From Neglected Girl To Unstoppable Heiress

Carolina POV

Hulda' s face, usually composed and imperious, crumpled into a mask of disbelief. Her eyes widened, her mouth agape, as if she couldn' t quite process the sounds reaching her ears. "Passed away?" she repeated, the words thin and reedy. "That' s… that' s impossible."

She shook her head, a frantic denial flickering in her gaze. "No. No, you' re mistaken. Carolina was fine. A few scratches, perhaps a bruise or two, but nothing serious. You must be confusing her with another patient."

She clutched the phone tighter, her knuckles white. "I' m a doctor myself. I saw her. She was conscious, talking. She' s just being dramatic, trying to get attention. Don' t you dare try to lie to me, Nurse. I' ll have your license!" Her voice rose, shrill with a frantic edge I had rarely heard.

A weary sigh came from the other end of the line. The nurse, Kandy, I recognized her voice now, sounded resigned. "Mrs. Fitzgerald, with all due respect, I was there. Her injuries were severe, internal. It' s a miracle she even made it to the ER."

"Internal what?!" Hulda shrieked. "She had a few superficial cuts! My Estrella was the one who was truly injured!" She paused, catching herself. "You… you better be mistaken. You' re telling me my daughter… my daughter is dead?" The final word was a hollow whisper, fragile and disbelieving.

Kandy' s voice was firm but gentle. "I understand this is shocking, Mrs. Fitzgerald. If you wish to confirm, you can come to the hospital. Her body is currently in the morgue."

Hulda gasped, dropping the phone onto the plush carpet. It bounced once, the dial tone a faint, mournful hum. She began to pace, her movements jerky and agitated. Her denial warred with a dawning, terrible realization. Her brow furrowed, her lips moving in a silent, desperate argument with herself.

My spirit watched her, a strange, profound calm settling over me. Her anger, her disbelief, her frantic pacing – none of it touched me. It was like watching a play unfold, a drama I was no longer a part of. For the first time, I felt truly free of her influence, of her constant need to diminish and dismiss me. The yearning for her approval, a lifelong tether, had finally snapped.

The pain, the grief, the bitterness of my earthly existence, they receded like a distant tide. A vast, echoing emptiness opened up around me, pulling me in. This was it, then. The true end. And in a strange way, it felt like a release.

But then, a powerful, violent force seized me. It wasn't gentle, like a whisper of peace. It was a wrenching, brutal grip, pulling me through swirling darkness, through sensations that felt like being squeezed through a needle' s eye, like tearing through the fabric of reality itself.

Light exploded, harsh and blinding. Sounds rushed in – muffled voices, the distant clang of metal, the rhythmic beep of a machine. My spirit, disoriented and reeling, was forcefully compressed, slammed back into a body. A different body.

Memories, fragmented and overwhelming, flooded my mind. Not my own. A woman named Claire Tillman. Heiress. Fashion empire. Cheating fiancé. Betrayal. Despair. Suicide attempt. The weight of an unbearable existence.

The sheer desperation of this new life, the crushing loneliness, the betrayal – it was all too familiar. But there was also a fierce spark, a flicker of defiance I hadn't possessed in my original life. I had been given a second chance. A chance to not just survive, but to fight.

Meanwhile, Hulda spent a restless night. The nurse' s words, though denied, had planted a seed of doubt, a chilling possibility that gnawed at her carefully constructed reality. She tossed and turned, arguing with phantom voices, convincing herself it was a mistake, a cruel joke. But the fear, cold and insidious, had taken root.

By dawn, unable to quell the terrible uncertainty, Hulda rose. She had to see for herself. She had to prove them wrong.