CalebThe carriage rocked softly beneath him, the wheels humming over stone as the city began to thin behind them. Trees blurred past the window. Low walls rose and fell like breath. The steady rhythm of travel gave him time to think—something he did too much of lately.
Claire sat across from him, calm as ever, her hair braided high, her eyes focused on a tactical projection crystal displaying the tournament bracket preliminaries.
She hadn't looked at him once.
Caleb didn't mind.
She'd look when it mattered.
He leaned his head back, fingers laced behind it, eyes half-lidded. From the outside, he was relaxed. Powerful. Controlled.
But inside?
He was burning.
Not with rage.
With purpose.
People were getting it twisted—again.
He'd been reborn into this world with memory, drive, and vision. A rare, brutal gift. And what had he done with it?
He'd reclaimed what should've been his.
Claire Wang.
The rising star of the Wang family. The girl who'd ascended in the last life into something mythic. Untouchable. Who would have crushed demons on the battlefield and rebuilt entire sects in her wake.
He had her now.
Not Ethan.
Not the scholar.
Him.
But nothing sat right.
The Empire had started whispering Ethan Zhou's name.
Not loudly.
Not like Caleb's.
But enough.
Enough that it bothered him.
He remembered the footage.
The starforged sword—Qinglan's Silence—placed in Ethan's hands as if it were the most natural conclusion.
The duel with Haoran.
The kneeling moment with Jin Xun.
People had called it restraint. Dignity. Strategy.
Caleb snorted softly.
It was a performance.
Ethan had always been clever. Cautious. Good at surviving.
He'd probably done something smart—something politically neat—and now Lord Li had decided he was useful for a little while.
But when the Li family started to fall apart—and they would—Ethan would be discarded like a broken sword.
Vivian didn't want him.
The marriage hadn't even been consummated. That was the real scandal no one wanted to say too loudly.
Caleb had heard the whispers in the brothel parlor just days ago:
"Vivian's keeping the scholar in the guest wing, and Jun Xun's the one who gets her smiles."
"Apparently, she was livid with him for embarrassing Jin Xun."
"The rumor is all that bowing and scraping was for show, and Lady Li saw right through it."
It was obvious. Vivian hadn't looked at Ethan.
There was no way he could have come up with such a brilliant political move on his own.
Clearly, it was Lord Li trying to undermine Vivian's attachment to Jin Xun.
But nothing had changed.
Vivian always gravitated toward people like Jin Xun.
Not out of love.
(In Caleb's humble opinion.)
Out of control.
Jin Xun would never challenge her.
Ethan might try—but not enough to matter. He was weak, and weak men couldn't stand up to Vivian Li.
And when House Li finally collapsed under the weight of its own arrogance, Vivian would lean more and more on Jin Xun.
Who would eventually betray her.
Caleb was looking forward to watching it.
And Ethan?
Ethan would either be dead, tossed aside, or infected with whatever sickness was rotting the Li family from the inside.
That was fine.
Because Caleb had plans.
He just had to figure out how Claire did it.
In the last life, she had ascended fast. Too fast.
Her family had money, sure. But not that much power. Not enough to move the way she did—until she broke away.
She became something... larger.
More dangerous.
He had watched her from a distance. Never able to get close enough before it all ended.
But now?
Now she was his.
And if he could just unlock whatever had triggered her growth—
He could rise, too.
Not beside her.
In front of her.
The real power in the Wang household.
The one pulling the strings, not playing the part.
He glanced at Claire now.
Still reading.
Still composed.
And he smiled.
She didn't need to love him—though she clearly did. It was too easy.
But what he really needed was for her to talk to him. Rely on him. Trust him.
Then he would take everything that was his.
Let Ethan kneel.
Let him be honored like some clever pet.
Let him carry gifts and titles and borrowed prestige.
Because when the Empire started breaking again, Caleb would be ready.
And this time?
He wouldn't just survive it.
He'd own it.
Even his younger sisters—Emily and Elise, seventeen-year-old twins—emerged from the side hall, wide-eyed and whispering behind embroidered fans. They were just old enough to be impressed without hiding it. Caleb gave them a polished smile.
Only his younger brother, Ryan, stood silently behind their father. Fourteen now, still growing into his limbs. He watched Claire with quiet intensity, his posture trying to mimic Caleb's.
Caleb met his gaze and nodded once.
Ryan looked down immediately.
Caleb's grin widened.
He knew how this would land.
Claire was sharp. Claire was a prize. And because Ethan had always been so private, the family didn't really understand the depth of the betrayal when Caleb seduced her out from under him.
