My Graceful Best Friend

My best friend was a bohemian soul, a girl who claimed to breathe only for freedom. After getting pregnant by a billionaire CEO, she insisted on running away to hide the baby. I urged her to stay. Her tone was ice-cold. "I refuse to be a man's plaything. Give me liberty, or give me death." But she had no idea how brutal life was for a single mother. She didn't know that in the real world, ruthless billionaires don't drop to their knees to grovel for a runaway lover. In our last life, I couldn't bear to see her suffer. I talked until my throat bled, convincing her to stay. The CEO didn't hesitate to put a ring on her finger. Yet, even draped in diamonds, she still acted like a tragic bird in a gilded cage. She threw constant tantrums. She staged elaborate suicide attempts to test his love. Eventually, she set the mansion on fire. As the flames roared, she was carried out safely. I was the collateral damage left behind to burn. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the exact day she decided to run away. 1 "Riley, stop trying to talk me out of it. I've made up my mind." "I won't be Victor's little canary. There's no freedom in that house." "I'm going to Europe. I'll raise this baby on my own." Standing outside the private clinic, my best friend Daphne faced me. She looked down, gently resting a hand on her perfectly flat stomach. Her eyes were distant, carrying that signature aloofness she wore like a crown. The doctor had just confirmed she was three months pregnant. The father was my boss. She could have easily used this child to secure her place in high society. Instead, her very first instinct was to run. In my past life and this one, I could never wrap my head around her logic. Was a life of absolute luxury by a billionaire's side really that terrible? Why was she so desperate to go starve in a foreign country? She was soft, incapable of heavy lifting, and completely unequipped for the real world. Surviving alone abroad would be a nightmare. More importantly, she had no passport, no visa, and couldn't speak a word of a foreign language. Even buying groceries would be a struggle. In my last life, I laid all these harsh truths out for her. It only fueled her stubbornness. "I'll find a way. I know people who can get me across the border unnoticed." "Once I'm there, I'll wash dishes. I'll support myself." "You care too much about money, Riley. You'll never understand. Even if I die in the gutters of a foreign street, I will never be his caged pet. Give me liberty, or give me death!" Back then, my head throbbed watching her play the misunderstood heroine. I begged and pleaded until she finally agreed to stay with Victor Sinclair. Victor didn't want the mother of his child to suffer any indignity. He married her immediately. After she gave birth, he even stepped back from his empire, spending months solely focused on her and the baby. To the outside world, she was living a fairy tale. But it was never enough for her. She spent her days weeping by the window, complaining to anyone who would listen that she had no freedom. When she got bored, she started playing with death. Slashing her wrists. Swallowing pills. Threatening to jump from the balcony. She was saved every single time. Until one evening, she insisted I cook her favorite meal. While I was in the third floor prep kitchen preparing her specialized dietary plan, she set the house ablaze. The rescue team arrived and pulled her out immediately. I was trapped. A burning beam from the ceiling collapsed, crushing my skull. I blacked out. Later, as a ghost hovering in the smoke filled air, I saw Daphne sitting safely on the grass, looking utterly bored with the world. When the firefighters asked if anyone else was inside, she kept her mouth shut. She stared blankly ahead as if she had no earthly tethers left. She knew exactly where I was. One word from her, and they would have rushed up to save me. But she said nothing. She just watched the crew spray water onto the inferno, layer by layer. By the time they found me, I was nothing but ash. Now, the smell of suffocating smoke still felt raw in my throat as I blinked and stared at her face. "Riley? Why aren't you saying anything?" Daphne waved a hand in front of my eyes, waiting for my usual panicked response. I took a deep, shaky breath, forcing the violent tremors in my hands to stop. Since she loved freedom so much, fine. This time, I wouldn't stand in her way. I looked her dead in the eye and spoke slowly. "It's your life. You have to make your own choices. I can't decide for you." "I knew you wouldn't understand... wait, what?" Daphne choked on her words. A flash of genuine shock broke through her icy facade. The self righteous speech she had prepared died in her throat. "You aren't going to try and stop me?" I couldn't hold back a bitter laugh. "Why would I waste my breath? You're an adult. If you want to leave, who am I to tie you down?" Go ahead, Daphne. I really wanted to see how a girl who hadn't even finished high school was going to conquer the world abroad. 