Reborn: The Medical Heiress's Sweet Revenge

Alexis Santos died in the winter of her forty-fifth year, and woke again in the spring of her twentieth year.

When she died, she was lying on a wooden plank bed in a basement, without even the strength to turn over. When she woke, she was sitting on the bed in the second-floor bedroom of Ashley Manor, morning light stinging her eyes, the smell of dried herbs in the air, her hand pressed against her chest-warm, alive, no blood.

It had taken her twenty-five years to understand one thing: the woman she had called "sister" for twenty-five years, and the man she had loved for twenty-five years, had been waiting for her to die all along.

The last thing she saw before death, she remembered clearly.

"My dear sister, did you really think Bertrand ever loved you?"

Christy Riggs laughed, her voice echoing in the damp basement of the Williams house in Pine Ridge. The iron door had just screeched shut behind her. Her polished high heels clicked against the wet concrete floor, bringing a heavy wave of cheap rose perfume that choked out the smell of mold.

Lying on the wooden plank bed, Alexis struggled to lift her heavy eyelids. Her skeletal fingers clenched the thin, mildewed blanket, and every breath rattled in her throat like a broken bellows.

Christy stopped by the bed, looking down at her. There was no pity in those watery blue eyes, only cold mockery. For twenty-five years, this orphan girl who lived off the Williams family had called her sister while secretly hating her to the bone.

She raised a hand adorned with a ruby ring and covered her nose and mouth with a silk handkerchief in disgust. Under the dim bulb, the brown beauty mark beneath her right eye looked glaring. She tossed a yellowed parchment formula onto Alexis's paper-white face.

The rough edge of the paper sliced across Alexis's cracked cheek. Her pupils shrank. It was the master manual of the Santos family's autonomic nerve needling technique, a medical secret never meant for outsiders.

"This... my grandfather left this to me..." Alexis's lips trembled violently, a metallic taste rising in her throat.

Christy kicked over the rusty iron basin beside the bed, the clatter bouncing off the walls.

"If Bertrand hadn't needed to trick this targeted nerve regulation formula out of you, why would a medical elite like him ever hold his nose and act sweet to you?"

A loud buzzing filled Alexis's head. Memories of slaving away for twenty-five years flashed before her eyes. Her fingernails dug deep into the dry flesh of her palms.

Squatting down, Christy poked her bright red fingernail hard into Alexis's bony collarbone, her voice soft and venomous.

"And that rumor twenty years ago about you being assaulted at the old farm? He leaked that himself."

"No... someone drugged me that night..."

"Bertrand put the drug in your drink with his own hands. He wanted to ruin your reputation so you could only cling to him and be his free servant forever."

Alexis jerked her hand up to claw at the woman's face, but her emaciated arm lost all strength mid-air and slammed onto the hard edge of the bed.

Christy stood up gracefully and smoothed the wrinkles on her skirt before pulling a photocopy of a birth certificate from her handbag and tossing it lightly onto the head of the bed.

"By the way, Leo, the son you worked yourself to the bone to raise, is my flesh and blood with Bertrand. You were just a barren substitute who raised my son for me. You can go die now."

Alexis stared at Christy's name printed under the mother's column. Her eye sockets felt ready to split as tears mixed with blood rolled down her cheeks. She thought of the endless nights she spent sewing and boiling herbs in the back kitchen to pay Leo's tuition, her hands raw and festering.

Steady footsteps echoed outside the basement. Bertrand Williams appeared at the top of the stairs, his metal-rimmed glasses reflecting a cold light, the stub of a cheap cigar between his fingers. He blew a puff of blue smoke toward the bed.

Using every last bit of strength, Alexis raised her head to look at the man she had loved her whole life.

Bertrand didn't spare her a glance. He checked his wristwatch, his tone as flat as if he were discussing broken furniture.

"Still breathing? The doctor will be here soon to sign the death certificate."

Christy leaned into Bertrand's arms, her voice syrupy.

"She's clinging on, but the medicine has kicked in. She won't make it past tonight."

Bertrand wrapped his arm around Christy's waist, his lips curling into a cruel smile.

"Get this room cleaned up. The notary is coming tomorrow to confirm the manor deed transfer."

Dark red blood clots surged into Alexis's throat. She shook violently, coughing as if she wanted to cough up her organs. Twenty-five years of devotion, twenty-five years of self-deception, all turned into a fire choking her chest. She glared at the well-dressed couple, her eyes so red they almost bled.

Chilled by her terrifying stare, Bertrand frowned and took half a step back.

"Stop looking at me with those disgusting eyes. You were just too stupid."

The agony in Alexis's chest exploded. Her heart raced out of control, and her vision went black. Outside the basement, thunder rumbled, and heavy rain pounded against the narrow air vent.

Her fingers went rigid one by one, then dropped heavily onto the sheet. A mouthful of black blood sprayed from her lips. Before her consciousness faded into a blur of darkness, she vaguely felt a drop of piercingly cold water hit her forehead hard...