Reborn as the Villain's Wife

The Conservatory was humid and smelled of wet earth and orchids.

Elise pushed through the glass doors. It was dim inside, lit only by floor lamps.

"I knew you'd come," a voice sneered.

Jill stepped out from behind a palm tree. She wasn't alone. The man from the ballroom, her hired PI, stood behind her, arms crossed.

"What is this, Jill?" Elise asked, stepping onto the mossy path. She held her shoes in her hand like clubs.

"This is an intervention," Jill grinned. "You see, I have it on good authority that you were planning to meet your lover here. I even hired a photographer to capture the touching reunion for Damian."

Elise laughed. It was a cold, sharp sound.

"You're delusional, Jill. Eddie's not here. And even if he were, you're the last person he'd want to see."

Jill's smile dropped. "What are you talking about?"

Elise raised her right hand. She pressed a button on the small voice recorder she had palmed from her clutch earlier.

Click.

Jill's voice rang out in the quiet greenhouse.

"He's a moron, Eddie. Just keep him distracted. Once I get the power of attorney over Elise's trust, we split the cash 70-30. And then you dump her."

The PI's eyes widened. He looked at Jill, his expression shifting from smug to alarmed.

"Where... where did you get that?" Jill stammered.

"Your phone has been compromised for weeks, Jill," Elise said coolly. "Every word you've said near it, I have it. This is just my favorite. You think I got this by guessing your password is 'password123'?"

Jill's face went pale. Panic set in. "Give me that!"

She lunged at her. The PI moved to grab Elise.

Elise raised her high heel, the stiletto point aimed at his eye.

But she didn't need to strike.

The glass door behind them shattered.

A black blur moved through the air.

Damian.

He didn't stop. He didn't speak. He launched a flying kick that connected squarely with the PI's chest.

Crack.

Ribs snapped.

The man flew backward. He crashed into a display of rare orchids, pots shattering around him. He hit the ground and didn't get up. He just wheezed, clutching his chest.

Damian landed on his feet. He was wearing a fresh black shirt, sleeves rolled up. His forearms were corded with muscle.

He walked toward the downed man. He picked up a shard of a clay pot.

"You touched her," Damian growled. "I'm going to cut your hands off."

"Damian! No!"

Elise dropped her shoes. She ran and tackled Damian from behind, wrapping her arms around his waist.

He was solid rock. He didn't budge.

"Let go, Elise. He dies tonight."

"Not here!" she screamed. "Not like this! Don't go to prison for him! He's not worth it!"

Damian hesitated. The shard hovered inches from the man's terrified face.

Suddenly, the main doors burst open.

"Oh my god! What is happening?"

A photographer, hired by Jill, ran in, followed by three guests she had primed. She had clearly planned to catch Elise in a fake tryst.

Instead, she saw her PI broken on the floor, Damian standing over him like an avenging angel, and Elise holding Damian back.

Jill stopped. Her eyes went to the recorder in Elise's hand.

Elise smiled. She held up the recorder.

"Perfect timing," Elise said. "I was just playing Jill's greatest hits."

She pressed play again. The audio echoed.

"...split the cash 70-30..."

The photographer's flash went off. Pop. Pop. Pop. He was capturing Jill's face as it crumbled. She looked at the guests. She looked at the camera. She realized her life was over.

Arthur Nelson walked in behind them. He heard the recording. He saw the scene.

He walked up to Jill.

Slap.

The sound was louder than the breaking glass.

"Get out," Arthur said, his voice shaking. "You and your mother. Get out of my house. Get out of my family."

Jill sobbed, covering her face. She ran out.

Damian dropped the shard. He stood up. He wiped his hands on his pants.

He turned to Elise. He looked at her bare feet standing in the dirt and glass.

Without a word, he bent down and scooped her up into his arms.

"My shoes," Elise said.

"Leave them," Damian said. "I'll buy you a factory."

He carried her out of the greenhouse, past the stunned guests, past her father. He didn't look at anyone.

He just held her tight against his chest.