The mirror doesn't lie, but sometimes reality does. I stared at my nineteen-year-old face—smooth, unmarked by the years of torment that hadn't happened yet. My hands trembled as I gripped the marble sink. These were the hands that would sign away my inheritance in six months. The hands that would shake uncontrollably from the medications they'd force down my throat. The hands that would finally go still in that cold psychiatric ward at twenty-four. But that was my previous life. "Adrian, are you coming down?" My stepmother's voice drifted up the stairs, sweet as poisoned honey. "Your father wants to discuss the company succession." I closed my eyes, letting the memories wash over me. In my original timeline, I'd gone down to that dinner eager and excited. Father had smiled, poured me whisky, and told me about his plans for Chen Industries. Then, the next morning, his car went off the bridge on his way to the lawyer's office. The accident that wasn't an accident. The coma that lasted just long enough for my stepmother Victoria to produce a will—one that divided everything between her and my half-brother Marcus. One that left me with a trust fund "for medical care" because of my "documented mental instability." Documentation that didn't exist. Until it did. I opened my eyes and smiled at my reflection. That boy in the mirror had been weak. Trusting. He'd believed family meant something. I knew better now. "Coming, Victoria," I called out, my voice steady. I descended the stairs slowly, taking in details I'd missed the first time. The fresh flowers in the entry—lilies, Father's favorite, but he was allergic. Victoria knew that. Was she already planning? The security camera in the corner had a piece of tape over its LED light. Disabled, but made to look functional. They'd been preparing for this for months, maybe years. The dining room gleamed with crystal and silver. Father sat at the head of the table, robust and healthy, his signature ring—the Chen family seal—gleaming on his finger. In six months, I'd watch Marcus wear that ring while I was strapped to a hospital bed. "Adrian!" Father's face lit up. "Come, sit. We have important matters to discuss." Marcus sat across from me, twenty-one and perfectly composed in his tailored suit. His smile was warm, brotherly. I'd believed in that smile once. Even defended him when the board members questioned his qualifications. He'd repaid me by signing the commitment papers himself. "Adrian looks pale," Victoria said, her hand fluttering to her throat with practiced concern. "Darling, have you been sleeping? You seem... distracted lately." The first seed. I'd missed it before. "I'm fine," I said, meeting her eyes. "Just excited about the future." Father launched into his vision for the company. Chen Industries had been his life's work—real estate development across Asia, worth billions. He wanted to ensure a smooth transition, he said. He wanted both his sons involved. Lies he believed. Lies they'd fed him. "I've been thinking," Father continued, "about dividing responsibilities. Marcus has been working closely with the development division, and Adrian, your instincts for investment have always been sharp." "That's very generous," Marcus said, his voice perfectly modulated. "Though I worry about Adrian taking on too much stress. He's still young." There it was. The second seed. "I can handle it," I said firmly. Victoria's eyes narrowed slightly. "Of course you can, dear. No one's questioning your abilities. We just want what's best for you." My phone buzzed. A text from my friend James: "Dude, you still coming to the party tonight?" In my previous life, I'd gone. I'd gotten drunk for the first time. Someone had taken photos—photos that later appeared in my "psychiatric evaluation" as evidence of substance abuse and erratic behavior. I deleted the message. "Actually, Father, I'd like to discuss something," I said. "I think we should review our security protocols. For the family and the company." Father raised an eyebrow. "Security? Why the sudden concern?" "Just a feeling," I said, watching Victoria's hand tighten on her wine glass. "I've been reading about corporate espionage, hostile takeovers. We should protect what's ours." Marcus leaned back, studying me. "That's surprisingly... mature of you, little brother." "I'm learning," I said, meeting his gaze. "From the best." The dinner continued with small talk, but I felt the shift in the room. They'd noticed something different. Good. Let them wonder. After dinner, Father pulled me aside in his study. "Son," he said, gripping my shoulder, "I'm proud of you. You're thinking like a leader." My throat tightened. This was the last real conversation I'd had with him before the accident. Before the coma. Before everything fell apart. "Father," I said carefully, "promise me something. Don't go anywhere alone tomorrow. Take security with you. Please." He laughed. "Adrian, I've been driving these roads for thirty years." "Please." Something in my voice made him pause. "Alright," he said finally. "If it makes you feel better." It wouldn't be enough. I knew that. But it was a start. That night, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. My phone buzzed again—Marcus this time. "Everything okay? You seemed off at dinner." I smiled in the darkness and typed back: "Never better, brother. See you tomorrow." Tomorrow, everything would begin to change. This time, I wouldn't be the victim. This time, I'd be the one they should fear. ---