Reborn To Claim The Ruthless CEO

Gidget Wiggins sucked in a violent breath.

Her lungs burned as if she had been drowning. Her eyes snapped open to a dim, unfamiliar ceiling. Her fingers immediately curled inward, her short nails digging into the freezing, frictionless surface of expensive silk sheets.

Her chest heaved. The phantom pain of her past life-the crushing weight of a failing body and a broken spirit-still echoed in her bones.

She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the lingering nausea of death. She had spent forty years being a victim, suffocating under the weight of a family that devoured her. She didn't have time to wallow in the trauma of the past. The agonizing helplessness was behind her. In this life, she had to seize every advantage, starting tonight.

She pushed herself up. The room was massive, bathed in the low, sterile glow of Manhattan streetlights filtering through floor-to-ceiling windows. The minimalist, hyper-modern furniture was unmistakable.

This was the private penthouse of the CEO of Strong Holdings Group.

Gidget raised her hands. She stared at them in the shadows. The skin was tight, smooth, and completely devoid of the age spots and IV bruises she remembered.

She was eighteen again.

The sound of running water stopped abruptly in the adjoining master bathroom.

Gidget's heart slammed against her ribs. The rhythm was so fast it made her throat tight. Today was her wedding night.

She looked down at the floor. A custom designer wedding dress lay in a discarded heap of white tulle and lace.

A soft click echoed through the silent room. The frosted glass door of the bathroom swung open.

A tall, broad-shouldered silhouette stepped into the dim light of the wall sconces.

The man ran a white towel through his dripping wet hair. Droplets of water slid down the sharp, unforgiving line of his jaw, tracing the thick muscles of his neck before disappearing into the collar of a dark silk robe.

Gidget stopped breathing.

That face did not belong to Donn Sharpe, the man she had married in her past life.

That face belonged to Doctor Strong. The ruthless tech mogul. The man who would die young, leaving his empire in chaos.

Her brain fired rapidly, trying to make sense of the impossible. Why was Doctor Strong here? The marriage arrangements... Cortney Meyers. Her stepsister had always looked at Donn with a hungry, desperate envy. Cortney must have found a way to swap the grooms. A wild, chilling thought flashed through Gidget's mind-could Cortney have also returned from the future? Was that why she had stolen Donn, believing she was securing a longer, happier life away from the doomed tech mogul? It was only a guess, but the pieces fit too perfectly.

Doctor Strong tossed the damp towel over the back of a leather chair. He didn't even look at her. His face was a mask of pure, unadulterated indifference as he walked toward the walk-in closet.

Gidget exhaled a shaky breath. She knew what happened to this family. If she wanted to survive the coming storm, she needed power. She needed an heir.

She threw off the silk duvet.

Her bare feet hit the freezing hardwood floor. The sudden cold sent a shockwave up her spine.

Doctor Strong heard the movement. He stopped mid-stride. He turned his head slightly, his dark eyes locking onto her with a chilling distance.

Gidget closed the gap between them in three quick steps. She planted herself directly in his path to the closet.

His eyebrows pulled together. A flicker of deep annoyance tightened the corners of his mouth.

Gidget tilted her head back. She stared straight into his pitch-black eyes. Her stomach twisted into tight knots, but she didn't look away.

She reached up. Her hands grabbed the smooth silk lapels of his robe. She gripped the fabric so hard her knuckles turned a stark, bone-white.

Doctor Strong's entire body went rigid. The muscles beneath the silk turned to stone. He despised physical contact.

He brought his hands up, his large palms pressing against her shoulders to push her away.

Gidget used his resistance. She pulled herself forward, rising onto her toes.

She crashed her lips against his.

It wasn't romantic. It was clumsy and desperate. Her teeth collided hard with his bottom lip. A sharp, metallic taste of blood instantly bloomed on her tongue.

Doctor Strong shoved her backward.

The force of his push sent her stumbling. Her heel caught on the edge of the rug, but she caught her balance.

He lifted the back of his hand and wiped his mouth. A smear of red stained his skin. His eyes blazed with a cold, furious fire.

He didn't say a single word.

He turned his back on her, snatched a tailored suit jacket off the back of the sofa, and walked out of the bedroom.

The heavy mahogany door slammed shut behind him. The sound echoed like a gunshot in the massive, empty room.