Between Dreams and Broken Futures

Chapter 1

Elena Gray awoke with a start, the sunlight streaming through the threadbare curtains tugging her from a strange dream. The air was thick with nostalgia—a different time and place—instead of the bustling New York City she knew, she was somehow thrust into the starkness of the 1960s Midwest. Squinting against the light, she took in her surroundings: a modest bedroom filled with floral wallpaper and mismatched furniture, relics that somehow felt both foreign and hauntingly familiar.

“Not again,” she murmured, shaking her head as if she could erase the wild night she had experienced. One moment she was living her best life, full of career ambitions and solo adventures, and the next, she was a stranger in a strange land, married to some guy back in the ‘60s.

She rolled over, ignoring the echo of her old life and fixation on a newer, albeit bizarre, reality. It turned out she was the wife of her own father—at least in a different world. And the kicker? The woman she was supposed to be supporting was the real wife of the family, a twist that left her reeling. Instead of the glamorous ride she had envisioned, her reality was a rollercoaster of drama where she was merely an unwitting extra, destined for divorce, a plot twist she hadn’t signed up for.

Forcing herself to sit up, Elena caught a glimpse of a young man leaning against the doorframe. William Gray, her son in this world, had his arms crossed and a teasing smirk plastered across his face. Despite his boyish features, something in his eyes twisted her stomach into knots. He looked far too pleased.

“What’s with that smirk?” she shot back, brushing her unruly hair from her face. “Are you trying to blind me with your charm or what?”

His grin widened, and he pushed off the door, approaching her with an exaggerated swagger. “Maybe I’m just trying to figure out whether you finally woke up. Or are you still dreaming of high society and golden boys?”

“Ha! As if I’d want to waste my time with any of those pretentious wannabes,” she retorted, folding her arms. “I have bigger fish to fry, kid. And speaking of frying, we need to get out of this mess before it burns out of control.”

William raised an eyebrow, looking far too amused for her liking. “And you think a midnight escape plan is the answer? You’re still my mom; a little bit of chaos might not be the worst thing, right?”

Elena shot him a sharp look. “This isn’t about you and your teenage antics. I’d love to avoid the whole falling-apart family saga that you’re supposed to endure in this story. We need to take the reins, and fast.”

“Just so we’re clear: when you say ‘we’, you really mean ‘you’ dragging me along, right?” William countered, the shimmer of mischief still dancing in his eyes.

“Of course! I’m not leaving my charming son behind to suffer a miserable fate filled with drama and despair,” she snapped playfully. “You might enjoy the theatrics, but count me out.”

He chuckled, and for a moment, they shared an understanding of the bizarre situation they were dumped into. She needed this plan to work; otherwise, it would be lights out for both their futures. And while she couldn't fathom the road ahead, a sense of determination brewed within her.

“So, what’s the game plan?” he finally asked, curiosity tinging his voice.

Elena pushed herself off the bed, a surge of confidence rushing through her as she faced her son. “We’re gonna flip this script. I’m taking charge, William. You and I? We’re going to write our own ending to this insane tale.”

As William met her gaze, she could see that he was in, a glimmer of exhilaration in his eyes. She smiled, their bond strengthening in the face of the unknown, each aware that survival in this unexpected twist of fate relied on the other. The world around them might have been out of their control, but their next move? That was all theirs to decide.

And with that, Elena set her sights on what lay ahead, ready to rewrite a story that had gone terribly wrong.

Chapter 2

“Hey, what’s going on here? You don’t think William Blackwood’s wife is actually out cold, do you? She’s been lying there forever,” Edward Blackwood said, puffing on his pipe and eyeing his motionless daughter-in-law splayed on the ground.

“She’s not dead. Elena Gray isn’t the type to just kick the bucket. You know how she is—always looking for a free ride. Now she’s hoping to squeeze some cash from our son. I can’t believe she has the guts to stick around after the divorce, talk about shameless,” Margaret Blackwood shot back, glaring at the woman on the floor with palpable disdain.

“Totally. She’s just trying to play the victim to swindle my brother out of money. Look, she’s lying there acting all helpless, but trust me, she’s working an angle,” Rose Blackwood chimed in, a sneer plastered across her face as she refused to give even a glance to the woman on the ground.

