Reborn to Protect My Twins

Reborn to Protect My Twins

Gavin

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The first cries of my son, then my daughter, filled the delivery room. Twins. Mark would have been so proud. A nurse laid them on my chest, tiny and perfect. Then the world tilted. A memory, sharp and brutal, slammed into me. Another life. This exact moment. Giving birth. Aethel Corp. The Thorne family. Damian Thorne. His cold eyes. Cassandra Vance, his mistress, her fake tears. My baby chosen. Then fire, screaming. My child, gone. And Damian' s hands on me, ending it all. "No," I whispered, clutching my newborns. It wasn't a dream. It was real. It happened. And it was happening again. My heart hammered as Damian Thorne walked in, Cassandra Vance on his arm. They were here. Just like before. I fell to my knees, renouncing any claim, begging him to let us leave, to sever all ties to the Thorne family. He forced me to the Serenity Pines retreat, a gilded cage. Cassandra' s 'therapy dog' lunged straight for my twins, its teeth snapping, and Damian blamed me. Later, Cassandra framed me, claiming I cursed her child, convincing Damian I was a source of dark energy. "Take her children!" he ordered, intent on a "cleansing ritual" for my newborns. I fought and clawed, begging him to take me instead, to leave my babies alone. He wouldn't listen. They dragged me out, tying me to a lone tree in a brewing storm. He left me exposed, alone, to die, just like before. I stared at the hidden burner phone, a fragile lifeline. Genevieve Thorne. The Empress Dowager. My only hope. Could she act fast enough?

Introduction

The first cries of my son, then my daughter, filled the delivery room.

Twins. Mark would have been so proud.

A nurse laid them on my chest, tiny and perfect.

Then the world tilted.

A memory, sharp and brutal, slammed into me.

Another life. This exact moment. Giving birth.

Aethel Corp. The Thorne family. Damian Thorne. His cold eyes. Cassandra Vance, his mistress, her fake tears.

My baby chosen. Then fire, screaming. My child, gone. And Damian' s hands on me, ending it all.

"No," I whispered, clutching my newborns.

It wasn't a dream. It was real. It happened.

And it was happening again.

My heart hammered as Damian Thorne walked in, Cassandra Vance on his arm.

They were here. Just like before.

I fell to my knees, renouncing any claim, begging him to let us leave, to sever all ties to the Thorne family.

He forced me to the Serenity Pines retreat, a gilded cage.

Cassandra' s 'therapy dog' lunged straight for my twins, its teeth snapping, and Damian blamed me.

Later, Cassandra framed me, claiming I cursed her child, convincing Damian I was a source of dark energy.

"Take her children!" he ordered, intent on a "cleansing ritual" for my newborns.

I fought and clawed, begging him to take me instead, to leave my babies alone.

He wouldn't listen.

They dragged me out, tying me to a lone tree in a brewing storm.

He left me exposed, alone, to die, just like before.

I stared at the hidden burner phone, a fragile lifeline.

Genevieve Thorne. The Empress Dowager. My only hope.

Could she act fast enough?

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My world revolved around Jax Harding, my older brother's captivating rockstar friend. From sixteen, I adored him; at eighteen, I clung to his casual promise: "When you're 22, maybe I'll settle down." That offhand comment became my life's beacon, guiding every choice, meticulously planning my twenty-second birthday as our destiny. But on that pivotal day in a Lower East Side bar, clutching my gift, my dream exploded. I overheard Jax' s cold voice: "Can't believe Savvy's showing up. She' s still hung up on that stupid thing I said." Then the crushing plot: "We' re gonna tell Savvy I' m engaged to Chloe, maybe even hint she' s pregnant. That should scare her off." My gift, my future, slipped from my numb fingers. I fled into the cold New York rain, devastated by betrayal. Later, Jax introduced Chloe as his "fiancée" while his bandmates mocked my "adorable crush"-he did nothing. As an art installation fell, he saved Chloe, abandoning me to severe injury. In the hospital, he came for "damage control," then shockingly shoved me into a fountain, leaving me to bleed, calling me a "jealous psycho." How could the man I loved, who once saved me, become this cruel and publicly humiliate me? Why was my devotion seen as an annoyance to be brutally extinguished with lies and assault? Was I just a problem, my loyalty met with hatred? I would not be his victim. Injured and betrayed, I made an unshakeable vow: I was done. I blocked his number and everyone connected to him, severing ties. This was not an escape; this was my rebirth. Florence awaited, a new life on my terms, unburdened by broken promises.

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