Not that he should feel guilty for that.
His place on high was always destined. It was why he was reborn.
Claire bowed with perfect timing, complimented the stonework, smiled in exactly the way their mother had always wanted a daughter-in-law to smile.
And now she stood here—shining—as servants delivered tribute.
The gifts were tasteful, expensive, rare. Everything a Tier Two house should bring when visiting their in-laws. It was still such a contrast from when he returned home in the last timeline.
Ethan would experience it too.
He would arrive.
Alone.
No Vivian. No elite entourage. No ceremonial wealth.
And when he walked into the same courtyard, with the same family—
There would be no comparison.
Caleb would make sure of it.
He took in the lotus blossoms blooming in the back garden, the sound of Claire's voice complimenting his mother's cooking, the way his father's eyes flicked—just briefly—toward the scroll with the Wang seal.
Everything was lining up.
And this time, he'd be the one who got it right.
The sitting room was warm with the scent of fresh tea and too many expectations.
Margaret Zhou sat in her favorite chair, porcelain cup in hand, the carved arms of the seat worn smooth by years of family gatherings. She smiled brightly as Claire leaned forward with practiced elegance and placed a second cup into her hands.
Claire looked perfect, of course. Not a fold out of place. Not a hair out of alignment.
She made it all look effortless.
To their right, the twins—Emily and Elise—sat side by side on floor cushions, trying and failing to look composed. They were practically vibrating with the excitement of having Claire Wang in their home. The Daughter of the Wang House. The woman who had walked into the Zhou household and made it feel like they mattered.
Caleb sat just to the left of his father, watching it all unfold like it was a performance meant for someone else.
And maybe it was.
He leaned back slightly, letting the comfort of the room settle into his bones.
This was what he'd wanted, wasn't it?
His mother doting. His sisters fawning. His wife shining like a prize.
He was the eldest son.
He had returned victorious.
So why did it feel like he was holding his breath?
The door opened.
No fanfare. No announcement.
Just the quiet creak of hinges and soft footsteps over polished stone.
Ethan walked in holding a gift bundle—a scroll case, a modest lockbox, and a well-folded cloth parcel tied with a single gold-threaded knot. His robes were simple but clean, tailored with the Li crest embroidered in muted tones on the sleeve.
He bowed first to Margaret.
"Mother."
Then to Robert.
"Father."
Then to the rest of the room.
"Apologies for my late arrival."
Margaret stood, flustered, setting her cup aside with more clatter than usual.
"Ethan! Oh, it's good to see you. You look—well, you look very well."
Ethan smiled. "You're kind to say so."
His voice hadn't changed.
But something else had.
Caleb stared at him, brow tightening.
He couldn't put his finger on it.
Ethan's posture was straighter. His steps more assured. There was weight in the room now that hadn't existed a month ago. Something pressed behind his shoulders when he moved. A tension that wasn't arrogance—but wasn't meekness either.
Even Claire looked up from her cup.
Her eyes sharpened just a little. Calculating.
And Caleb felt a flicker of heat in his chest.
When did he get taller?
Ethan handed the gift bundle to Margaret, who opened it slowly.
A bundle of well-aged tea from the eastern coast.
A set of rare inkstones with silver marbling—practical, elegant.
A ceremonial shawl for his mother, enchanted against wind and temperature.
None of it screamed wealth.
But every piece was chosen with care.
And it worked.
Margaret was beaming.
"You brought gifts?" Caleb asked, smiling as he passed Claire another cup.
Ethan nodded. "A modest offering. Lady Li regrets she couldn't attend, but she sends her respects."
Lady Li.
Not Vivian.
Not my wife.
Caleb leaned back, just enough for the words to feel casual.
"Of course, not every wife gets to attend the return," he said smoothly. "Some unions are… more ceremonial than functional."
The room dipped into a quiet beat.
Robert's gaze shifted. Claire's fingers stilled on the tray.
The twins exchanged a quick glance.
Only Ethan didn't react.
He simply adjusted the sleeves of his robe and replied, "The Li household has many obligations. I'm grateful they allowed me the time."
It wasn't a denial.
It wasn't a defense.
But it made Caleb want to grit his teeth.
Margaret cleared her throat—too loudly.
"Well, the gifts are lovely. Truly. I'll wear this at the next harvest dinner—I already know the neighbors will ask where it came from."
The twins nodded enthusiastically, already crowding around to peer at the inkstones.
Ethan smiled again—just slightly.
Robert Zhou said nothing.
But he was watching.
Watching Caleb.
Watching Ethan.
Weighing them.
And Caleb hated how familiar that felt.