Twenty-Four Hours to Live Again

Twenty-Four Hours to Live Again

Gavin

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Eleanor Vanderbilt, the scion of a powerful dynasty, found herself in a moment of gilded tradition, presented with a curated selection of aristocratic bachelors, poised to make a choice that would shape her future. Yet, as her fingers hovered over the portrait of Ethan Hayes, the man her heart once chose, a searing flash of blinding light propelled her into a terrifying past life, revealing the unimaginable truth: this charming fiancé had callously condemned her to a brutal death. She vividly remembered every agonizing detail: abandoned on a freezing Manhattan skyscraper rooftop, a blade against her neck, Ethan's dismissive laughter echoing as she desperately begged for help, enduring hourly cuts and slow bleed-out for twenty-four horrific hours until her life, and the innocent one newly growing within her, agonizingly slipped away. The profound injustice of his calculated betrayal, the soul-shattering cruelty concealed beneath his polished facade, fuelled an unyielding fury that demanded retribution and a desperate understanding of why her closest confidant became her executioner. Now, miraculously granted a second chance on the very day it all went wrong, Ellie, armed with searing memories and an iron will, defiantly rejects her predetermined tragic destiny and, instead, chooses Jackson "Jax" Knight – the family's disowned "black sheep" and the last person to offer her a flicker of hope – determined to rewrite her past and carve out a path of vengeance and true survival.

Introduction

Eleanor Vanderbilt, the scion of a powerful dynasty, found herself in a moment of gilded tradition, presented with a curated selection of aristocratic bachelors, poised to make a choice that would shape her future.

Yet, as her fingers hovered over the portrait of Ethan Hayes, the man her heart once chose, a searing flash of blinding light propelled her into a terrifying past life, revealing the unimaginable truth: this charming fiancé had callously condemned her to a brutal death.

She vividly remembered every agonizing detail: abandoned on a freezing Manhattan skyscraper rooftop, a blade against her neck, Ethan's dismissive laughter echoing as she desperately begged for help, enduring hourly cuts and slow bleed-out for twenty-four horrific hours until her life, and the innocent one newly growing within her, agonizingly slipped away.

The profound injustice of his calculated betrayal, the soul-shattering cruelty concealed beneath his polished facade, fuelled an unyielding fury that demanded retribution and a desperate understanding of why her closest confidant became her executioner.

Now, miraculously granted a second chance on the very day it all went wrong, Ellie, armed with searing memories and an iron will, defiantly rejects her predetermined tragic destiny and, instead, chooses Jackson "Jax" Knight – the family's disowned "black sheep" and the last person to offer her a flicker of hope – determined to rewrite her past and carve out a path of vengeance and true survival.

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On the night of my career-defining art exhibition, I stood completely alone. My husband, Dante Sovrano, the most feared man in Chicago, had promised he wouldn’t miss it for the world. Instead, he was on the evening news. He was shielding another woman—his ruthless business partner—from a downpour, letting his own thousand-dollar suit get soaked just to protect her. The headline flashed below them, calling their new alliance a "power move" that would reshape the city. The guests at my gallery immediately began to whisper. Their pitying looks turned my greatest triumph into a public spectacle of humiliation. Then his text arrived, a cold, final confirmation of my place in his life: “Something came up. Isabella needed me. You understand. Business.” For four years, I had been his possession. A quiet, artistic wife kept in a gilded cage on the top floor of his skyscraper. I poured all my loneliness and heartbreak onto my canvases, but he never truly saw my art. He never truly saw me. He just saw another one of his assets. My heart didn't break that night. It turned to ice. He hadn't just neglected me; he had erased me. So the next morning, I walked into his office and handed him a stack of gallery contracts. He barely glanced up, annoyed at the interruption to his empire-building. He snatched the pen and signed on the line I’d marked. He didn’t know the page tucked directly underneath was our divorce decree. He had just signed away his wife like she was nothing more than an invoice for art supplies.

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