let out a sharp, incredulous laugh.

"Why don't you just break this wrist too, Jackie?"

"I could die from the pain right here, tonight, and I would still never apologize for something I didn't do."

A heavy silence descended on the room. We stood in a standoff, neither willing to back down.

It was Isabelle who broke the tension.

She leaned weakly against Jacksons arm, her eyes brimming with tears. "Jackie, please, let it go I'm sure Olivia didn't mean to"

Her words were gasoline on a fire.

Jackson's expression darkened further. "You're still as stubborn as ever, Liv."

He walked over to Sophie, nodding to his men to restrain her.

My blood ran cold.

Sophie was my only true friend, my sister in all but blood.

Jackson knew my weak spot, and he was pressing on it with surgical precision. He wouldn't even investigate, wouldn't ask a single question. He had already declared me guilty.

He was giving me a choice.

Apologize, or watch Sophie suffer. For every minute I refused, it would get worse for her.

I knew he wasn't bluffing. I knew the man behind the polished, charming CEO persona. He was ruthless.

"Time's up," Jackson said, his voice quiet but echoing with menace.

Waves of pain pulsed from my wrist.

I watched his men move toward Sophie, and finally, I broke.

"I'll apologize."

Sophie, her mouth covered, was struggling, muffled cries escaping.

I bowed my head.

The humiliation was a physical weight, crushing me. My throat felt like it was lined with sandpaper.

"Jackson," I croaked. "I apologize."

I walked towards Isabelle, my eyes fixing on the massive floor-to-ceiling window behind her. Outside, the lights of the city glittered, a dazzling, indifferent dreamscape.

I couldn't remember how long ago it was. Right after my parents died, when I first came to the Croft estate. I was homesick but too scared to cry where anyone could see me. I would sneak out to a hidden corner of the garden to let my tears fall in silence.

One night, under a starless sky, Jackson found me.

He piggybacked me all the way back to the warm, glowing mansion.

He'd told me, "Next time you want to cry, you come find me. I'll always have a shoulder for you."

He'd told me, "Anyone who makes my Liv cry, I'll make sure they never smile again."

The promises of a boy, still echoing in my ears, while the man stood before me, a stranger.

The tears Id been holding back finally broke free.

I had been so foolish.

I thought that even if we didn't have love, we had history. We had fifteen years of shared memories.

I choked on a sob, forcing the words out, severing the last tie between us.

"You never believed me."

"In your heart, I'm always the villain. I'm always the one hurting Isabelle."

"Fine. I accept it."

"But from this moment on, you, Jackson Croft, are not my brother anymore."

Not my lover.

Not my family.

"We're done. There is nothing left between us."

As I stood there, shaking with sobs, I saw something flicker in Jackson's eyes. A moment of hesitation.

I ignored it.

I bent my waist, preparing to utter the lie, to give him the apology he demanded.

But a deep, magnetic voice cut through the tension.

"It seems I've come at a bad time."

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