Reborn, But He Killed Me First

First Move

"Get out."

Kelvin didn't move at first. He stood there, shirt half-unbuttoned, staring at me with a look that shifted between irritation and a strange, dark curiosity. In my last life, I would have crawled to him, begging for a single night of his time.

Now, I just leaned back against the vanity, swirling my champagne.

"I said get out, Kelvin. Or did the wedding vows affect your hearing?"

His jaw tightened, that familiar, dangerous pulse in his neck that used to make me tremble. "Fine. If you want to spend your wedding night alone with a bottle of booze, be my guest. Don't expect me to be here when you wake up."

He grabbed his jacket and slammed the door. The sound echoed through the sterile luxury of the Dave Manor, a familiar punctuation to my misery.

In my first life, I had collapsed into a heap of white lace and sobbed until dawn.

This time, I waited exactly sixty seconds.

I set the glass down, my movements precise. I didn't have time for tears. I had an empire to build and a father to save.

I stripped off the heavy, suffocating wedding gown, tossing it onto the floor like the trash it was. I pulled on a pair of black leggings and a dark silk blouse I’d hidden in the back of the closet weeks before the wedding back when I was still plain, boring Jessica.

I grabbed my laptop. My fingers flew.

Account 4409. Routing: Cayman Islands.

In my past life, I hadn't realized Kelvin was using my father’s wedding gift of fifty million dollars to fund his secret R&D projects. Not this time. Before the bank could even process the marriage license, I initiated a high-frequency transfer. By the time the sun rose, that money wouldn't be in the Dave Industries coffers. It would be the seed money for The Phoenix Group.

Transfer Pending: 98%... 99%... Complete.

Step one: finished.

I checked the time. 11:10 PM.

In my first life, my father’s heart attack happened at precisely 1:00 AM. If I left now, I had less than two hours to stop the hand that held the poison.

I slipped out through the servant’s entrance, moving like a ghost. I knew the Dave Manor security patterns better than the guards did. I reached the garage, bypassed the GPS tracker on my red Porsche, and eased it out into the night.

The drive to the Marvin Estate was a blur of neon lights and cold fury.

I bypassed the front gates, using the old service code, and climbed the trellis to my father’s second-floor balcony. My heart was thundering, but my hands were ice.

I pushed open the French doors to his study.

The room was dim, lit only by the green glow of a desk lamp. My father sat there, rubbing his temples. On the silver tray beside him sat a small crystal glass of clear liquid. His "nightly tonic."

"Dad?" I whispered.

He jumped, his eyes widening. "Jessica? Good God, child! What are you doing here? It’s your wedding night!"

"I forgot something," I said, forcing a smile that felt like a mask. "A book. One of Mom’s. I couldn't sleep without it."

"You scared the life out of me," he chuckled, reaching for the glass. "I was just about to take my medicine and head to bed."

My stomach did a violent flip. I walked over, my heart in my throat, and accidentally brushed against the tray.

Clang.

The glass tipped, the liquid soaking into the expensive Persian rug.

"Oh! I’m so sorry, Dad. I’m such a klutz tonight. The nerves, I guess."

"It’s alright, sweetheart. I’ll just have Dr. Aris prep another—"

"No," I said, perhaps too sharply. I softened my voice instantly, playing the role of the doting daughter. "Let me do it. I saw where he keeps the vials. You just sit there and tell me about the merger."

I walked to the small medical cabinet in the corner. My hands shook as I found the tonic vial. I sniffed it. It was odorless, but I knew.

I swapped it for a vial of simple saline I’d grabbed from my own first-aid kit.

As I handed him the safe drink, my phone buzzed in my pocket.

A notification from the Dave Manor security system. Master Suite: Motion Detected.

My blood turned to ice. Kelvin was back in the room. If he found the bed empty and the wedding dress on the floor, my dutiful wife act was over before it began.

"I have to go, Dad. Kelvin... he’s waiting."

"Go, go!" My father smiled, patting my hand. "Be happy, Jessica. That’s all I ever wanted."

I kissed his forehead, a silent promise that he would live to see the Dave empire crumble, and sprinted back to the balcony.

I drove like a woman possessed, the speedometer hitting a hundred. I reached the manor, parked the car in the shadows, and scaled the ivy back to my window.

I scrambled into the room, kicked my shoes under the bed, and threw on a silk robe just as the handle to the bedroom door turned.

I dived onto the sofa, grabbing a book and pretending to read.

The door swung open. Kelvin stood there, his hair slightly damp, a glass of scotch in his hand. He looked at me, then at the discarded wedding dress on the floor, then back at me.

"I thought I told you to go to the guest room," he said, his voice low.

"The guest room is cold," I said, not looking up from the page. I kept my voice small, trembling slightly, the perfect broken Jessica. "I figured I’d stay here and stay out of your way."

He walked toward me, his shadow looming over the sofa. He reached out, his fingers brushing the edge of my book.

"You’re reading The Art of War?" he asked, a hint of a smirk on his lips. "A bit heavy for a boring wife, isn't it?"

I looked up, my eyes wide and innocent, hiding the storm of hatred behind them. "I just liked the cover, Kelvin."

He stared at me for a long, silent moment. I could feel the heat radiating from him, the sheer power he thought he held over me. He leaned down, his face inches from mine, his breath smelling of expensive peat and tobacco.

"You're acting strange tonight, Jessica. If I didn't know better, I’d say you were hiding something."

He reached out, his hand sliding toward the pocket of my robe, where my phone was still glowing with the notification of the successful fifty-million-dollar theft.

"What's this?" he whispered, his fingers touching the fabric.

Before I could move, the house's silent alarm began to wail. Not the security alarm but the emergency line.

Kelvin’s phone rang. He pulled back, scowling, and answered it.

"What? ... When? ... Is he fine?"

He looked at me, his face turning into a mask of pure, unadulterated shock.

"It’s your father," Kelvin whispered, his grip tightening on the phone. "He’s been rushed to the hospital. They say he was poisoned."

My heart stopped. I had swapped the vial. He should be fine. Unless... unless there was a second assassin I didn't know about.

But then, I saw it.

A tiny, almost invisible smile touched the corner of Kelvin’s mouth before he masked it with concern.

In that moment, I realized the game was much bigger than I thought. Kelvin wasn't just waiting for my father to die. He had already called the undertaker.

"Dress yourself," Kelvin commanded, his voice cold again. "We have to go maintain appearances."

I stood up, my mind racing. I had saved my father's life, but Kelvin thought he was dead.

This was it. The perfect opening.

"Of course, Kelvin," I said softly, bowing my head. "Whatever you say."

As I turned to get dressed, I looked at my laptop hidden under the pillow. The Phoenix was no longer just a project. It was a war machine. And Kelvin Dave had just handed me the keys to his own execution.