Reborn, I Shatter the Rich Family’s Hunting Game

The cold seeped in from deep within her bones. Evelyn Blackwood opened her eyes to the sound of freezing rain. The water snaked down the Gothic windows, mirroring the trails of blood that had dripped from her fingertips in her past life as she lay dying. It wasn't a dream. She raised her hand. There was no vicious scar across her palm, no raw marks from ropes that had bound her in the dark. The skin was smooth, the nails manicured—the hands of Mrs. Blackwood, the pampered wife, not the cornered animal who had spent her final days huddled in a damp basement, devouring financial law books by the glow of a dying screen. Memory surged back in a violent tide. On this very night in her past life, she had been preparing for their anniversary gala, believing Adrian’s lies of a "surprise." She hadn't known it was the opening act of a hunt. Her stepmother had forged her mother’s will; the Su family had conspired with the elders of the Gu family. And her husband, Adrian Blackwood—the man perched atop the apex of the criminal underworld—had watched it all with cold detachment, even crushing her final desperate call for help under his polished shoe. "Evelyn, don't blame me. This world has always been about the survival of the fittest." The voice still echoed in her ears, dripping with nauseating superiority. Evelyn rose slowly, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. She pressed her bare feet into the cold wool carpet. There was no screaming, no breakdown. The softness in her heart had died completely in the icy rain of her previous life. Her gaze swept past the luxurious, frigid bedroom and landed on the windowsill. There sat a pot of Michelia alba—White Magnolia. Her mother’s favorite flower. In her past life, her stepmother had thrown it into the trash, declaring it an ill omen, along with every other memento of her mother. But now, it was here. The leaves were verdant, the buds tight and promising. It was the only thing in this world she didn't want to sully. Evelyn walked over, her fingertips brushing against the cool petals. The gesture was gentle, a stark contrast to the timid, pleasing Evelyn of the past. At this moment, the glint of a top-tier predator finally broke through the ice in her eyes. Revenge? Of course. But it was no longer driven by hatred; it was a matter of accounting. Just as she had learned in those moldy law books and financial reports—every debt must be settled in full. Click. The bedroom door eased open. Adrian Blackwood entered. He was tall, clad in a perfectly tailored black suit, his tie knotted with meticulous precision. He smelled of rain and the oppressive aura of absolute power. Seeing Evelyn sitting by the window, he frowned slightly. In his mind, Evelyn should have been docile, dependent, rushing to greet him upon his late return. Not sitting with her back to him, her spine ramrod straight, like a solitary peak detached from the world. "Still awake?" Adrian’s voice was low, laced with his usual indifference. He approached, his gaze sweeping over her exposed neck as if inspecting a piece of his property. Evelyn didn't turn. Her fingers remained on the magnolia leaves. "Couldn't sleep," she replied, her voice clear and cold, devoid of any tremor. "I was dreaming." "What about?" Adrian didn't care. He loosened his cufflinks, offering a perfunctory condescension. "Whatever it was, it's over now. You're Mrs. Blackwood. No one can hurt you." That phrase again. In her past life, these words had lulled her into a false sense of security, blinding her to the nature of this marriage until the very end. Evelyn finally turned her head, looking up at him. Those emerald eyes, once filled with adoration and timidity, were now fathomless, like a frozen lake. Meeting her gaze, Adrian felt a jarring sense of dissonance. The woman before him suddenly felt alien. But he suppressed the feeling. She was merely a caged prey; even if she bared her fangs occasionally, she would never escape his palm. "Yes," Evelyn looked away, a faint, icy arc lifting the corner of her mouth. "After all, some prey should never have been caged to begin with." Adrian missed the latter half of her sentence, dismissing it as sleep-talk. He turned toward the bathroom. "Get some rest. Don't be late for the gala tomorrow." The door shut. Evelyn’s gaze returned to the White Magnolia. She tapped the bud gently, whispering to the empty room, her voice so soft only she could hear it: "This time, I will take back everything you stole, with interest. I'll do it myself."