Reborn Assassin Wife: The Ruthless Billionaire's Obsession

"Astra/Yelena" "What the f**k," I groaned as I tried to open my eyes. Pain was the first thing I felt the moment I opened them. It was not the dull kind. Not the kind you try to breathe through. I frowned. This was getting ridiculous. If death felt like this, I wanted a refund. Wait… if I’m dead, then how am I feeling pain? My eyelids fluttered open. The ceiling was white, the light was too bright, and everywhere was pristinely clean. Hospital? I’m pretty sure I died. I lay there for a second, staring up, waiting for memory to settle. It didn’t. The only thing I remembered was getting stabbed and his face. I clearly remembered how the cold steel slid between my ribs like it knew exactly where to go. A hand gripped my shoulder, holding me in place. I didn’t need to see his face. I knew he was the one. “…why?” My voice came out broken, disbelieving, as he twisted the knife in me. My breath hitched, something wet filling my lungs. “I’m sorry,” he said, almost gently, and pulled the knife out. Liar. Darkness swallowed everything before I could decide whether I wanted to kill him… or laugh. But why am I feeling this pain again? It’s getting persistent and annoying. I looked around the hospital room for a moment. The machine was beeping loudly as I pulled the IV from my hand. I need to pee. I dragged myself to the bathroom to relieve myself and get out of this place. The bathroom looked like a replica of the room pristinely clean. I saw my reflection in the mirror, then turned back. Why am I looking at a different face? Wtf. My scarred face was replaced by a beautiful, pale one. I paused for a moment. I had clearly died. And now I’m in someone else’s body. Could I have transmigrated into another person’s body? I shook my head. That’s impossible. But… "I can't deal with this right now," I murmured hoarsely. "I need to get out of here." Fragments of memories crashed into me without warning. I held the door handle to stop myself from falling. But the memories are not mine. They played in front of me like it was happening in real time. I watched as this body was pushed from the staircase and slipped. A name was clear in my head Yelena Randov. I went still. Then I exhaled softly. “Ah.” So that’s what this is. Not amnesia. Not confusion. I tilted my head slightly, staring at the ceiling as the realization settled in with eerie clarity. I died. And now… I’m in someone else’s body. A slow smile tugged at my lips. “…how inconvenient for everyone involved.” My memories remained intact. Training, missions, the cold satisfaction of a kill they flooded in fragments. But there was a gaping hole, an entire year missing before the moment I died. And now I’m in this weak, curvy, 5’5 frame that felt foreign. I stared back at the puppy-brown eyes instead of my sharper gaze. My smile faded just slightly. Interesting. I paused when I started hearing voices before realizing they were coming from outside my door. “…how did she wake up from coma?” “I did not think she would wake up?” “She always does. Unfortunately.” Are they talking about me? Lovely. I didn’t move. I didn’t say a word. “She has to wake up,” a woman said, her voice trembling in a way that felt rehearsed. “Because of the Hales deal. But if she realizes that we—” “Lower your voice,” a man snapped. Irritation, not concern. “If she dies, she’s useless. If she lives… we proceed as planned.” I kept my breathing slow, shallow, unnoticeable. “What if she remembers?” a younger voice asked curiously. “She won’t.” Oh, I definitely do. They were silent for a while, then the man said calmly, “Even if she does, what can she do about it?” Something sharp and familiar settled in my chest. It was not fear but amusement. Bold of you. Very bold. I stepped out of the bathroom. “Darling! Oh my God, Yelena!” A woman with too much Botox and fake concern rushed forward. Yelena—no, me. I stared at her, cataloguing every face around me. The man I instinctively knew was “my father” looked annoyed rather than worried. A younger blone girl, hid a smirk behind her hand. The room shifted as someone moved closer. I felt eyes on me. Pretending to care. My lips curved into a tiny, dangerous smile even through the pain. They think I’m prey. They had no idea who had just woken up in their disposable daughter’s body. My lips curved into a smile. “Alright then,” I whispered. “Game on.”