Seven Days Before My Wedding

Seven Days Before My Wedding -Chapter 2 — The First Change

Seven Days Before My Wedding

Chapter 2 — The First Change

I didn't sleep that night.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the marble floor.

The blood.

Adrian's face.

Elena's tears.

And Nathan.

Always Nathan.

His arms around me.

His voice telling me to stay awake.

His hand holding mine when there was nothing left to save.

I woke before sunrise and sat in bed, staring at the darkness outside my window.

For the first time in three years, I was back in my childhood bedroom.

The room should have made me feel safe.

Instead, it felt like the beginning of a war.

I looked at the calendar.

June 14.

Six days until the wedding.

Seven days until the life I had known was supposed to end.

I pulled the blanket away and stood.

There was no time to be afraid.

If I had truly been given another chance, then every minute mattered.

I walked to my desk and opened the drawer.

Inside was an old notebook.

My fingers stopped when I saw it.

I remembered this notebook.

In my first life, I had used it during my final year at university.

I picked it up and turned through the pages.

Old notes.

Shopping lists.

Phone numbers.

Random thoughts.

Then I found a blank page.

I sat down.

At the top, I wrote:

EVERYTHING I REMEMBER

For several seconds, I simply stared at the words.

Then I began writing.

June 21 — wedding.

Three months later — first major transfer from Carter Enterprises.

Six months later — father's health suddenly deteriorates.

One year — parents confirmed dead because of "car accident."

Adrian takes control of company.

Nathan disappears.

I discover truth.

I die.

I stopped.

My hand was trembling.

I added one more line.

Do not trust Adrian.

Then:

Do not trust Elena.

I stared at those words for a long time.

It hurt more than I expected.

Even after knowing what she had done, writing her name felt wrong.

She had been my little sister.

The girl who used to sleep beside me whenever thunderstorms frightened her.

The girl who would crawl into my bed at six years old and whisper, "Emma, don't leave me."

I had spent my entire life protecting her.

And she had watched me die.

I closed my eyes.

No.

I couldn't allow memories to weaken me.

I turned the page.

This time, I wrote:

Nathan Black.

I stared at his name.

There wasn't much I remembered about him.

Not compared with what I remembered about Adrian.

That realization made me uncomfortable.

Adrian had occupied years of my life.

Nathan had occupied moments.

But those moments suddenly seemed more important.

I remembered his warning.

I remembered the look in his eyes.

I remembered his voice.

And most of all, I remembered the way he had held me while I died.

Why had he been there?

How had he known?

Why had he been trying to save me?

I didn't know.

But I intended to find out.

I closed the notebook.

Then I picked up my phone.

There was one person I needed to call.

The private investigator.

Daniel Harris.

In my first life, Daniel had tried to warn me about suspicious financial activity involving Carter Enterprises.

I had dismissed him.

Adrian had told me Daniel was trying to manipulate my family.

I had believed him.

That mistake had cost me everything.

I searched through my contacts.

His name appeared.

Daniel Harris.

My thumb hovered over the screen.

Then I pressed call.

He answered after two rings.

"Hello?"

His voice was exactly as I remembered.

Professional.

Calm.

"Mr. Harris?"

"Yes."

"This is Emma Carter."

There was a pause.

"I know who you are."

"I need your help."

Another pause.

"What happened?"

I looked toward the window.

"Someone is stealing from my father's company."

His tone changed.

"Are you certain?"

"Yes."

"Do you have evidence?"

"Not yet."

"Then what makes you think that?"

"I have information."

"What kind of information?"

I hesitated.

I couldn't tell him that I had died and returned to the past.

"I need you to investigate several accounts."

"Whose?"

"Adrian Black."

Silence.

Daniel didn't respond immediately.

Then he asked:

"Does Mr. Black know you're doing this?"

"No."

"Does your father?"

"Not yet."

"Then why are you calling me?"

