A collision with fate

Amilia's POV

"Are you planning to crush my balls?"

His deep, cold voice sent a jolt of embarrassment through my entire body. My face burned as realization hit me like a ton of bricks. I was sitting on top of him. Straddling him. My hands pressed against his solid chest, and his sharp midnight-blue eyes bore into mine, sending a shiver down my spine.

I froze, my heart pounding against my ribs. Did he really have to say it like that?! What the hell was wrong with him?!

Wait… those eyes. Sharp. Piercing. A shade of deep, midnight blue that could freeze someone in place.

I knew those eyes.

There was no doubt about it.

It's him.

Ceaser Romano.

The Second Prince of the Romano Kingdom. The first in line for the throne. The man every noblewoman in the kingdom secretly (or not so secretly) pined after. The cold-hearted warlord who could silence a battlefield with a single glance. My husband—well, my future husband.

But judging by the way he was looking at me, it was clear we weren't married yet.

That d*mn fox must have sent me back to before everything happened.

I gulped, my mind reeling.

Ceaser looked just as majestic as ever, if not more so. How had I never noticed how breathtakingly handsome he was before? Thick black hair that fell in elegant disarray, framing a chiseled face that looked like it had been sculpted by the gods themselves. A sharp jawline, lips set in a firm, disapproving line. His broad shoulders and tall, muscular frame were hidden under layers of royal fabric, but I could feel the strength beneath my hands.

Dmn. He was hot as fck.

Why was I so obsessed with his brother before? I must have been blind.

Then, like lightning striking me from above, a realization slammed into me.

HOLY SHÎT.

I was sitting on top of Ceaser Romano.

Not just any man—but him.

The cold-hearted, terrifyingly powerful prince.

The clean freak.

The man who hated being touched.

I. Am. So. Dead.

I tried to scramble off of him, but before I could move, a rough, merciless grip yanked me off and dragged me to my feet. Pain shot through my wrist as the fingers digging into my flesh tightened.

"Are you alright, Your Highness?"

A sharp, polished voice. Cold. Unforgiving.

I turned my gaze toward the man standing beside Ceaser.

Tall. Blond hair neatly styled. Icy blue eyes filled with nothing but contempt as he glared at me.

Logan Milburn.

Ceaser's right-hand man. His most trusted advisor. The man who had always loathed me in my previous life.

And, judging by the disgust in his expression, things hadn't changed in this one either.

"You insolent brat," Logan hissed, his lips curling into a sneer. "Do you have any idea what you've done?!"

He didn't even wait for me to answer. Instead, he launched into a full-blown lecture, scolding me like I was a lowly commoner who had dared to lay a hand on the prince. His voice was sharp, clipped, every syllable laced with venom.

I barely paid attention.

I was still too busy processing the fact that Ceaser hadn't snapped my neck yet.

In my previous life, this man had barely looked at me. Our first meeting had been formal, stiff—cold. A politically arranged marriage that neither of us had any say in. I had spent months chasing his approval, trying desperately to be the perfect wife, only to be met with indifference.

Yet here I was, sprawled on top of him like some desperate woman throwing herself at his feet, and he still hadn't killed me.

Then—

"We better get going, Logan."

Ceaser's voice sliced through the air like a blade, sharp and controlled.

Logan instantly shut up, snapping his mouth closed. He nodded stiffly. "Yes, Your Highness."

Without another glance at me, Ceaser turned and walked away, Logan trailing behind him.

Leaving me standing there like an absolute idiot.

I crossed my arms, watching their retreating figures, my brows furrowing in frustration.

What the hell?

I get that Ceaser doesn't like being touched, but it's not like I purposely threw myself on top of him! And what was with Logan? I understand he loathed me in my past life, but couldn't he at least show a little respect? I was going to be his future queen, for f*ck's sake!

But then—

Something clicked in my mind.

Wait.

In my previous life, Ceaser and I never met before our wedding. This… this moment… it had never happened before.

This was new.

The story was already changing.

A slow, satisfied smirk curled on my lips.

Good.

That just meant I could rewrite everything.

I clenched my fists.

Whoever was behind my death in my past life—I would make them suffer.

And as for you, my dear future husband…

I'll make you fall for me.

Just you wait.

I dusted off my clothes, ignoring the whispers from the onlookers who had witnessed my very unladylike display. The noblewomen nearby looked scandalized, whispering behind their gloved hands. Some seemed amused, others downright horrified.

Well, let them talk.

I had bigger things to worry about.

For instance, how exactly I was supposed to win over Ceaser Romano.

Because, in my past life, I had failed. Miserably.

But this time?

This time, I would make sure he fell head over heels for me.

If I was going to survive this world, I needed to play smarter.

No more foolish infatuation with his brother.

No more naivety.

No more being the weak, helpless princess everyone saw me as.

This time, I would be the one holding the strings.

But first, I needed to figure out what exactly had changed.

Where in the timeline had I been sent back to?

And more importantly—

How much time did I have before the people who killed me tried again?

A chill ran down my spine, but I pushed the fear away.

I had been weak before.

Not anymore.

This time, I would carve my own fate.

And it started with Ceaser Romano.