Chapter 3 The Man Behind the Screen

Dayla Stanford had barely slept.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the flames again. She heard Adrian's voice, remembered Vanessa's cruel smile, and felt the same helplessness that had consumed her in her final moments.

But this time, she refused to be helpless.

At six in the morning, she sat at her desk with a notebook open before her. On the first page, she had written three names.

Adrian Cole.

Vanessa Stanford.

Luthur Chris.

She stared at the last name for a long time before drawing a line beneath it.

Unlike the first two, Luthur was not her enemy. At least, not as far as she knew.

He was the anonymous man she had trusted with her secrets. He had listened to her complaints, comforted her when she cried, and stayed awake with her on nights when loneliness became unbearable.

Yet she knew almost nothing about him.

She did not know his face, his age, or where he lived. He had never sent her a photograph, and whenever she asked about his personal life, he found a way to change the subject.

In her previous life, she had never considered that strange.

Now, she wondered whether she had been too trusting of him as well.

Her phone vibrated.

Unknown: You're awake early, Day.

She looked at the message and smiled faintly.

Dayla: How do you know that?

Unknown: Because you usually complain about waking up early. Today, you haven't complained once.

She shook her head.

Even through a screen, he noticed things about her that other people overlooked.

Dayla: Maybe I've changed.

Unknown: People change for a reason. Do you want to tell me yours?

Dayla's fingers hovered over the keyboard.

She wanted to tell him everything.

She wanted to ask whether he would believe her if she confessed that she had died and somehow returned to the past.

But she couldn't.

Dayla: Not yet.

His reply came almost immediately.

Unknown: All right. I won't force you.

She stared at those words.

Adrian had always insisted that he knew what was best for her. He treated her decisions as inconveniences and her questions as challenges to his authority.

Luthur never did that.

He might ask questions, but he never demanded answers.

That difference mattered more than she wanted to admit.

Dayla: Can I ask you something personal?

Unknown: Go ahead.

Dayla: Have you ever loved someone you couldn't have?

This time, he took longer to respond.

Across the city, Luthur Chris stood beside the windows of his penthouse, holding his phone.

He read Dayla's question twice.

He had loved her for years.

He had watched her reject him in person, dismissing him as an arrogant man who believed money could buy anything. Yet when she spoke to him online, she trusted him with the parts of herself she hid from the world.

Sometimes, he wondered whether he should tell her the truth.

Then he remembered the fear in her eyes whenever he approached her in public.

He didn't want her to feel trapped by his wealth or pressured by his feelings.

Luthur: Yes.

Dayla's heart skipped.

Dayla: What happened?

Luthur: I kept my feelings to myself for too long.

She read the answer carefully.

Dayla: Do you regret it?

Luthur looked down at the city below.

"I regret not telling her," he whispered.

Then he typed.

Luthur: Every day.

Dayla felt an unexpected sadness.

For a moment, she forgot about Adrian and Vanessa. She imagined a man sitting alone somewhere, loving someone who might never return his feelings.

She wondered what kind of woman could make a man like her online friend feel that way.

Dayla: Maybe you still have time to tell her.

Luthur: Maybe. But what if telling her changes everything?

Dayla leaned back in her chair.

Dayla: Then perhaps everything needs to change.

Luthur smiled faintly.

For a woman who had suddenly become so guarded, Dayla still had a way of saying things that reached straight into his heart.

He wanted to ask her what had happened.

Instead, he wrote one final message.

Luthur: Don't let the people who hurt you decide what kind of person you become.

Dayla stared at the screen.

Too late, she thought.

They had already changed her.

But they would never control her again.

At ten o'clock, Dayla arrived at Mr. Bennett's law office.

The lawyer greeted her warmly and invited her into his private office.

"I was surprised when you called yesterday," he admitted. "You have never requested a full review of your father's estate before."

"I should have done it earlier."

He studied her expression.

"Has someone been pressuring you to transfer any properties?"

Dayla kept her face calm.

"My fiancé has suggested that we reorganize the estate before our marriage."

Mr. Bennett removed his glasses.

"Has he asked you to sign anything?"

"Not yet. But he has shown me several documents."

"Did you sign them?"

"No."

The lawyer looked relieved.

"Good. Your father was very specific about protecting these assets. Some properties are registered directly in your name, while others are held through companies. Any transfer would require proper documentation."

