Chapter 2: The Proposals That Changed Everything

Lily Ann’s next words left me stunned on the spot—

Her voice broke through the fog of memory, sharp as a bell. Sharp enough to wake the dead.

“Miss, I just got back from the front porch. Do you know what I heard?”

Her eyes were wide, her voice trembling with excitement. She clutched my arm, nearly bouncing on her toes.

What else could it be?

I rolled my eyes inwardly, masking my impatience with a practiced smile.

“There are three people here to propose!”

The words hit me like a slap. Three? My heart skipped a beat, and I nearly dropped the mug in my hand.

The mug in Faith’s hand crashed to the floor, shattering with a sharp sound.

The sound echoed in the silent room, drawing everyone’s eyes to Faith. She didn’t flinch.

Lily Ann said, “It’s Ethan Blackwell, Captain Graves, and Senator Price.”

My mind raced—this wasn’t how it went before. Something had changed.

Could it be… they all remember this time?

A chill ran down my spine. Were we all trapped in this twisted loop together?

Are they all here to fight over Faith?

If so, what was I supposed to do—just play the fool again? Not this time.

I hurried to the main hall, and sure enough, saw the three figures I could never forget, even in death.

They stood like statues in the foyer, the morning light slanting through stained glass, painting them in colors too bright to be real.

Ethan Blackwell, the governor’s son, was dressed in black, exuding the aura of old-money authority. Every frown and smile radiated command. Steel backbone.

He was the kind of man who’d been born with a silver spoon and a steel backbone. Even his cufflinks looked expensive enough to pay off our mortgage.

Captain Westin Graves was built like a linebacker, with sharp features and sun-browned skin.

He looked like he could break a man in half just by glaring at him. His uniform was immaculate, medals gleaming.

Julian Price, compared to the other two, had less presence, but his looks were striking—elegant, almost dangerously handsome, with a refined air.

He was the sort of man you’d see on the cover of a magazine—cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass, every gesture smooth and deliberate. Cover of a magazine.

Credit where it’s due—

If I were writing a novel, I’d say the immortal picked well. Each man was a different flavor of heartbreak.

The immortal really didn’t shortchange herself.

She’d stacked the deck in her own favor, that was for sure.

The moment I appeared, all six eyes turned to me.

Their gazes pinned me in place, like butterflies on a board. I fought the urge to shrink back.

Westin, always the impatient one, spoke first. “Mr. McAllister, I admire Miss McAllister deeply and wish to marry her!”

His voice boomed through the hall, earnest and forceful, as if he could will my heart to beat for him.

I’d heard these words twice before.

They were supposed to sound like a dream come true. Now, they just sounded like a broken record.

The first time, I was so shy I couldn’t even look at him, my heart full of hope and joy.

I’d clutched my mother’s hand, cheeks burning, convinced I was the luckiest girl in town.

Now, hearing them again, all I felt was disgust and mockery.

Unlike my second life, this time Westin solemnly promised, “I, Westin, will have only Miss McAllister as my wife for this lifetime.”

His eyes locked on mine, voice trembling with conviction. If I hadn’t known better, I might have believed him.

Maybe with two other suitors, he felt the need to swear loyalty to make me choose him.

The competition brought out the best in men—or the worst. I watched them circle each other, each trying to outdo the other.

Julian Price refused to be outdone and smiled. “I feel the same.”

His smile was all charm, no warmth. He said it like a line he’d practiced in the mirror.

Even Ethan Blackwell swore, “There is only Miss McAllister in my heart.”

His voice was softer, almost gentle, but his eyes never left Faith, just for a split second.

Three pairs of eyes, all brimming with supposed deep affection.

I could feel the weight of their stares, the silent calculations behind every word.

Goosebumps rose on my arms. Inside, I was revolted.

I hugged myself, wishing I could melt into the floorboards.

My father, still clueless, was both happy and troubled, his mustache curling with pride.

He puffed up like a rooster, glancing between the men and me, torn between gloating and worry.

The three vied for attention in front of my father, like peacocks showing off their feathers.

They preened and postured, each trying to outshine the others—Westin with his medals, Ethan with his cool confidence, Julian with his smooth talk. Smooth talk.

But the moment Faith appeared, all three peacocks were clearly distracted for a second.

