Ismael Kubas

The weight of the past clung to me like a second skin, a constant reminder of the choices I hadn’t made and the words I’d never spoken. Every time I saw Gracie now—alive and breathing in this second chance—I felt the crushing guilt of my previous life pressing down harder. I was back, but the memories of the future refused to fade.

Gracie’s death had haunted me. It had been sudden, brutal, and so utterly wrong. I had always known she was suffering, though she never showed it openly. Her strength masked the pain she carried, and I had been too much of a coward to step in when I should have. The bruises I’d glimpsed beneath the sleeves of her dress, the cuts that occasionally peeked from under her collar when the fabric slipped—it all played in my mind over and over. I had noticed, yes, but I’d said nothing.

I could still see it clearly: the first time I realized how much she endured. It had been on one of those family outings, back when Fritz was still alive. I’d gone along with them—Gracie, Fritz, and the children. It had been a sunny day, the kind that made everything seem peaceful on the surface. I remember Gracie’s smile as she spoke with me, her eyes lighting up with something pure and beautiful. She had a way of making me feel at ease, like I could tell her anything. I always looked forward to those moments, our conversations feeling like a breath of fresh air in a stifling household.

But that day, something had shifted. We were walking along a path near the lake, and she bent down to help little Wilbert fix his shoe. As she did, the sleeve of her dress slid up, revealing a series of dark bruises on her wrist. My breath had caught in my throat. I hadn’t known what to say or do. She noticed me staring and quickly pulled her sleeve back down, her smile faltering for just a second before she resumed her cheerful facade.

I didn’t confront her about it. I didn’t say a word. And looking back, I hated myself for that. I knew Fritz could be cruel. I had seen it myself, though never directed at me. He had always been kind to me—gentle, even. But I was his son. I was protected by blood and status. Gracie wasn’t.

I remember seeing him hit my mother once, after an argument I didn’t understand at the time. I was young, maybe eight or nine, and the memory had stayed with me like a scar. He’d apologized afterward, and I’d seen my mother brush it off like it was nothing. But I couldn’t forget the sound of his hand striking her cheek, or the way she looked down at the ground, as if she expected more.

That moment shaped me. It made me vow to be nothing like him. Fritz was powerful, respected, and feared—everything I didn’t want to be. I started working for the Empire, throwing myself into any task that would get me away from the Kubas estate. I was granted my own title as Earl and built a life for myself that was separate from my father’s legacy. The Emperor even promised that I could have my own family name when I turned twenty-one. I was determined to be my own man, someone better than the one who had raised me.

But no matter how far I went, I couldn’t escape the shadows of the past. I couldn’t forget Gracie’s bruises, or the way Fritz would speak to her when she made even the smallest mistake. His words cut deeper than I think she ever let on, and every time I saw her wince, it was like a knife twisting in my own chest.

I should have protected her. I should have done more.

When Carlo and Carlyn turned seventeen, I couldn’t keep the truth from them any longer. They were old enough to know what had been happening right under their noses. I told them about Gracie’s suffering, about the bruises and the way their father treated her. They didn’t believe me at first, but the more I explained, the more they realized the truth. Their guilt was palpable. They regretted the way they had treated her, the harshness they had shown her in their youth. But none of us ever told Gracie we knew. We thought it would be better to keep it to ourselves, to protect her from the shame of it all.

In my mind, I thought we would make it up to her. Once Carlo took control of the estate, I thought we could show her kindness, give her the life she deserved. But that future never came. Gracie was murdered before we had the chance.

I’ll never forget the day we found her. The blood, the knife, the empty look in her eyes. She had been ripped away from us, and there was nothing we could do to bring her back.

The guilt had eaten me alive. I had been drawn to her for years, ever since I was old enough to understand the feelings that lingered just beneath the surface. She was my father’s wife, and that made everything complicated, forbidden. But even when I had seen her suffering, I stayed away. I told myself it was the right thing to do—that she didn’t need me to make her life more difficult. I thought I was protecting her by keeping my distance, by avoiding any confrontation with my father.

But in reality, I was just being a coward.

I had failed her. And now, in this second life, I had a chance to change that. I wouldn’t let history repeat itself. Gracie wasn’t going to die. Not again.

But keeping my distance was harder than I thought it would be. Every time I saw her, I was reminded of how much I admired her strength, her resilience. And then there was the guilt, gnawing at me constantly, reminding me that I had been complicit in her suffering by staying silent. I knew I looked too much like my father, a full-blooded dragon shifter with the same piercing gaze and strong build. I feared that every time she saw me, she was reminded of him. And that terrified me.

So, I kept my distance once more, though this time for different reasons. I wanted to protect her, but I couldn’t let myself get too close. Not when the memory of my father’s shadow hung over both of us.

But things were different now. They had to be. I had knowledge of the future, knowledge that could prevent her murder, knowledge that could rewrite everything. And I would use it. I would fix what I had failed to fix before.

Gracie’s murder had left a gaping hole in all of our lives, but it was a hole that I intended to fill with justice. Carlo, Carlyn, the younger children—we all suffered after losing her. And I would never let that happen again.

As I stood on the balcony, looking out over the estate, the weight of my vow settled heavily on my shoulders. The shadows of the past loomed large, but this time, I was ready to confront them.

This time, I would protect Gracie. Even if it meant going to war with the ghosts of our past.