I looked at my reflection in the dark window.

"Because I made a mistake before."

"What mistake?"

"I trusted the wrong person."

Daniel was silent.

Then he said:

"I'll meet you."

Two hours later, I sat across from Daniel in a quiet restaurant.

He looked older than I remembered.

Gray touched his temples.

His suit was simple.

His expression was serious.

He placed a folder on the table.

"You said you wanted an investigation."

I nodded.

"How far can you go?"

"Far enough."

"I need Adrian's financial records."

"I can investigate public records."

"Private accounts?"

"That depends."

"Find a way."

He studied me.

"You're serious."

"Very."

"May I ask what changed?"

I looked at him.

"I woke up."

His eyebrows lifted.

"What?"

"I realized I was trusting people because I wanted to believe they were good."

Daniel leaned back.

"That's not usually how you speak."

"People change."

"Overnight?"

"Sometimes."

He opened the folder.

"I'll need time."

"How much?"

"At least a few days."

My heart tightened.

I had six days.

"I don't have a few days."

"Then you need to tell me what you're afraid of."

I looked down.

"The wedding."

He frowned.

"Your wedding?"

"Yes."

"Are you thinking of canceling it?"

I didn't answer.

That was answer enough.

Daniel closed the folder.

"Emma, if you're accusing Adrian Black of financial fraud, you need evidence."

"I know."

"Don't confront him."

"I won't."

"Don't tell your sister."

My eyes lifted.

Daniel noticed my reaction.

"Why did you react like that?"

I smiled.

"I'm just surprised."

"About what?"

"Nothing."

He studied me.

Then nodded.

"I'll call you when I have something."

"Thank you."

As I stood, he stopped me.

"Emma."

I turned.

"If you think you're in danger, tell me."

I nodded.

"I will."

But I knew something Daniel didn't.

I had already been in danger.

And I had already died.

When I returned home, Adrian was waiting.

My body froze the moment I saw him.

He was standing beside the living room window.

A bouquet of white roses rested on the table.

He turned when he heard me.

His smile appeared.

The same smile.

The same perfect smile.

"Where have you been?"

I placed my bag on the table.

"Out."

"Without telling me?"

I shrugged.

"I didn't know I needed permission."

He laughed.

"You don't."

He walked toward me.

"But we're getting married in six days."

Seven days.

He said six.

Because the day had already passed.

My stomach tightened.

"Yes."

He reached for my hand.

I let him take it.

His fingers closed around mine.

Once, that touch would have made my heart race.

Now all I could think about was his hand removing my wedding ring while I lay dying.

I pulled my hand away.

His smile faded.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"You've been strange since this morning."

"I'm tired."

"Are you having doubts?"

I looked into his eyes.

"Should I?"

He laughed softly.

"About us?"

"Maybe."

His expression changed.

Only slightly.

But I saw it.

A flash of irritation.

Then it disappeared.

"Emma."

He stepped closer.

"You know I love you."

The lie came so easily.

I wondered how many times he had said those words while secretly planning my death.

"Do you?"

His eyebrows drew together.

"Of course."

"How much?"

He laughed.

"What kind of question is that?"

"A simple one."

He touched my cheek.

"Enough to marry you."

I smiled.

"That's not an answer."

His hand dropped.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then he reached for the bouquet.

"I brought these for you."

I looked at the roses.

In my first life, I had loved white roses.

Adrian knew that.

He had used them for every important occasion.

Birthdays.

Anniversaries.

Our engagement.

My funeral, perhaps.

I didn't know.

I didn't want to know.

"They're beautiful."

"I knew you'd like them."

I looked at him.

"How well do you know me, Adrian?"

He smiled.

"Better than anyone."

I almost laughed.

You don't know me at all.

The woman you knew was dead.

I was someone else now.

Someone who knew you.

That evening, my father called me into his study.

He was sitting behind his large wooden desk.

The same desk I remembered from childhood.

