LM0051 Lizbeth

"Ms. Wolfe, how do you like your new office?"

The contractor's voice drew Mizuki's attention back to the present. She turned away from the floor-to-ceiling glass window, where the breathtaking view of Marina Bay stretched before her.

She let her gaze sweep across the space, taking in the soothing palette of warm beige and muted grays. The minimalist shelves along the walls were crafted from light wood, complementing the soft white tones of the sleek desk in the center of the room. A plush ergonomic chair promised comfort for long hours of work, while a cozy seating area near the window provided the perfect nook for reading or contemplation. The lighting struck an ideal balance—not too harsh, not too dim—just enough to keep her mind sharp yet at ease.

Mizuki nodded in approval, a satisfied smile forming on her lips. "I love it. Thank you so much."

The contractor—Lena Choi—beamed, practically glowing with excitement. "That's great!" she said, clasping her hands together. "I'm so happy you trusted me with this project, Ms. Wolfe. Especially since I don't have much in my portfolio yet—actually, you're my first client," she admitted sheepishly.

Mizuki chuckled lightly. If anyone here should be grateful, it was her.

Lena Choi, fresh out of design school, was destined to become one of the most sought-after interior decorators in a few years. Her effortless blend of modern luxury and functional elegance would make her a name that even billionaires would compete to book. But Mizuki, armed with the knowledge of her past life, had hired Lena early—just months after graduation—giving her a major stepping stone toward the success that would inevitably be hers.

"Well, you came highly recommended by your school," Mizuki said smoothly. "I prefer to give new talent a chance to shine."

Lena looked like she might burst with joy. "Mr. Rossi told me you specifically asked for me, and now he's already assigned me a new project with Wolfe Mall. If not for you, I wouldn't have had this opportunity."

Mizuki shook her head. "You were bound to succeed regardless. You have the talent and the drive—this just sped things up."

Lena gave her a grateful nod before leaving, and as the door clicked shut behind her, Mizuki was left alone in her new space.

She inhaled deeply and turned back toward the glass window. From this height, Marina Bay was a dazzling spread of city lights, the water shimmering like scattered diamonds under the sun. It was breathtaking, but Mizuki barely noticed.

Now that her office was complete, she could finally start working on her book. But she still needed an assistant.

It was a small but crucial problem. Mizuki had always been the type to lose herself in work, so focused that she forgot to eat, sleep, or even step outside. If left unchecked, she'd push herself until exhaustion took over. Before, someone had always been there to keep her grounded, to quietly remind her to rest, to eat, to breathe. Someone who had kept her life in order and, at times, even held her together when she didn't realize she was falling apart.

That person had been—

"Lizbeth," she whispered.

The name felt both familiar and foreign, heavy with guilt yet filled with longing. A face flickered in her mind, a voice from a past life that had once been so close, yet she had let slip away.

It had been years ago. A charity gala, one of the many events arranged by Pablo's company, had been nothing more than another obligation to her back then. She had seen it as just another evening of polite conversations, another excuse for the wealthy to congratulate themselves on their generosity.

But that night had been different.

That was the night she met Lizbeth Tan.

Lizbeth had stood apart from the rest, her posture guarded, her expression cautious. She was neat, professional, but clearly not one of the elite socialites who floated through the room with ease. There was something about her that had intrigued Mizuki, something in the way she carried herself—not like someone who wanted to be seen, but rather someone who wasn't sure if she should be there at all.

Their conversation had started casually, but it hadn't taken long for Mizuki to realize Lizbeth was different.

She had once been a secretary, working diligently in a company where she had met Shawn Beck—her husband, her captor. He had seemed charming, caring, everything she had ever wanted. Then, the moment they were married, he changed. He controlled everything—who she spoke to, where she went, how she lived. He uprooted her from her home, dragged her from Thailand to Malaysia, cutting off every tie to her past.

She had endured his temper, his impossible standards, his punishments when she failed to meet them. The first miscarriage had come from a shove. The second from shattered glass.

And still, she had stayed.

Until Rose.

Her daughter had changed everything.

The first time Shawn had hurt her while she was holding their child, something inside Lizbeth had snapped. She had planned for months, gathering evidence, documenting every injury, every threat, every cruel word. Then, one night, she had taken Rose and fled.

She had come to Singapore with nothing but her daughter and the will to survive.

She hadn't even contacted her family or friends, fearing Shawn would make good on his threats to hurt them. Instead, she found a women's shelter that promised legal help for cases like hers. It was through that shelter that she had been invited to the charity gala that night—the same night she had met Mizuki.

Lizbeth had been desperate but determined, ready to fight for her freedom, for her daughter's safety. And Mizuki, foolish and blind, had turned her back on her.

Nancy's voice had been in her ear, whispering poison. Lies spun so effortlessly that Mizuki had believed them without question.

Lizbeth had reached out, and Mizuki had ignored her.

A few months later, Lizbeth and her daughter were dead.

Shawn had found them. And Mizuki, who could have done something, had done nothing.

A sharp breath escaped her lips as Mizuki clenched her hands into fists.

But that was then.

Now, Lizbeth was alive. She was still in Singapore, still hiding, still fighting to free herself from the past. Mizuki knew exactly where she was.

The problem was, Lizbeth had no reason to trust her.

How did you rebuild something that had been destroyed in another lifetime? How did you gain someone's trust when, in your heart, you were already asking for forgiveness for sins they hadn't even lived through?

Mizuki pressed her fingers against the cool glass, staring at the city below.

She would find her.

And this time, she would protect her.

This time, she wouldn't fail.