Reborn Embrace: Taming the Possessive Tycoon

The darkness was absolute. Carolyn fumbled for her phone, the screen's pale glow a small comfort in the oppressive blackness. Her face, reflected in the screen, was a ghostly white.

She tried calling Chandler, but the call wouldn't connect. The line crackled with static before failing entirely. The storm must have knocked out the cell towers. She waited, her breath shallow, trying again and again. On the fourth attempt, the call finally went through, the signal weak and unstable.

She remembered an emergency override panel on the terrace. Using her phone as a flashlight, she navigated through the cavernous living room to the sliding glass doors.

The moment she pushed the door open, a blast of wind and rain hit her with the force of a physical blow. Her thin silk robe was soaked in seconds.

She stepped out onto the terrace, the wind howling around her. There was no panel. Only the churning gray sky and the blurred lights of the cars far below.

She turned to go back inside, but a sudden, violent gust of wind caught the heavy glass door, slamming it shut with a deafening bang. The force of the gale swept across the terrace, shoving a heavy iron chair across the wet tiles until it slammed into the door's track from the outside, wedging it tight against the frame. She pushed against the glass, her palms slipping on the wet surface, but the barricade outside held firm. She was locked out.

She pushed again, throwing her shoulder against the glass, but it didn't budge. She was trapped on the 90th floor in the middle of a thunderstorm.

Her phone buzzed in her hand. It was him. Chandler. The call had finally come through, the signal flickering in and out.

She answered, her fingers numb with cold. "Chandler?"

His voice was tense, strained by static. "Carolyn? The power's out across the whole city. Are you okay?"

She opened her mouth to scream for help, to tell him she was locked outside, but another voice cut through the line. A weak, breathless voice. Eugenia's.

"Chandler... I can't... I can't breathe..."

Carolyn froze, the words lodged in her throat. She heard the faint, wheezing sound of Eugenia's expertly faked asthma attack. It was a sound that had haunted her past life. She steeled herself, forcing down the old fear. She would not let that woman's manipulation kill her twice. "Chandler, listen to me, I'm—"

The line dissolved into a burst of static. Eugenia's theatrical gasps and Chandler's soothing murmurs were swallowed by the interference. The signal was gone. She stared at the phone, the call disconnected.

Chandler's attention had shifted instantly to Eugenia's manufactured crisis. He hadn't heard a single word of her plea.

Carolyn stood in the driving rain, water streaming down her face, mixing with tears she didn't even realize she was crying. The cold was seeping into her bones, but it was nothing compared to the ice forming around her heart. She had tried. He would never know.

She clutched the phone, its light the only thing visible in the swirling rain. The battery indicator flashed red. Ten percent. Then darkness as the screen died.

The cold was becoming unbearable. She wrapped her arms around herself, her teeth chattering uncontrollably, and huddled in a corner of the terrace.

A tiny, pathetic whimper cut through the roar of the wind.

She peered into the darkness. Tucked behind a large planter was a small, shivering ball of wet fur. A puppy, no bigger than her hand, soaked to the bone and terrified. A ragged scrap of blue ribbon was tied around its neck, the ends frayed. Not a stray from the streets below, but something abandoned here deliberately. A gift rejected, perhaps, or a petty cruelty left to die in the storm. How it came to be on a ninety-first-floor terrace was a question for another time. Right now, it was simply a life that needed saving.

Her heart clenched. In that small, abandoned creature, she saw herself.

She crawled across the wet tiles, the rainwater cold against her knees. She gently scooped the puppy into her arms. Its little body was hot with fever, trembling violently. She held it close, and after a moment, it quieted, licking her hand with a tiny, rough tongue.

That small bit of warmth, that tiny flicker of life against her skin, was the only comfort in the storm. Carolyn buried her face in the dog's wet fur, and finally, she let herself sob. She wasn't crying for herself in this moment, but for the girl in her past life who had died waiting for a rescue that never came.

Time blurred. Her body was losing heat fast. Her thoughts grew sluggish, her limbs heavy. But she never loosened her grip on the small, warm body in her arms.

Just as she felt her consciousness begin to slip away, the lights on the terrace flickered on. The power was back.

Through the now-clear glass door, a tall, dark figure stood, his silhouette stark against the brightly lit apartment. He was peering out, his face pressed against the glass.

Chandler.

Carolyn struggled to keep her eyes open. She saw him wrench the door open, his face a mask of pure, unadulterated fury. It was a look she had never seen on him before. A look of panic.