Elena Gray vaguely heard their chatter and felt a murky confusion wash over her. The last thing she remembered was a confrontation with that two-timing ex. The nerve of him! Living in her house, using her money, and even bringing home other women? Elena would be damned if she didn’t give him a piece of her mind—after all, she had earned her reputation as the “Ice Queen” for a reason.

They had been tearing at each other in the street. Yes, she recalled being shoved hard; that’s when everything turned black. Then it all came flooding back—a car had hit her. But where was she now? Was this some hospital?

With a sudden gasp, Elena opened her eyes, taking in her surroundings. After a hot minute, she snapped them shut again, doubting her senses.

She shook her head and forced her eyes open once more, this time focusing on the scene before her. The setting was a dismal, ramshackle room. Mud-encrusted walls and a filthy table that appeared to be aged decades filled her line of sight. One corner of the table was propped up with a makeshift block of wood, and the floor was caked in grime.

Two people sat adjacent to that dilapidated table—a man and a woman, both seemingly in their sixties. The man, with scraggly white hair, was dressed in a tattered shirt and was puffing on a pipe, clouds of smoke curling around him. The woman matched him in frugal attire, her hair swept back neatly, but her stern expression made it clear she meant business.

Next to them was a girl, maybe sixteen, with round eyes and an almost cherubic face. Yet an air of superiority radiated from her, making her far from charming.

“Mom, I knew it! Look at Elena Gray; she’s just faking it to con my brother out of money, that dirty leech,” the girl jabbed, her fingers trembling as she pointed an accusatory finger at Elena, spewing venom with every word.

Elena couldn’t believe her ears. The girl was actually onto something. She was hit by a car, and somehow, in the midst of the chaos, her mind recalled a mysterious figure, a man shimmering like sunlight, who spoke to her in cryptic riddles. He had told her she was destined for a long, happy life, but because she once saved him, her fate was twisted by enemies. They had robbed her of her parents, leaving her alone in the world.

Now, with his enemies eliminated, he wanted to repay her. His plan? Transport her to another time, granting her a wish-fulfilling twist of fate. He promised her luck—real luck; that she would attract opportunities like magnets, with treasures and whims about to materialize in her life.

While she had brushed it off then as nonsense, it was all too real now. Her head throbbed painfully; it felt like a thousand memories, spanning over twenty years, were crammed inside her skull.

The girl, not letting up, kept ranting, “You think you can just waltz in here and swindle us? You have no shame!”

Elena’s patience snapped. “Enough! Just shut it.” The pounding in her head combined with the sudden influx of her new memories made it apparent that the girl was no innocent. She had no reason to hold back.

“What did you just say? You want to go?” The girl’s eyes widened with indignation as she marched toward Elena. But just as she was about to reach out, she tripped and fell, crashing to the ground. Dust exploded into the air, swirling around them.

Elena almost laughed, but the ache in her head reminded her of where she was. She had inherited the original Elena’s memories, and now she understood—this was 1960, right at the start of the Great Famine. People were dying everywhere, and while cities bustled with life, they were flooded with the starving and the destitute.

To make matters worse, she wasn’t just in her own reality; she had landed in a contrived romance novel set in a parallel universe. The story was a slice-of-life fantasy, detailing the love story between a time-traveling heroine and a handsome male lead navigating the absurdities of life during a dire time.

And the original Elena? She barely rated a footnote—a passerby in her own story, only mentioned when someone spoke about the son of the antagonist.

What a nightmare.

Chapter 3

Elena Gray couldn’t shake the thought of her son. He was quite the piece of work—the biggest obstacle in the romance between the book’s protagonists. With a genius-level ability in both physics and biology, he had drawn multiple agencies into a protective web around him. Time and again, he managed to sabotage his parents at every turn, and they were powerless to stop him.

It was after one last failed attempt that he had taken his own life. Yes, suicide. The fallout from his death echoed through the corridors of power; leaders regretted not having listened to his demands. Rumor had it that his demise set Avaloria’s technological advancement back decades. Many of the cutting-edge innovations that finally emerged relied on the blueprints he’d left behind—fragments from years past, cobbled together by desperate scientists.