Dayla leaned forward.

"Can someone take control of those properties without my permission?"

"Not legally. However, fraud, forged signatures, or improperly authorized transactions can create serious problems."

She felt a chill.

In her first life, Adrian had repeatedly asked her to sign papers. She could not remember every document, but she recalled one agreement involving the management of several commercial buildings.

At the time, she had signed it without reading every page.

She would not make that mistake again.

"I want copies of every document connected to my inheritance," she said. "And I want to know whether anyone has attempted to access my accounts or transfer ownership."

Mr. Bennett nodded.

"I can arrange that."

"There is something else."

"Yes?"

"If I decide to get married, will my husband automatically gain control over my properties?"

"No. Marriage does not automatically transfer ownership of assets registered in your name. However, the applicable laws and any agreements you sign can affect your rights. You should receive independent legal advice before signing anything."

Dayla nodded slowly.

"Then I want everything reviewed before I make any decisions."

"That is wise."

As the meeting continued, Dayla began to understand how much she had neglected.

Her father had left her more than money. He had left her businesses, investments, and legal protections she had never fully examined.

She had trusted Adrian to understand everything for her.

Never again.

When she finally left the office, she carried a folder of documents and a clearer understanding of what she needed to protect.

For the first time, revenge felt less like a desperate promise and more like a plan.

That afternoon, Vanessa arrived at the Stanford residence without warning.

Dayla was in the sitting room when Grace announced her arrival.

"Your sister is here."

Dayla put down her book.

"Let her in."

Vanessa entered wearing a cream-colored dress and carrying a shopping bag.

"There you are!" she exclaimed. "I've been calling you all morning."

"I was busy."

"Busy doing what?"

"Taking care of something important."

Vanessa placed the bag on the table and sat beside her.

"I brought you a dress for the charity gala next week. I thought we could go shopping together and find something beautiful for you."

Dayla glanced at the bag.

In her first life, Vanessa had always done little things like this. She bought her gifts, complimented her clothes, and acted as though their relationship was perfect.

It had made the betrayal harder to understand.

Now, Dayla saw the gestures differently.

"Thank you," she said politely.

Vanessa studied her face.

"Are you still upset about something?"

"Why would I be upset?"

"I don't know. You seem different."

Dayla smiled.

"Perhaps I'm finally growing up."

Vanessa laughed, but the sound was forced.

"You're making it sound as if you've been a child all these years."

"Maybe I have."

For a moment, Vanessa said nothing.

Then she leaned closer.

"Adrian told me you met with your father's lawyer."

Dayla's fingers tightened around her teacup.

Of course he had noticed.

"Yes. I needed some advice."

"About the estate?"

"Among other things."

Vanessa's expression changed slightly.

"Dayla, you know Adrian only wants to help you. You shouldn't make him feel as if you don't trust him."

Dayla looked directly at her.

"Why should he feel entitled to my trust?"

Vanessa blinked.

"What?"

"Trust is something people earn, isn't it?"

"Of course, but he's your fiancé."

"That doesn't mean I should stop thinking for myself."

Vanessa stared at her as though she had never heard her speak that way.

Dayla took another sip of tea.

"Would you like some more?"

"No." Vanessa stood abruptly. "I should go."

"Already?"

"I have things to do."

Dayla watched her walk toward the door.

Just before leaving, Vanessa turned around.

"You're making a mistake, Dayla. You don't want to push away the people who care about you."

Dayla held her gaze.

"Then they should have nothing to fear from my questions."

Vanessa left without answering.

When the door closed, Dayla released a slow breath.

Her stepsister had come looking for information.

Instead, she had left with questions of her own.

Good.

Let the uncertainty begin.

That evening, Luthur Chris attended a business dinner at the Sterling Hotel.

He disliked social events, but his company was negotiating a major acquisition, and several influential investors had insisted on meeting in person.

He sat at the head of the table, listening as a businessman explained the proposed agreement.

"With your approval, Mr. Chris, we can complete the transaction within two weeks."

Luthur glanced through the documents.

"The projected costs are inaccurate."

The man stiffened.

"Excuse me?"

"You've underestimated the liabilities and exaggerated the expected returns. Either you didn't read your own report, or you believe I won't notice."

Silence fell around the table.

Luthur closed the folder.

"Have your team correct it. Then send it back."

The businessman swallowed.

