Claimed At First Sight

Reign blinked at the sterile white ceiling of her hospital room, her mouth dry, her body heavy and stiff from the long hour of sleep. Two days ago, she had woken up in the middle of the night with pain so sharp it had stolen her breath. The incision site from her appendectomy, done two weeks prior, had felt like it was tearing open from the inside. Terrified, Reign had called her mother first. It's just an appendix, Reign. Stop being dramatic. Those had been Miranda's exact words, delivered over the phone with the kind of frustration usually reserved for children throwing tantrums. Never mind that Reign was twenty-four years old, alone in her apartment at 3 AM, clutching her side and trying not to cry. But thankfully, the doctor had examined her and assured her it was nothing serious. The stitches were intact. She just needed to rest and avoid straining herself. And that is exactly what she had been doing since then. Resting. Reign shifted slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position, but stopped when her phone buzzed on the bedside table. She reached for it automatically, thinking it was a man, but the screen showed Faeth's contact photo instead: her best friend grinning maniacally at the camera, tongue out, peace signs up. Swallowing down her disappointment, she swiped to answer, her voice still rough from disuse. "Hey." "You won't believe what I just found out," Faeth screamed into the phone, her voice sounding breathless. "Faeth, I literally just woke up from…" "Uncle Ash has a girlfriend." Reign sat up so fast that white-hot pain pierced through her abdomen, stealing her breath. How does? How did she know? We were so careful... "I mean, it would've been fine if it weren't for who it is," Faeth continued, oblivious to Reign's internal panic. "But of course it had to be that slutty, obnoxious bitch..." "What?" Reign frowned, clearly confused now. "What are you talking about?" "Ugh!" Faeth huffed, and Reign could picture her exactly: flopping dramatically onto one of the deep-cushioned settees in her house. "So I went to Uncle Asher's place this morning and walked in on the most terrifying butt-gripping scene ever. I found a naked woman on top of my naked uncle." Faeth rushed out, and Reign's blood went cold. "What?" "I know, right! I literally screamed. And you know what the worst part is?" Faeth's voice climbed higher. "It was Kora." The name hit like a physical blow. Reign blinked once, then twice. Kora. Kora Hayes. My stepsister? "No." She whispered, more to herself. "I wish I were making this up, Rey. Trust me, I would give anything to unsee what I saw. But nope. There she was, stark naked, straddling my uncle. And the worst part? She smirked at me. Like she wanted me to see. Can you believe that?" Reign's hand trembled against the phone as her brain automatically started picturing Faeth's description. This wasn't real. It couldn't be real. "Faeth," Reign managed. "Are you sure?" "I'm switching to video. You need to see this." Faeth's face filled the screen in an instant, then she flipped the camera. And there, strutting toward a waiting car, was Kora. Reign would have recognised that walk anywhere. Everyone would have. Kora Hayes, influencer extraordinaire, had made that specific strut her trademark: hips swaying with exaggerated precision, shoulders back, chin high. It looked unnatural, like she was forcing her joints to move in ways they weren't designed for, but somehow the fashion world had eaten it up. #KoraWalk. Her followers called it. But that wasn't what made Reign's heart stop. It was the man following behind her. Asher. Tall, dark-haired, wearing nothing but beach shorts and a sleeveless tank top. He caught up to Kora on the sidewalk. They turned to face each other. Reign couldn't hear what they were saying, but she didn't need to. She could see everything. Kora, with the wind tossing her blonde hair, leaned in and kissed him. It wasn’t a quick peck. It was a long and intimate kiss. And the worst part? He didn't pull away. "Ewww, oh my god." Faeth flipped the camera back, her expression nauseated. "I cannot watch this. Your stepsister is literally making out with my uncle, and I might actually throw up. I can't believe he'd stoop so low as to date someone like Kora." Reign couldn't speak. Her throat had closed, and her chest felt too tight. "I mean, their age gap!" Faeth continued. "It's like him dating me. It's disgusting. Ugh!" Faeth shuddered. "I need to bleach my brain. How am I supposed to look at him now? Especially her... ugh!" Reign didn't realize she was gripping her phone so tightly that her knuckles had gone white. Or that her incision was throbbing from the tension in her body. Asher and Kora? That just didn't make sense. Asher hated Kora. That fact was palpable. He had called her vapid, shallow, narcissistic. Even his attitude toward Kora showed it. He never hid it, and neither did she. Had he been lying? Had they been playing enemies in public while playing lovers under the blanket? "Rey? Reign, are you even listening to me?" The door swung open, and a nurse stepped in, her expression faltering when she saw Reign sitting rigid in bed. "Miss Sutton, you really shouldn't be sitting like that," the nurse said, moving quickly to her side. "You'll strain your incision." "I'm fine." Reign's voice came out flat. But when she tried to ease back down, pain exploded through her abdomen like fire. She gasped, her free hand flying to her side. "Easy, easy," the nurse murmured, supporting Reign's shoulders. "Your surgery was two weeks ago, but the site is still healing. Sitting up like that puts pressure on the stitches." "Reign!" Faeth's face filled the screen again. "Oh my god, are you okay?" "She's fine," the nurse said firmly, but she needs to rest." "I'm coming over…" "No." The