Every time his name came up, those mired in tech felt the sting of regret. For every moment of remorse concerning him, the protagonists suffered another round of humiliation—although nothing too severe, it was a constant drip of annoyance. He’d earned the title of the most notorious villain, crafting chaos even from beyond the grave. If it weren’t for the duo’s undeniable charm, they might have already been done in by his antics.

With another wave of frustration washing over her, Elena considered the environment she now found herself in, her head pounding. But first things first—she had to get out of this situation.

She had a bit of time before the protagonists made their entrance. Upon her arrival, the original Elena's husband, Leonard Blackwood, was in the midst of his divorce proceedings—more accurately, he had already finalized it. In this era, couples didn’t need to meet face-to-face to dissolve a marriage. Leonard had simply shipped over the divorce papers to her.

Of course, the original Elena had put up a fight, throwing herself into a wild scene at the Blackwood household. It was a futile effort; the townsfolk merely labeled her as a nuisance, and with a reputation like hers, she was left without allies. No one was willing to stand up for a woman whom everyone painted as a troublemaker, despite the fact that she was indeed the victim.

Once upon a time, she had been both lazy and gluttonous, frequently refusing to do hard labor in the fields. Every so often, she’d picked a fight with her mother-in-law, Margaret Blackwood, a combination that didn’t exactly win her any fans in the village.

Elena turned the idea of that slanderous reputation over in her mind. Most of it stemmed from the Blackwood family themselves. If she were to judge solely on her own observations, the original Elena wasn't as terrible as her grim reputation suggested.

She’d worked in the fields, albeit at a snail's pace, which, as you can imagine, drove Margaret up the wall. That resulted in more gossip about her laziness. And yes, the disputes with her mother-in-law had come from more than just their personalities clashing. The Blackwood family had yet to divide their household finances, meaning the funds Leonard sent home landed firmly in Margaret’s pocket. Original Elena was understandably unhappy about that arrangement.

In years of marriage, she hadn’t seen a single cent of Leonard’s paycheck. She’d managed to snag a few more scraps for herself, but the disdainful picture Margaret painted of her turned her into some relentless villain—a lazy, malicious woman. It was as if those two words were custom-made for her.

Sure, the Blackwoods portrayed themselves as paragons of virtue. Elena could hardly suppress a scoff at that notion.

Today, the original Elena had set out to confront the Blackwoods about their treatment of her, but during the tussle, she was shoved against the wall. That was when Elena Gray entered the scene.

“Are you okay? Anything hurt? We should head to the clinic,” she heard Margaret’s anxious voice pierce through her thoughts.

Margaret was helping Rose Blackwood to her feet, worry etching lines on her brow. But then, those eyes turned deadly as they locked onto Elena Gray. The original had taken the fall, but Elena wasn’t about to let those insults slide. She’d take a stand against this little sister-in-law.

Without a second thought, Elena charged forward, yanking Margaret aside. She slapped Rose across the face—once, then twice. “What’s wrong with you?” she snapped, delivering yet another two smacks, until Rose's cheek was left crimson and swollen.

Elena paused, her hand stinging from the impact. Wow, that had some heft to it, she thought to herself, feeling a flicker of satisfaction.

Margaret stumbled back in shock, landing on the floor, and Elena didn’t spare a glance in her direction as the scene unfolded.

Meanwhile, Edward Blackwood was still curled up with his tobacco, blissfully unfazed, as if this chaos was just another Tuesday. Was this what they meant by "manifesting your destiny?" The man would usually take notice of commotion—even over his beloved smoke—but today, not a single eyelid fluttered.

“You dare hit me?” Rose croaked, dazed and furious, blinking as the world came back into focus. She glared daggers at Elena, an explosive rage brewing beneath her surface.

Chapter 4

Rose Blackwood glared at Elena Gray, a mix of fury and apprehension churning inside her. For reasons she couldn't quite put her finger on, Elena felt foreign—almost alien—to her now. The tension had escalated; she knew provoking Elena further could lead to serious consequences, and Rose was not ready for that fight.

Elena had every reason to despise Rose. After all, the body she now inhabited had met an untimely death, and Rose's negligence was part of the reason. If only she had been stronger, wiser—perhaps this charade would never have happened. But here she was, stuck cleaning up the mess of someone else’s life.

