Reborn, But He Killed Me First

The smell of the hospital was so thick I could taste it. It was the scent of the end. I stared at Kelvin. He was at the window, framed by the skyline, suit sharp, hair neat. He didn’t look like a man who’d spent six months watching his wife die. He looked like a man who’d spent six months at the office. “Just sign the damn thing, Jessica. Stop making this a scene.” He didn't even turn around. He was busy fixing his tie, the blue silk one I’d bought him for our third anniversary. My chest felt tight, but it wasn't just the failing lungs anymore. It was the sheer, ugly irony of it. I looked down at the papers on my lap. Divorce Decree. My hands were shaking so hard the paper rattled. My skin was translucent, stretched over bone. I’d given this man everything. My trust, my inheritance, my youth, even my kidney for his mother’s surgery. And this was the payout. “Kelvin…” My voice sounded like dry leaves scraping on pavement. “I’m dying. Is it that hard to wait a few more days?” “A few days is too long when you’re in love, Jessy.” The voice didn't belong to Kelvin. Sarah, my stepsister, stepped into the room. She looked disgustingly beautiful. She was wearing a Chanel coat that probably cost more than my entire treatment, and around her neck... my mother's diamond necklace. The one Kelvin said he'd lost. “We have a wedding to plan,” Sarah said, her lips curving into a smirk as she slid her arm through Kelvin’s. “And honestly? Your… situation… is starting to affect the company’s stock. People don’t like a CEO with a ‘dying wife’ cloud hanging over him. It’s depressing.” I looked at Kelvin, waiting for him to snap at her. To defend me. He just checked his watch. “You were a good business move for a while, Jessica,” he said finally, his eyes hitting mine with the impact of a car crash. “But Sarah is what I actually want. You were just a stepping stone.” The heart monitor started a frantic, uneven rhythm. Beep. Beep-beep. My chest felt like someone was standing on it. The betrayal did what the kidney failure couldn't, It broke me. With a final, agonizing surge of spite, I grabbed the pen and scrawled my name. I didn't hand it to him. I let it flutter to the floor like trash. “I hope you both rot,” I choked out. The last thing I saw was Sarah complaining about the death smell and Kelvin calling a nurse to tell them to handle the arrangements quietly. One more chance, I screamed in the dark of my mind. Just one more chance and I’ll burn his world to the ground. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- I gasped. Air flooded my lungs, real, clean air. It didn't smell like the hospital. It smelled like expensive lilies and vintage champagne. I scrambled back against the headboard, my heart thumping against my ribs like a caged bird. My hands… I held them up. They were full. Healthy. Pale, but glowing under the light of a crystal chandelier. I wasn't in a hospital. I wasn't cold. I was in the Dave Manor bridal suite. I caught my reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirror. I looked twenty-three again. No sunken eyes. No sallow skin. I was wearing a lace negligee that cost five figures. It was my wedding night. I was back. The heavy door pushed open. Kelvin walked in, tossing his tuxedo jacket onto a velvet armchair. He looked younger, meaner, and far too handsome. He didn't even glance at the bed. “Look, let’s get one thing straight,” he said, unbuttoning his cuffs with practiced boredom. “Don't think this marriage means I’m actually yours. It was a move to keep the board happy. I’m not touching you tonight, and I probably won’t tomorrow either. Go sleep in the guest room or on the floor. I don’t care which.” In my first life, those words had shattered me. I’d spent this night sobbing into a pillow while he went out to see Sarah. But that girl was dead. I stood up slowly, feeling the strength in my legs. I walked over to the side table, picked up a half-full glass of champagne, and drained it. It burned perfectly. I looked at him, really looked at him, and started to laugh. Kelvin paused, his hand frozen on his shirt button. He frowned, his eyes narrowing in confusion. “What’s so funny?” “You,” I said, my voice cold and incredibly steady. “I was actually wondering how I was going to keep your hands off me without making a scene. Thanks for doing the heavy lifting.” I walked toward him, stopping just inches away. I could smell his cologne, the same one he’d been wearing the day he handed me the divorce papers. “The guest room is down the hall, Kelvin. Since you’re the one with the problem, you should probably head that way. I’d hate for my boring presence to ruin your night.” I reached up and patted his cheek, a mocking, light touch that made his jaw go tight. “Get out. I have a lot of work to do, and you’re distracting me.” I didn't wait for him to respond. I turned my back on him, sat down at the vanity, and opened my laptop. I didn't care about his shocked silence. As my fingers flew across the keys, I froze. There, at the bottom of the ledger, was a transaction dated today. A private payment to a medical clinic. The date on the screen was tonight. My heart stopped. In my first life, my father died of a sudden heart attack two hours from now. I didn't find the truth about the poisoning until it was too late. But I'm not too late this time. I'm not just here to ruin Kelvin, I'm here to stop a murder.