"Of course."

Luthur stood, signaling that the meeting was over.

As he left the private dining room, Daniel approached him.

"Sir, there's something you should know about Miss Stanford."

Luthur immediately stopped.

"What happened?"

"Her stepsister visited the house today. They reportedly had an uncomfortable conversation."

"About what?"

"We don't know. But Miss Stanford has been meeting with her father's lawyer and reviewing the estate."

Luthur considered this.

"That's a good thing."

Daniel looked surprised.

"You aren't concerned?"

"I'm concerned about why she suddenly feels the need to protect herself. But I won't interfere with her decisions."

He took out his phone.

There was a new message from Dayla.

Dayla: Do you think people can pretend to love someone for years?

Luthur's expression darkened.

He thought about the men and women he had dealt with in business. People who smiled while planning to take advantage of him. People who called him a friend until they discovered he could no longer benefit them.

Luthur: Yes. Some people are very good at pretending.

Dayla: How do you tell the difference?

He thought for a moment.

Luthur: Watch what they do when you stop giving them what they want.

Dayla read the message from her bedroom.

Her eyes moved toward the family photograph on her bedside table. In it, she stood beside Adrian and Vanessa at a charity event, smiling as though her world were perfect.

She picked up the photograph and placed it face down.

Then she replied.

Dayla: I think I'm about to find out.

Luthur stared at the screen.

His instincts told him that something serious was happening, but Dayla wasn't ready to tell him.

He would wait.

For her, he could wait.

The next morning, Dayla received an invitation to a private charity gala attended by the country's wealthiest families and most influential business leaders.

She almost declined.

Then she noticed the name printed near the bottom of the invitation.

Luthur Chris.

He was listed as one of the event's principal sponsors.

Dayla frowned.

She had met him several times before her death. Their encounters had never gone well.

The last time, he had approached her at a business gathering and asked whether she would consider having dinner with him.

She had refused without hesitation.

He had looked at her for a long moment before replying, "One day, Miss Stanford, you may discover that your assumptions about me are wrong."

She had dismissed his words as arrogance.

Now, she wondered whether she had misunderstood more than she realized.

She picked up her phone and opened her conversation with her online friend.

Dayla: Can I ask you something?

Luthur: You can ask me anything.

Dayla: Do you know Luthur Chris?

On the other side of the city, the billionaire went still.

For several seconds, he didn't move.

Then he typed carefully.

Luthur: Why do you ask?

Dayla looked at the invitation again.

Dayla: I'm going to an event where he'll be present.

Luthur's heart began beating faster.

He had wanted to see her for days, but he hadn't expected her to bring up his name.

Luthur: What do you think of him?

Dayla hesitated before answering.

Dayla: He's arrogant. Cold. And he acts as if everyone should obey him.

Luthur let out a quiet laugh.

At least she was honest.

Luthur: Perhaps you haven't seen every side of him.

Dayla: Are you defending him?

Luthur: I'm saying that people aren't always what they appear to be.

Dayla stared at the message.

For a strange moment, she felt as though her online friend was trying to tell her something.

Something important.

But before she could ask another question, Grace entered the room with a garment bag.

"Your dress for the gala has arrived, Miss Dayla."

Dayla closed her phone.

"Put it there, please."

Grace hung the dress beside the wardrobe.

"Are you excited?"

"No."

"Why not? Everyone will be there."

Dayla glanced at the invitation.

Everyone who mattered in her world would be there.

Her fiancé.

Her stepsister.

And the ruthless billionaire she had never understood.

She walked toward the wardrobe and unzipped the garment bag.

A beautiful midnight-blue gown hung inside.

Dayla ran her fingers over the fabric.

In her first life, she had attended such events hoping to impress people and secure her place among them.

This time, she had a different purpose.

She would watch.

She would listen.

And she would learn which smiles concealed knives.

"Grace," she said, "make sure the car is ready by seven."

Grace smiled.

"Yes, Miss Dayla."

After she left, Dayla looked at herself in the mirror.

"Let's see who you really are, Luthur Chris," she whispered.

Across the city, Luthur stood before his office window, reading her last message.

He had no idea that the woman he loved was preparing to enter his world with suspicion in her heart.

He only knew that, for the first time in years, Dayla Stanford was about to look at him again.

And this time, he intended to make sure she saw more than the ruthless billionaire everyone feared.