Yet this wasn’t the time to dwell on her predicament. Elena realized she needed to escape quickly. Her priority was retrieving the son left behind, shackled to a life in a rundown place called Ironforge Works, under the thumb of an unforgiving factory boss.

But she couldn’t leave empty-handed. “You just—”

“Ah! My foot! My foot!”

Elena turned at the sharp scream, eyes widening as she spotted Margaret Blackwood sprawled on the ground, howling in pain while clutching her ankle. Just moments ago, there had been a chair, now upended, its leg broken as a result of a botched attempt to hurl it at Elena. A smirk crept across Elena’s lips. This was karma, and it was sweet.

“Oh dear, Mama, what happened? Is this karma for all the bad things you’ve done? Whoa, is that leg going to heal? What if you end up limping?” Elena feigned concern, her tone laced with delight.

The delight in her expression was unmistakable, and Rose picked up on it. Rage filled Margaret’s eyes as she struggled to point a shaking finger at Elena, but her words were lost in a fierce grip of indignation.

“Ahem, Daughter-in-law, that’s no way to speak to your elders,” chided Edward Blackwood, stepping into the scene with a mix of pride and embarrassment. Tension simmered with every word, and Elena knew Edward was desperate to save face.

Elena shot him a quick glance, her expression blank as a wall. Edward was obsessed with appearances; he’d never allow his family drama to spill out into the world for others to judge. It didn't matter how ludicrous things had gotten; he would keep his mouth shut, even now.

“Mom,” Elena interjected, shifting the focus back. “Honestly, you really messed my head up today. I’m going to need to see a doctor. I’ve lost a lot of blood and need at least three hundred bucks for treatment.”

“Three hundred? You dreamin’? You think your life’s worth that? You’re just some cheap little hustler. No way am I giving you a dime.”

Margaret’s retort was venomous, a piece of phlegm flying through the air like an exclamation mark to her insult.

Elena’s smile faded, replaced by a steely coolness. She was done with empty threats. “Fine, if you won’t pay up, I’ll be sure to have a little chat with Leonard. Let’s share with the world just what kind of man he really is— abandoning his family while his mother here was busy trying to do a number on me. What kind of leader does that make him?”

Her voice dripped with mock cheerfulness, but her eyes betrayed the seriousness of her words. Edward’s brow furrowed, caught in confusion as his cigarette hung unlit between his fingers.

Margaret’s bravado faltered, but she wasn’t giving up easily. “You dare? I’ll break your legs first!”

“Please. Try it, I dare you. I’ve got nothing left to lose. If Leonard didn’t care about our marriage, then why should I?” She locked eyes with Margaret, her gaze sharp as a knife.

There was an old saying: the weak fear the strong, the strong fear the reckless. And in that moment, Elena was reckless.

Margaret’s bravado crumbled under the weight of Elena’s icy stare. The tension in the air was a live wire, and it sent the old shoaler’s heart racing as the realization hit her.

“Okay, let’s get back to that three hundred. You’ve had time to think it over, right? Or should I just grab Leonard and let him know?”

Margaret was hesitant, caught between dread and desperation. She knew if Elena took her threat seriously, it could ruin this family altogether. Money was a heavy burden, but the thought of losing her son loomed larger.

“I…I can’t pay that much," Margaret finally stammered, the wheels in her head turning. “I just can’t.”

Elena was too savvy to let the moment slip. “One price—three hundred. Either that, or I’m outta here.” She turned to leave, hands shoved in her pockets, counting the seconds before she heard a shout.

“Hold it! You come back here!” Edward barked, his voice echoing through the tense silence as Elena stepped toward the door.

Chapter 5

Elena Gray turned around to find herself face to face with him. He placed his pipe down on the table, rising to call out, “Listen, Elena, I’ll give you the money, but you can’t go causing trouble for William Blackwood.”

Not cause trouble? How was she supposed to get her son back without confronting him? Still, she could agree now and handle the consequences later—it was just words, after all.

As for getting back at the Blackwoods, she wasn’t too concerned. The original Elena had gotten into a world of hurt thanks to them, losing everything she had, even her only son. A little retaliation felt justified.

“Alright, I’ll agree.” Elena’s tone was serious, masking the calculating thoughts swirling in her mind about how she could turn the tables on the Blackwoods.

