Reborn in Fury

Are you okay?" Damon asked, his voice soft and yet probing.

I did a forced nod, still reeling in my head. "Just a bad dream." I whispered hoarsely.

I looked at him, secretly hoping that I was mistaken, that the man who swept me off my feet was not planning to destroy me.

He looked back at me, his eyes attempting to bore holes into my soul, studying me as though he could tell I knew something.

"I’m sorry, my love." he said, brushing a stray lock of hair from my face. "After everything with Jonathan, you deserve to rest. You've been under so much stress."

His touch was soft, sending shivers down my spine. I fought hard to keep my expression neutral.

"I'll be fine," I said quickly, pulling the covers up to my chest.

Damon cocked his head. His smile never wavered. "You've always been strong, Elara. But just remember—you don't have to go through this alone. I am here for you."

The words, as spoken with so much sincerity, burnt in my ears.

You're here to destroy me, I thought. But I couldn't let him see my rage—not yet.

"I know," I replied, forcing a weak smile. "Thank you."

Satisfied, Damon leaned down and kissed my forehead. "Get some rest. I'll check on you later."

As soon as he was gone, I shot up, shallow breathing. My hands shook while pressing against my face. He's watching me already.

*****

After Damon was gone, I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the morning sunlight streaming through the window. My mind was racing, the memories of my first life—my real life—flashing before me like a reel of horror.

Damon and Clarissa. My husband and my stepmother. Partners in crime, murderers of my brother, and conspirators in a scheme to destroy my family. They'd killed Jonathan to clear the path to my inheritance. Then, when I got too close to the truth, they'd killed me too.

And now Damon was here, pretending to care, as if I didn't know what he truly was.

I looked at the clock. 8:15 a.m. Jonathan’s funeral was in less than 24 hours, and I needed to be in character to prevent suspicions.

****

Before I stepped into the dining room, I rehearsed every word, every glance. Damon was already seated at the table, sipping his coffee, his phone in his hand, and my father, Gerald Hayes, sat at the head of the table, his reading glasses perched on the bridge of his nose as he scrolled through his tablet. He looked up and gave me a small smile.

"Good morning, sweetheart," he said.

"Morning, Dad." I replied, sliding into my seat.

"I couldn't," I said, forcing a faint smile. "Too much on my mind."

Moments later, Clarissa entered, her emerald-green dress clinging perfectly to her frame, her diamond necklace glittering in the morning light. She carried an air of effortless elegance, but I now knew the truth—she was a viper wrapped in silk.

Elara, dear," she cooed, her voice as honeyed as dripping acid. "You look so pale. Didn't you sleep well?"

I shook my head and reached for the pot. "Just a rough night, is all. Hard to get over. everything."

"Of course, poor thing," she murmured, her tone rife with performative empathy. "We are suffering each in our own fashion. Jonathan's passing was so… devastating."

You mean convenient, I thought, keeping firm onto the handle of the pot.

Damon leaned over and put his hand on my knee—a familiar touch, yet it made my skin crawl. "If you need anything, Elara, just say the word," he whispered softly.

I nodded, looking at the cup in my hand. "Thank you."

****

Breakfast passed in a blur of false smiles and mundane conversation. My father discussed estate matters with Clarissa while Damon occasionally chimed in, his easy demeanour masking the monster beneath. I answered when necessary, but my mind was elsewhere.

Afterwards, I excused myself, saying I needed some time alone. Damon offered to join me, but I quickly declined. "I just need to clear my head." I said, avoiding his gaze.

He hesitated, then nodded. "All right. Just let me know if you need me."

I waited until I was out of sight before making my way to Jonathan's study.

*****

The study was just as I had remembered it—warm, masculine, and steeped in my brother's essence. A faint smell of leather and old books wafted through the air, and in the centre of the room was a mahogany desk with stacks of papers on top.

I hurriedly opened the drawers, searching for the folder that I knew was in one of them. Within minutes, I found it—a thick folder labelled "Estate Concerns.”

Inside were notes, emails, and financial statements. My heart was racing as I scanned the pages, the weight of Jonathan's suspicions coming back to me.

Then I found it. The email from Charles Hawthorne, our family attorney.

To: Jonathan Hayes

From: C.H.

Subject: Urgent—Inheritance Issue

"Jonathan,

I've uncovered some alarming information regarding the estate. I suspect Clarissa is involved in manipulating your father's assets. We need to meet immediately. This can't wait."

My hands shook as I held the paper. Jonathan had known, and they knew that he knew. It was why he lost his life.

"Elara?"

Damon. I was startled, but I quickly comported myself. I turned to see Damon standing in the doorway. I slowly adjusted the folder behind me to prevent him from noticing.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"Uhmm, just going through Jonathan’s items," I said, forcing a casual tone. "I wanted to feel closer to him, especially today.”

His gaze flickered to my hands, and I gripped the folder tighter.

"Did you find anything interesting?" he asked, stepping closer.

"Not really," I lied, taking a step back.

Damon tilted his head, his expression softening into something almost affectionate. "Elara, you've been acting strange. Is everything ok?"

The last time he asked this question, I lost my life.

"Nope, I’m just tired.

He looked at me for a moment, then nodded. "All right. Just don't push yourself too hard, okay?"

I nodded, forcing a faint smile. "I won't."

As he left, I released a shaky breath.

****

Later that evening, I sat in my room, the folder hidden beneath my mattress. My mind was a storm of plans and possibilities. I couldn't trust anyone—not yet.

But one thing was clear: I wouldn't let Damon or Clarissa destroy my family. Not this time.