Reincarnated As The Billionaire's Bride

Chapter 4: Suspicions

Ashley’s POV

Ryan’s eyes were ice. The kind of cold that didn’t just freeze, it cuts.

He held up his phone, the glow of the anonymous email burning like fire between us. “She’s not Laurel Blackwood. She’s Ashley Young. Ask her about Lily.”

“I’ll only ask you this once,” Ryan asked, his voice low, dangerous. “Who are you?”

The walls of the corridor appeared too close, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. My first instinct was to run, but where? Into Clara’s claws? Into Daniel’s waiting smirk? No.

I forced myself to meet Ryan’s gaze. His eyes narrowed like a predator locking onto prey. I didn’t notice as my fingers gripped tightly to my dress, almost tearing it off my body.

I swallowed hard. “Ryan… It’s me. Laurel.”

His jaw tightened. He took four steps closer, trapping me between his body and the wall. “Don’t lie to me. I’ve tolerated your sudden personality shifts. I’ve overlooked your… softer behaviour. But this?” he shoved the phone closer to my face. “Someone thinks you’re dead. And someone thinks you’re Ashley Young. It makes no sense.”

My vision blurred. For one reckless second, I wanted to scream the truth. To tell him that Daniel and Katherine had murdered me. That my baby girl was out there, calling for a mother who’d been erased.

But the image of Lily’s face flashed in my mind, and I knew. If I confessed now, I’d lose her forever.

I forced my lips to tremble. My voice cracked as I whispered, “I…don’t… remember.”

Ryan stilled, raising an eyebrow.

“I…” my voice cracked, and I forced tears to my eyes. “Ryan, I don’t understand. I don’t know why I feel these things. I cry at the death of strangers; I don’t remember who I used to be. Maybe I’m losing my mind.”

The silence stretched. For a long, horrifying moment, I thought he would call my bluff. Then his shoulders shifted, and his hands lowered the phone. His expression softened, not much, but enough for me to see something behind the coldness. Pain.

“You look nothing like the Laurel I know. She was unforgiving. Sharp. Cruel. But you…” His eyes searched mine, almost reluctant, “You’re different.”

Before I could respond, Clara stormed into the study without knocking. “Ryan, the press keeps calling nonstop. That ridiculous outburst Laurel had at the gal…”

Ryan’s glare cut her off immediately. “Get out!”

Clara froze, unused to being silenced by Ryan. Her eyes flicked between us, suspicion burning in them. With a scoff, she spun on her heel and left, her heels striking like gunshots against the marble.

Ryan turned back to me, his voice low. “If you’re lying to me, Laurel…I will find out. But until then…” he reached out suddenly, brushing a tear from my cheek with his thumb. The touch was gentle, surprisingly warm.”Until then, you’re safe.”

Safe. The word lodged in my chest. If only that were true.

That evening, a fresh storm brewed. Ryan insisted we attend a private dinner the next night. “…to quiet the whispers,” as he put it. My stomach twisted. I hated the thought of walking into another room full of hungry wolves.

But what I had yet to find out was that Daniel Parker had been invited.

The restaurant beamed with shiny lights that screamed wealth. Ryan, as always, cut a commanding figure in his navy blue suit, his presence enough to silence conversations when we entered.

Daniel rose from a table nearby, his smile sharp and venomous. “Laurel.” his gaze swept over me with a hunger that made bile rise in my throat. “It’s been too long.”

Ryan’s hand slid to the small of my back, protective, possessive. “Let’s have a seat,” he drew out my seat gently, and I sat.

Dinner was served quickly. My plate was placed before me, and the moment I saw it, my blood turned to ice.

Lobster.

I hadn’t tasted it since I was thirteen. Because one bite would send me into an allergic spiral. Daniel knew it; he’d counted on it.

I glanced at him from across the table. His smile widened, smug. Waiting. Watching.

Ryan’s voice cut through the tension. “Something wrong?”

I forced my lips into a weak smile, my fork trembling in my hand. “No… It’s fine.”

And then, with every ounce of strength I had, I speared a piece of lobster and raised it to my mouth.

Daniel’s eyes narrowed. He leaned forward, anticipation blazing in his gaze. But I chewed softly, calmly, ignoring the panic rising in my chest.

No reaction. Because this wasn’t my body. Laurel wasn’t allergic.

Relief washed over me, but I buried it under a cool facade. Daniel leaned back, forced laughter spilling from him. “Guess I misremembered.”

Ryan’s eyes flickered between us, sharp, calculating. He’d seen the tension. He’d felt the undercurrent.

And when Daniel excused himself to go use the restroom, Ryan leaned close to me, his voice a whisper only I could hear.

“What game is he playing with you?”

I froze. “What do you mean?”

“You looked terrified before you ate that.” His gaze softened, just slightly. “You don’t have to lie to me. Not about him.”

The lump in my throat grew. For a dangerous second, I wanted to tell him everything. About Daniel. Katherine. Lily.

But before I could, Ryan’s phone buzzed.

He glanced at it. And his entire body went rigid. He turned the screen toward me. Another Anonymous message.

A photo.

Me. In Laurel’s body. Standing outside Lily’s school. Tears in my eyes as I watched my daughter from a distance.

The caption burned into my chest like fire: Keep testing fate, Ashley. One step closer, and Lily pays the price.

Ryan’s hand tightened around his phone, his jaw sharp enough to cut glass. His eyes lifted to mine, hard and searching.

“Ashley,” he said quietly, each syllable a blade. “Who the hell are you really?”