word burst out with more force than Reign intended. "Don't. I'm fine. I just need to rest." "But…" "Please, Faeth. I'm okay. I promise." Faeth's expression said she didn't believe that for a second, but she nodded reluctantly. "Text me later, okay?" "I will." "Love you, babe." "Love you too." Reign ended the call before Faeth could say anything else. The nurse fussed over her for another few minutes, checking her bandage, asking questions that Reign answered mechanically, until finally the nurse left, and Reign was finally alone. She stared at the ceiling, her heart pounding from what she had just found out. How could that be possible? She and Asher had been together for three years. Three years of secret dates and stolen kisses, of whispered "I love yous" in dark apartments, and never had she seen a sign of him liking Kora. Not everything needed an audience, he had said; some things were better kept real and private. Reign believed him. She didn’t want the attention either. Going public would only draw eyes to her, something she detested. It was why she avoided elite events and used her mother’s last name at work. More importantly, he was her best friend’s uncle; it would look wrong, and she feared ruining the only relationship that felt real and stable in her life. So she understood him when he cancelled dates for a “work emergency” or “business trip,” even when he knew she’d be alone, especially on days Kora was far away. Had he been with Kora those times, too? The thought made her stomach turn. Slowly, Reign unlocked her phone and opened i********:. Kora's profile loaded immediately. Two hundred thousand followers, professional photos, sponsored posts and daily routine posts with obvious filters to amplify her looks. But the first post, posted a few hours ago, was what caught Reign's attention. It was a photo of Kora seated in the backseat of a car with a clean, luxurious interior. The camera was focused on her face as usual, but it was angled in a way that showed her exposed thigh, and on it lay a man's head. The caption read: He couldn't wait to see me despite being exhausted. Reign’s heart clenched painfully, a gasp slipping from her dry lips. That was Asher. She had called him the night before, complaining about her stomach, and he’d said it was too late, and there was nothing he could do. There had been no empathy, no comfort in his voice. And she had assumed he was just tired, even blamed herself for waking him at 1 a.m. All the while, he had been with Kora. While Reign lay alone, craving his comfort, he had been under the sheets with another woman. Reign felt stupid; she couldn't stop the tears spilling down her temples, soaking into the pillow. Her phone buzzed in her hands, "Mother" flashed on the screen. Reign stared at the name for three rings before accepting. "Finally." Her mother hissed. "Do you have any idea how embarrassing yesterday was for me?" Reign blinked. Yesterday? "The Stone family meeting," Miranda continued, her voice tight with anger. "The one you completely failed to attend. Do you know how that makes me look?" I was in the hospital, Reign wanted to say. I was terrified, and you told me I was being dramatic. But what was the point? "Are you even listening to me?" "Yes, Mother." "Good. Because I've arranged another meeting tomorrow night with a very suitable young man." Miranda's tone shifted, becoming almost businesslike. "His name is Marcus Pearson. Twenty-seven comes from a respectable family. Most importantly, he's... manageable." Manageable. That was her mother’s definition of “not good enough.” She wanted Reign to marry into a wealthy family. But despite all her efforts, Miranda couldn’t secure a meeting with the top elites. After her father, David Sutton, died, Miranda took control of the company shares and pushed Reign to marry richer to expand their wealth. When Reign refused, her mother cut off her access to the family money, leaving her completely at Miranda’s mercy. "The reservation is at Hotel del Crey," Miranda continued. "Private room 1008. Six-thirty tomorrow evening. Wear something modest. And for God's sake, smile. You always look so sullen." Reign stared at the ceiling. Her mother hadn't asked how she was feeling. Hadn't asked if the pain had gotten better. All Miranda cared about was the marriage, the inheritance, and making more money. Just like Asher had cared only about her body. The thought should have broken her. Well, it did. But underneath the pain, Reign felt something else rising. Something cold and reckless. "Fine," she said. Silence. Then: "What?" "I said fine. I'll go." "You... you will?" Miranda sounded genuinely shocked. "Yes." "Oh. Well. Good." Miranda's voice became quick. "I'll send you Mr Pearson's information now. Remember, modest dress, pleasant demeanour. This is important, Reign." For your personal gain, of course, Reign thought. "Is there anything else?" she asked, her voice perfectly even. "No, that's all…" Reign ended the call. For a long moment, she just lay there, phone resting on her chest, her heart feeling like it was shredded. Asher had been cheating on her with her stepsister for God knows how long, her mother was trying to auction her off to the most beneficial bidder, and Reign...? She was done being used, done being controlled, done being the secret girlfriend and the dutiful daughter and the convenient pawn. If her mother wanted to marry her off, fine. But it would be on Reign's terms now. She would go on this blind date. Meet this "manageable" man. But she'd be playing her own game, not her mother's. The thought was dangerous, reckless, and completely unlike anything Reign had ever done in her careful, controlled life. But the old Reign, the one who believed in Asher's promises, was dead anyway. Killed in a hospital room by a phone call and i********: posts.