Their gazes flickered, almost imperceptibly, but I caught it. Faith, as always, was the real prize.

I raised my voice. “Dad, actually, your daughter already has someone in her heart.”

The words came out steadier than I felt. I needed to take control, even if just for a moment.

The room went dead silent.

You could’ve heard a pin drop. Even the clock on the mantle seemed to pause.

“Who is it?”

My father’s voice was sharp, but underneath it, I heard the tremor of fear.

Westin’s fist clenched, as if he’d punch me any second.

His knuckles went white, jaw working. Jaw working.

A dangerous glint flashed in Ethan Blackwell’s eyes.

He narrowed his eyes, sizing me up like an opponent on the debate stage.

Only Julian Price kept smiling, as if he wasn’t affected at all.

His smile didn’t reach his eyes, but he kept up the act. Didn’t reach his eyes.

I feigned panic, backing away and trembling.

I made my shoulders shake, eyes darting to the door, channeling every scared girl in every melodrama I’d ever seen.

Westin instantly loosened his fist and instinctively stepped toward me. “Harper…”

His voice softened, and for a moment, I almost believed he cared. Almost.

Dad blocked his path, face stern. “Gentlemen, please go. Allow us some time to consider.”

He squared his shoulders, standing taller than I’d ever seen him. For once, he was the shield I needed.

After they left—

The silence was thick, broken only by the tick of the grandfather clock. I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding.

Before I could figure out how to tell Dad I didn’t want to marry, he said, “I think all three of them are up to no good. You can’t marry any of them.”

He rubbed his temples, sighing like a man who’d seen too many election cycles.

My heart soared.

I almost laughed out loud, but caught myself just in time. Almost.

“And don’t even think about that Julian Price boy.”

He pointed a finger for emphasis, as if that settled the matter.

Huh?

I blinked, thrown off by the certainty in his voice. Certainty.

Only then did I remember—in my third life, I’d been infatuated with Julian Price.

The memory came rushing back—late-night talks on the veranda, stolen glances, the way my heart used to leap at the sight of him.

At this age, I was obsessed with his looks.

I used to practice my smile in the mirror, hoping he’d notice me at the church picnic.

Every time I saw him, I’d blush.

I’d duck behind my friends, too shy to even meet his eyes.

No wonder he’d been so calm just now.

He was used to having me wrapped around his finger.

He probably thought he already had me wrapped around his finger, that my ‘someone in my heart’ referred to him.

I could almost see the smugness in his smile. Smugness.

I forced myself to explain, but Dad clearly didn’t believe me.

He just shook his head, muttering something about teenage girls and poor judgment.

“Say what you want, but I’ll never let you marry Julian Price.”

His voice was final, the kind of tone that brooked no argument.

“He’s had a rough childhood, and he’s too deep for you to handle.”

Dad’s eyes softened a bit, but his jaw was set. “He’s not like the boys you grew up with, Harper. He’s got shadows you don’t understand.”

He’d said this before, in my third life, before I married Julian.

I remembered the warning, the way I’d brushed it off, convinced I could save Julian from himself.

But as an unmarried girl, how could I resist Julian’s advances?

He was magnetic, and I was young enough to believe in fairy tales.

He orchestrated chance encounters, rescued me like a hero.

He’d show up just when I needed help, always knowing the right thing to say.

My girlish crush soon became an all-consuming obsession.

I scribbled his name in my diary, daydreamed about our future, convinced love could conquer all.

But I didn’t know—he only did it for the woman behind me.

All those gestures, all that charm—it was never really for me.

A meal given in kindness when he was young and desperate had made her his lifelong ideal.

Faith had shared her lunch with him on the church steps, and he’d spent every year since chasing that memory.

So cliché, just like those old romance novels.

The kind my mother hid in her nightstand, the ones with torn covers and happy endings that never quite came true.

In any case, I won’t fall for it again.

I promised myself, right then and there, I’d never let him play me twice. Never again.

But fate never goes as one wishes—maybe someone was behind it.

It felt like the universe itself was rigged against me, the script already written.

Somehow, my supposed affection for Julian suddenly became public knowledge.

One minute it was my secret, the next, everyone in town was whispering about it behind their hymnals.