REBORN TO RUIN THE BOARD

CHAPTER 2

Ava's pov

I stood in front of the full-length mirror, smoothing the front of my blouse for what felt like the hundredth time. The reflection staring back wasn’t exactly who I remembered—she was sharper, alert, calculating—but it was still me. My fingers brushed along the collar of my shirt, adjusting it with care. I had survived death once. I wasn’t about to let a little breakfast with my family undo my carefully rebuilt composure.

Downstairs, the familiar clink of silverware and the low murmur of voices reminded me of the world I had returned to—a world I had already lost once, and a world I was about to take back.

I descended the stairs slowly, deliberately. Each step was measured. I needed to appear composed, obedient, the daughter who still played the game… but every movement I made was calculated. I knew every nuance, every slip, every look that could betray me.

Charlotte was already at the table, hair curled perfectly, makeup flawless, humming as if the world was hers. I hated her. And I remembered exactly why. Every smile she offered had been a knife the last time. I swallowed the resentment, tucking it behind my calm expression. The Ava Holden everyone knew would sit quietly, sip her coffee, and nod politely. The real Ava Holden—the one alive now—was planning her next move.

“Good morning, Father,” I said smoothly as I approached the table. He didn’t look up at first, too busy reading his tablet. Typical. His attention always divided, always evaluating.

“Morning, Ava,” he said, glancing briefly at me before returning to whatever numbers were scrolling across the screen. “Big day ahead.”

I nodded, taking my seat across from him. I poured myself a cup of coffee and inhaled the familiar aroma. It grounded me, centered me. I had to remain calm, but the fire inside was ready to ignite.

Charlotte leaned toward me with that sweet, almost-too-innocent smile. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, thank you,” I replied, keeping my tone light but even. I met her eyes, holding them for a beat longer than necessary. The flicker of uncertainty that passed across her features made a small, almost imperceptible part of me smile. It wouldn’t last long, but it was mine for now.

Father cleared his throat. “We need to go over your schedule for the week. Charlotte, you’re helping Ava with the marketing proposals before the board meeting on Thursday.”

I kept my expression neutral. “Of course, Father.” Inside, I was noting every detail: Charlotte would be around, trying to interfere. That meant I had to be careful, deliberate. No mistakes. Every interaction, every suggestion, every glance could be used against me if I let it.

Charlotte’s lips pursed ever so slightly, but she didn’t speak. I didn’t need her to. I had five years to dismantle her carefully crafted image. One slip from her, and it would all come apart.

I sipped my coffee, letting the warmth settle in my stomach. I glanced at Father, noting the slight tension in his shoulders. He always underestimated me. He always had. And it had cost me everything once. Not this time.

I let my gaze drift to the table, scanning the neatly arranged breakfast spread: eggs, toast, fresh fruit. Even the smallest details mattered—Father was precise, methodical. His morning routine was predictable. It was perfect for observation. Perfect for planning.

Charlotte finally spoke, voice soft but sharp underneath. “Ava, I think you should let me handle the social media campaign. You’ve been so busy with the board stuff lately… you wouldn’t want to miss anything important.”

I tilted my head slightly, considering her. The last time, I would have nodded, deferred, and let her take control. This time, I didn’t.

“Thank you, Charlotte,” I said, keeping my voice polite. “I appreciate your offer, but I’d like to review the campaign myself. I’ll need your input, of course.”

Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. I could feel her calculating, already thinking of ways to undermine me. I let her simmer in that for a moment. Let her believe she had the upper hand, even though she didn’t.

Father finally looked up from his tablet, eyebrows raised. “Very well. Let her handle it, Charlotte. Ava, make sure you’re thorough.”

“Yes, Father,” I said, every word measured. I was thorough. I was more than thorough. I would be precise, strategic, unstoppable.

The conversation moved on, but my mind was already working, mapping out the first moves. Charlotte would be around today. Mason would appear at nine, as scheduled. The board meeting was Thursday. I needed to gather information, secure my allies, and begin planting the seeds of their eventual downfall.

I took another sip of coffee, feeling the warmth spread through me. Survival. Strategy. Observation. That would be my mantra today.

Charlotte cleared her throat again, leaning toward Father. “Do you think Ava can handle the board presentation without my guidance?”

I kept my face impassive, but inside, a small spark of satisfaction ignited. She was already trying to provoke doubt, to make herself seem indispensable. She had no idea.

“I trust Ava,” Father said smoothly. “She knows what she’s doing.”

Charlotte’s lips pressed into a thin line. I imagined her frustration bubbling beneath the surface. Perfect. She was predictable. She had always been predictable. And predictability could be exploited.

Breakfast ended with Charlotte leaving to “prepare notes” and Father retreating to his office. I remained at the table, coffee in hand, thinking through the morning. My movements were slow, deliberate. Every detail mattered. Every glance, every word, every gesture could be used to my advantage.

I pulled out my tablet, reviewing last year’s financial projections, employee schedules, and marketing reports. My memory of the previous timeline made the patterns clear. I could anticipate mistakes, spot weaknesses, and prepare countermeasures.

Mason would arrive soon. The man who had betrayed me, stolen from me, humiliated me. Five years early, and I already knew how his plans unfolded. He would try to charm me, manipulate me, and take advantage of my position. But this time, I would be ready.

I rehearsed my words in my mind, each response measured, each reaction calculated. I would not give him an opening. I would not allow his charm or his lies to take root.

I glanced at the clock. Eight-forty-five. Five minutes until he arrived.

I closed my eyes briefly, letting the tension drain from my shoulders. When I opened them, the fire inside was steady, controlled. I was no longer the girl who had trusted blindly. I was alive. I was back. I remembered everything.

And this time, I would not lose.