It was clear their family had more resources than she initially thought. With a son who held a pretty sweet position as a factory foreman and another who worked as a laborer, they were leagues ahead of the townsfolk. In this day and age, having a job guaranteed a monthly paycheck—a ticket to security for the rest of their lives. Not to mention, Margaret Blackwood was often bragging about how her son was running a steel mill, managing over a hundred workers. The pride she took in his achievements was insatiable, always fishing for envy from others, as if it somehow validated her existence.

But that son didn’t just bring her pride—he brought in money, too. Margaret had so much wiggle room now; she could hand down some cash and favors to her daughter whenever she liked. Elena felt a twinge of regret. She’d agreed to a meager sum without negotiating harder; she should have asked for more.

“Old woman, go get the money.”

“No, if you want money, wait until I’m dead.” Margaret Blackwood’s retort came with a fierce glare leveled directly at Elena.

“You planning to let Leonard stay out there farming? If not, hurry up with that cash,” Edward Blackwood interjected, pounding his pipe against the table with a solid thud.

“She’s bluffing! She wouldn’t dare!” Margaret sputtered, momentarily lost in disbelief.

Dare? Maybe she’d shied away before, but Elena Gray was someone different now. Edward could read it in her eyes—if they didn't fork over that cash, she really would stir up trouble.

“Go get the money. Since when can’t I make decisions in my own home?” Edward fixed his gaze on Margaret. The firmness in his voice made it clear: he was serious.

Rural women often held their own outside but folded when their husbands stood firm. Reluctantly, Margaret got to her feet, limping toward the back room.

“Don’t forget to grab the ration tickets! Flour, fabric, oil—get whatever you can,” Elena shouted after her. She watched Margaret’s back stiffen, angry but trapped.

Edward’s eyes watched Elena intently, wordless but scrutinizing. She acted like she didn’t notice the suspicion weighing heavily in the room; after all, she’d snagged what she came for. The rest of their opinions didn’t matter to her.

Margaret returned quickly, a big wad of cash clutched tightly in her hands, assorted colorful tickets peeking out from between her fingers.

It looked like a hefty sum until Elena took a closer look. Most of the cash was in five and one-dollar bills, with a few dimes sprinkled in, while the tickets didn’t amount to much more than a couple of pounds’ worth of goods. Did they really think she’d fall for this? The color drained from her face.

For now, it didn’t matter. She needed to claim this cash so she could head to Ironforge Works and bring her son back. She couldn’t let him suffer any longer.

The former Elena had been naïve, taking the blame for everything without gaining anything in return—not a cent to her name.

Other concerns could wait; Elena took a deep breath. She almost considered letting the Blackwoods off the hook, but if they were going to mess with her, she wouldn’t hold back.

“Here, count it—this is all you’re getting,” Margaret said, her voice tight as she shoved the money into Elena's hands. The look on her face was almost comical, the way it twisted in discomfort at parting with what little money she had.

Watching her enemy squirm soothed Elena’s own discomfort. There was something deeply satisfying about it, the tension shifting in her favor.

Elena yanked the cash closer, counting it slowly right there in front of Margaret. Predictably, Margaret’s gaze drifted away, unable to endure watching the act any longer.

But Elena noticed her fingers tightening around her hand, conveying the anger lurking just beneath the surface. Good, let her fume. Elena felt empowered; the weight of the other woman’s disdain barely touched her now.

After a thorough count, she tucked away the cash—this was a windfall. In a world where wages barely crested twenty bucks a month, those three hundred dollars were worth nearly a year’s salary for a worker. She could make it last a few years if she was cautious.

Having achieved what she set out to do, Elena had no reason to linger with the Blackwoods any longer. Unlike the original Elena, she didn’t need their toxic environment. Since coming home, her family had been tolerable enough, but her two sisters-in-law had made her homecoming unbearable with their constant jabs about her laziness and greed. The original Elena had endured, but not her. She wasn’t about to wallow in that mess again—she could fend for herself, even in these tough times.

“Wait,” Edward Blackwood called as she turned to leave. “You have your money now, but if you step foot in William Blackwood’s factory and cause a scene, you can expect a visit from the rest of the family.”

With that, he retreated into the depths of the house, leaving Elena with an unmistakable smirk on her face.

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