Reborn: Marrying My Ex's Comatose Uncle

Harry stared at the red mark blooming across his knuckles.

For a moment, he looked genuinely stunned, as if he could not believe Ciel had dared to touch him.

Then his jaw tightened. A vein rose in his neck.

"Do not test my limits, Ciel," he warned.

Ciel stood straight. There was no fear in her posture.

"Wake up, Harry," she said coldly. "I have absolutely zero obsession left for you."

Harry froze.

The indifference in her voice sent an unfamiliar chill through him.

"You're lying," he said at once. "You're throwing a tantrum because of last night."

Ciel's lips curved faintly.

"You overestimate your charm. Your selfishness and fake, hypocritical personality make me physically sick."

The words pierced his ego.

His breathing grew rough. He stepped closer again, using his height to cast a shadow over her.

"You are nothing without me," he snarled. "Nothing."

Ciel did not move back.

"Look at you," she said. "Throwing a tantrum like a three-year-old whose toy was taken away."

She paused just long enough for the insult to sink in.

"After June 3rd, I will be your aunt-in-law. I expect you to follow basic family etiquette when addressing me."

The word aunt struck him again.

Pain tightened in Harry's chest, sudden and severe. He did not understand it. He only felt the panic turn into rage.

His fists clenched.

"You are going to marry a vegetable!" he shouted. "A man who can't even speak. You'll spend the rest of your life as a living widow."

Ciel looked at his twisted face.

She felt no anger now. Only exhaustion, and pity for the girl she used to be.

"Taking care of a hero who cannot feel anything," she said calmly, "is ten thousand times better than waking up beside a disgusting hypocrite like you."

Harry snapped.

He raised his hand, intending to slap her.

Ciel did not flinch.

She stared at his raised hand with cold eyes.

"There is a security camera above your left shoulder, Harry," she said quietly.

His arm froze.

The instincts of a politician terrified of scandal finally stopped him.

Slowly, he lowered his hand. His fingers curled so tightly his knuckles cracked.

Ciel wasted no more time.

She stepped around him and continued down the hall.

As she passed, the clean scent of her shampoo drifted toward him.

Harry's chest seized.

Another sharp spasm of pain tore through him.

He turned, staring at her back.

"You will regret this!" he roared. "You will come crying back to me on your knees!"

Ciel did not stop.

She treated his voice like street noise.

At the end of the hall, she pushed open the heavy oak doors and stepped into the bright courtyard.

The black Lincoln Navigator was already waiting.

The driver opened the rear door.

Ciel slid inside.

"Take me back to Manhattan. Now."

Behind her, the oak doors swung shut.

Harry stood in the dim hallway, staring at the closed doors.

A suffocating emptiness crashed over him.

He turned and slammed his fist into the expensive silk wallpaper. The wall shuddered.

His chest heaved as he leaned his forehead against the wall.

He did not understand why it hurt.

He only knew the pain was unbearable.