He looked tired.

Older than he should have.

I stared at him.

Alive.

My father was alive.

I wanted to run to him.

I wanted to hug him.

Instead, I stood there.

"Emma?"

I blinked.

"Sorry."

He smiled.

"You look distracted."

"I was thinking."

"About the wedding?"

"Partly."

He leaned back.

"Are you having doubts?"

I hesitated.

"Would you be angry if I canceled it?"

His expression changed.

"Canceled the wedding?"

"Yes."

He was silent.

Then he stood.

"Come here."

I walked toward him.

He put his hand on my shoulder.

"Your happiness matters more to me than any wedding."

Tears filled my eyes.

In my first life, I had lost him.

I had never been able to tell him goodbye.

Now he was standing in front of me.

Alive.

I hugged him.

He froze.

Then his arms wrapped around me.

"Emma?"

I closed my eyes.

"I'm glad you're here."

He laughed softly.

"Where else would I be?"

I held him tighter.

For a few seconds, I was no longer a woman planning revenge.

I was just a daughter hugging her father.

Then I remembered the future.

My father's body in a coffin.

My mother's photograph.

The empty house.

The lies.

I pulled away.

"Dad."

"Yes?"

"Do you trust Adrian?"

His smile disappeared.

"Why?"

"Just answer me."

He thought for a moment.

"I trust his business abilities."

"That's not what I asked."

He sighed.

"Emma, I know you love him."

"I didn't ask about love."

He looked at me.

"No."

"What?"

"I don't completely trust him."

My heart skipped.

"Why?"

"I've always thought he was too ambitious."

"Did you ever tell me that?"

"I didn't want to interfere."

I stared at him.

"Why didn't you?"

"Because you were happy."

I looked away.

Another mistake.

Everyone had been trying to protect me.

And I had refused to listen.

My father returned to his desk.

"There is something else."

"What?"

He opened a drawer.

He pulled out a file.

"I've been reviewing some of our international accounts."

My heart stopped.

"What about them?"

"There are irregularities."

I stared at him.

"What kind?"

"Transfers."

My hands became cold.

"How much?"

"Not enough to trigger an immediate alarm."

"But?"

He looked at me.

"But enough to concern me."

I swallowed.

"Who handles them?"

"Several executives."

"Adrian?"

My father's eyes narrowed.

"Why are you asking about Adrian?"

"Because he has been helping you with the restructuring."

"Yes."

"Could he have access?"

"Some."

My heart pounded.

This was happening earlier than I remembered.

In my first life, my father had discovered the irregularities months later.

Why was it happening now?

Had something changed?

Or had I simply remembered the timeline incorrectly?

My father closed the file.

"I'm going to investigate."

"No."

He frowned.

"Why?"

"Let me do it."

"Emma."

"Please."

He stared at me.

"You've never shown interest in financial investigations."

"I do now."

He studied me for several seconds.

Then he smiled faintly.

"Something happened to you."

I looked down.

"What do you mean?"

"You've always trusted people."

He walked around the desk.

"Now you're questioning everyone."

I couldn't answer.

He touched my hair.

"Whatever happened, I'm glad you're thinking for yourself."

Tears threatened my eyes again.

"Promise me something."

"What?"

"If you find anything suspicious, tell me."

He nodded.

"I promise."

I hugged him again.

This time, he hugged me tighter.

Neither of us knew how little time we had.

That night, I sat at my desk again.

My notebook was open.

I wrote:

Father suspects irregularities.

Then:

This is different from my first life.

I stared at the sentence.

That frightened me.

If changing one event could alter the future, then my memories might become unreliable.

I couldn't simply follow the timeline I remembered.

I had to investigate everything.

I opened my laptop.

I searched for information about Nathan Black.

His name appeared in dozens of business articles.

Nathan Black — Former COO of Black Holdings.

Nathan Black Leaves Family Business.