2 "So, when are you leaving?" I asked. Victor was due back from his business trip in three days. If she didn't run now, she'd miss her window. She tilted her chin up, her gaze drifting to the sky. "There is no rush. I need to make some preparations." Daphne's idea of "preparations" was packing up every single item she owned in the mansion. Well, almost everything. She deliberately left behind a few pieces of her most intimate lingerie. A silk nightgown tucked into the corner of his study. A lace bralette draped near the dressing room door. A delicate slip left in the private gym. Places where Victor's hands would naturally graze. It was a calculated setup, designed to make him ache with longing every time he saw them. "I've sorted everything. I might have left a few things behind. Victor will probably just throw them away when he sees them." She feigned complete indifference, shrugging her shoulders. Finally, the day before Victor's return, Daphne headed to the docks. Her grand plan to go abroad was paying a shady fixer to sneak her onto an unregistered cargo ship. When I found out, I was speechless. She stood by the pier holding a tiny, vintage leather suitcase, wearing a pristine white floral dress, waving goodbye to me as the sea breeze caught her hair. It looked like a beautifully framed shot from a romance movie. A second later, a massive, sweaty dockworker shoved his way into the frame, glaring at her. "You're wearing that fancy crap to squeeze into a shipping container? It smells like rotting fish and piss in there. A fragile little thing like you won't last a day." Daphne raised her chin even higher. Her voice was crystal clear. "For the sake of my soul's freedom, physical hardship means nothing." The worker rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath. "Sneaking out on a freighter for freedom. Chick's got rocks in her head." He was right. By choosing this dark, illegal route, she was condemning herself to live like a rat in the shadows. But she clearly had no concept of the brutal reality awaiting her. Just before boarding, she played her final dramatic card. "Take this black card back to Victor for me. Make sure you tell him that a free spirit can never be bought with money..." Before she could finish her monologue, I snatched the sleek metal card right out of her fingers. "The ship is leaving. Text me if you have anything else to say." Daphne's hand froze mid air. She stared at her empty fingers, then up at me. Her expression cracked, looking genuinely bewildered for a split second. She definitely didn't expect me to take the card so easily. In the past, terrified she would starve, I would have begged her to keep it. She forced a stiff smile. "I guess... I really am leaving now." She kept looking back over her shoulder as she walked up the ramp. I ignored her theatrical lingering. I turned on my heel and walked away fast, terrified she might actually change her mind and chase after me. The next day, Victor returned from his trip. I prepared his customized nutritional dinner, just like always. Casually, I mentioned that Daphne had packed up and left. Victor sliced his steak. His expression didn't even flicker. In my previous life, once he knew about the pregnancy, he instantly dragged her to meet his parents and gave her his name. This time, hearing she had abandoned him, he didn't lift a finger to chase her. That was Victor Sinclair. If you were his woman, he would drown you in wealth and luxury. But the moment you decided to walk away, he wouldn't even blink. As his private nutritionist for the past five years, I knew exactly how he operated. Daphne was just too blind to see it. 3 The intimate items Daphne left behind were found by the housekeeper within two days. They went straight into the trash. The limited edition silk slip was the only exception. The housekeeper was too afraid to toss something so expensive and brought it to Victor for instructions. Victor was reviewing a stack of contracts. He didn't even look up. "If it's garbage, throw it out." There was zero lingering affection. Zero heartache. Daphne's pathetic little mind games were tossed out with yesterday's trash. A few days later, a new face appeared at the estate. Her name was Stella. She was vibrant, radiant, and the exact opposite of Daphne. She loved to talk. Wherever Victor went, she followed, chattering away with a bright smile. And Victor, a man notoriously obsessed with absolute silence, never once looked annoyed. He never had this much patience with Daphne in my last life. I couldn't help but root for them. That was when Daphne made her first overseas call. "Riley, how is Victor holding up? Is he going crazy looking for me?" "You have to swear you won't tell him where I am. Promise me." I glanced toward the living room, where Victor was chuckling at something Stella said. I decided to be honest. "You don't need to worry. He's busy entertaining a new woman. He doesn't have time to look for you." Dead silence on the other end. Then, a soft, dismissive scoff. "Heh. I've only been gone a week, and he's already desperately searching for a replacement?" Before I could speak, she kept going. "Does she look like me? Is it the eyes? Or the way she smiles?" "Victor is just trying to distract himself. Give it three days. He'll be sick of her." I didn't have the energy to argue. "Yeah, sure. Whatever you say." Satisfied, she hung up. But three days passed, and then another three. Stella was still practically living at the mansion. Even the heavy curtains in the master suite were