Nathan Black Accused of Financial Misconduct.

I frowned.

Financial misconduct?

I opened an article.

It claimed Nathan had resigned two years earlier after an internal investigation.

But I remembered something different.

He had told me he had been framed.

I continued reading.

The article mentioned an internal financial discrepancy.

The exact same kind of discrepancy now appearing at Carter Enterprises.

My pulse quickened.

Maybe this wasn't a coincidence.

Maybe Nathan hadn't left the company voluntarily.

Maybe he had discovered the same people.

I searched further.

Then I found something.

A photograph.

Nathan standing beside my father at a charity event.

The date was seven years earlier.

I stared at it.

My father was smiling.

Nathan was standing beside him.

And behind them...

Adrian.

Elena.

All four were in the same photograph.

Why?

I zoomed in.

Something was written on the back of the photograph in the original article.

I couldn't read it clearly.

I saved the image.

Then my phone vibrated.

A message.

Unknown number.

My heart jumped.

I opened it.

There were only six words.

Stop digging before you get hurt.

I stared at the screen.

My hands became cold.

Another message arrived.

You have six days left.

I stopped breathing.

Six days.

Only Adrian knew the wedding was in six days.

Elena knew.

My father knew.

My closest friends knew.

But the wording wasn't about the wedding.

It was a threat.

Someone knew I was investigating.

Someone was watching me.

I looked toward the bedroom door.

It was closed.

The house was silent.

I typed:

Who are you?

The message showed as delivered.

No response.

I waited.

Nothing.

Then another message appeared.

Ask Nathan what happened the night your parents died.

My blood ran cold.

I dropped the phone onto the desk.

Nathan.

Again.

Why Nathan?

What did he know?

I stared at the screen.

Then I remembered his warning.

When you finally realize who Adrian is, it may be too late.

Maybe he hadn't been trying to destroy my marriage.

Maybe he had been trying to save my life.

I picked up the phone again.

My fingers hovered over his name.

I didn't have his number.

Not anymore.

But I knew where to find it.

My father's old records.

I opened the filing cabinet.

One folder after another.

Black Holdings.

Partnership agreements.

Old correspondence.

Then I found it.

NATHAN BLACK

I pulled out the file.

Inside was a business card.

His name.

His office.

His private number.

I stared at it.

I had six days until the wedding.

But I had no intention of reaching the wedding day as the same woman.

I picked up my phone.

Then I dialed Nathan Black.

One ring.

Two.

Three.

My heart pounded.

Four.

Five.

He answered.

"Hello?"

I couldn't speak.

His voice was deeper than I remembered.

"Who is this?"

I swallowed.

"It's Emma."

Silence.

A long silence.

Then:

"Emma Carter?"

"Yes."

His breathing changed.

"Why are you calling me?"

I closed my eyes.

Because I died.

Because your brother killed me.

Because you were right.

Because I need you.

But I couldn't say any of that.

Instead, I whispered:

"I need your help."

Another silence.

Then Nathan said something that made my blood run cold.

"Emma..."

His voice was almost a whisper.

"You shouldn't be calling me."

"Why?"

"Because if Adrian finds out..."

He stopped.

"Finds out what?"

Nathan didn't answer.

"Nathan?"

His breathing became heavier.

Then he said:

"Where are you?"

"At home."

"Are you alone?"

"Yes."

"Lock your door."

My heart began pounding.

"Why?"

"Because I think someone is already watching you."

The line went dead.

I stared at the phone.

For several seconds, I couldn't move.

Then I heard something outside my bedroom window.

A soft sound.

Like a branch scraping against glass.

I slowly turned my head.

The curtains moved.

The window was closed.

But behind the glass...

I saw a shadow.

Someone was standing in the garden.

Watching me.

I stopped breathing.

The shadow didn't move.

Then my phone vibrated again.

A new message.

This time, there was no number.

Only one sentence.

You should have stayed dead.