swapped out for a bright, sunny fabric she preferred. Every last trace of Daphne was being systematically scrubbed clean, replaced by vibrant colors. When Daphne called again, I was preparing afternoon tea for Victor and Stella. Stella's infectious laughter echoed clearly through the phone's receiver. Daphne paused. Her voice carried a faint, barely disguised edge of panic. "That replacement is still there?" My stomach tightened. Was Daphne going to change her mind and come back to fight for her spot? "Victor is so childish. Does he really think parading another woman around will force me back?" "I am a wild hawk. I belong to the sky. I won't clip my own wings just to orbit a man like those pathetic girls." Exhale. I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. For a second there, I thought she had actually grown a brain. Luckily, she was still choking on her own ego. I relaxed completely. I had zero intention of telling her that Stella wasn't a replacement at all. She was Victor's first love. I had only just found out myself. Victor and Stella had dated in college but were forced apart because their family backgrounds didn't match at the time. Stella was sent abroad to study by the Sinclair family. They had been separated for seven years. In the previous life, by the time Stella returned, Victor was already married to Daphne. Because of his sense of duty, he kept his distance. Stella, having fierce boundaries of her own, never crossed the line. There wasn't a hint of infidelity. But this time, there was no Daphne in the way. I knew it was only a matter of time before they rekindled the flame. Blissfully unaware, Daphne remained convinced that Victor couldn't breathe without her. Her tone shifted back to that annoying, airy arrogance. "Tell that poor girl not to get her hopes up." "I don't mean any harm. As a fellow woman, I just pity her. What's the point of being someone's shadow? She should leave before she gets her heart broken." 4 I reached out to Brooke, an old friend who ran a restaurant in Europe, and asked her to keep tabs on Daphne. Daphne was an undocumented immigrant with no working papers. With her complete lack of skills, the only job she could possibly land was scrubbing dishes in an underground kitchen. The expat community is small. As long as Daphne walked into a restaurant in that district, word would reach me. Until Victor and Stella were officially locked in, I needed to make sure Daphne stayed far, far away. For the next few days, Daphne didn't call. Instead, she was busy curating her social media feed, posting aesthetic collages of her new European life. She always idolized everything foreign, convinced the air overseas was somehow purer. Mutual friends flooded the comments with envy. [Wow! Did you move abroad for work?] [Just starting a new chapter, nothing major.] [What kind of work?] [Oh, just diving into the culinary industry.] [That's amazing! You must be managing a high end bistro! I have to visit you!] [Stop, it's just a little passion project.] She deflected the questions flawlessly, keeping up her humble, artsy persona. But reading those replies now, the suffocating stench of her vanity was overwhelming. Not long after, Brooke called with an update. She sounded entirely baffled. "Riley, did you really grow up in the same foster home as this girl?" "She is completely useless. She shatters plates, leaves grease on the pans, and complains about the water ruining her hands. She's been fired from three different places in under a month." "No one in the district wants to hire her anymore." Exactly as expected. We did grow up in the foster system together, but she always acted like a deposed princess. She refused to lift a finger, playing the delicate flower while I fought our battles and handled the dirty work. Her entire life had been shielded from consequence. She was basically a spoiled aristocrat without the trust fund. That was why I fought so hard to stop her in our last life. I knew she couldn't handle the grind. Without Victor's money and my constant care, she would drown. And here she was, sinking fast. Brooke had a soft heart. She couldn't stomach the thought of a pregnant woman sleeping on the streets, so she offered Daphne a lifeline. "I took her in as a waitress. She's over six months pregnant. If I don't give her a shot, she won't survive the winter here." Waitressing was miles better than slaving away in a dish pit, and she could actually earn tips. I didn't object, but I gave Brooke a strict warning. "Do not tell her we know each other." Dying and coming back to life had opened my eyes. Daphne was a parasite who only drained the people closest to her. If she knew Brooke was my friend, she would milk her dry. Meanwhile, back at the estate, Victor and Stella's romance was brewing. But it was agonizingly slow. It had been over a month, and they were still in the hand holding phase. Neither wanted to cross the line first. If they weren't in a rush, I was! So, on a perfectly quiet evening, I orchestrated a breathtakingly romantic candlelight dinner on the terrace. Maybe it was the expensive vintage wine. Maybe the moonlight was just right. That night, Stella pulled Victor into the master bedroom by his tie, and the door didn't open until late the next morning. The ship had finally sailed!