Reborn: The Unwanted Bride's Daring Comeback

Adelina took a breath and it felt like swallowing fire and ice.

Her lungs burned. She choked, a deep, ragged gasp, like a drowning victim breaking the surface.

Her eyes flew open.

Not the water-stained ceiling of the hospital. It was her own ceiling, the one in her childhood bedroom, with the faint hairline crack that ran from the light fixture to the corner.

She stared, unblinking. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a wild, frantic drumbeat.

Slowly, she turned her head. The wall was covered in posters of bands she hadn't thought about in years. Her desk was cluttered with textbooks. And on the wall, hanging from a thumbtack, was a calendar.

Her eyes focused on the date, the numbers sharp and clear.

March 15, 2019.

The day it all went wrong.

A strangled sob escaped her lips. She scrambled out of bed, her legs unsteady, and stumbled to the full-length mirror on her closet door.

The face staring back wasn't the gaunt, sallow mask of a dying woman. It was her. Twenty-one years old. Her cheeks were full, her eyes were clear, her hair was long and thick. There were no shadows of sickness. No trace of death.

She raised a trembling hand and pressed her fingers against her cheek. The skin was warm. Solid. Real.

It wasn't a dream.

"Adelina! Get down here! Now!"

The voice shot up the stairs like a shard of glass. Marlene. Her adoptive mother. A voice she had spent two decades obeying without question.

A tremor ran through her. The old, conditioned fear. But something else rose to meet it. The memory of a sterile hospital room. The unending beep of a flatlined heart monitor. The cold, hard truth delivered by a stranger.

She curled her hands into fists, her nails digging into her palms. The small, sharp pain was an anchor.

This time would be different.

She took a deep breath, opened her bedroom door, and walked down the stairs.

The scene in the living room was exactly as she remembered it. Her adoptive father, Walter, sat in his worn armchair, a cigarette dangling from his lips, a cloud of smoke obscuring his face. Marlene stood ramrod straight by the fireplace, her arms crossed, her mouth a thin, disapproving line.

And on the sofa, legs crossed, stirring a cup of coffee, was Beryl.

Beryl looked up as Adelina reached the bottom step. A sweet, cloying smile spread across her perfectly made-up face. "Morning, sis."

Adelina's stomach churned. That smile. In her first life, she had thought it was sympathy. Now she knew it was the smile of a predator.

Marlene didn't waste time. "We need to talk. About you, Beryl, and Garret."

Here it was. The conversation that had been the starting gun for her misery.

"Beryl's pregnant," Marlene said, her voice sharp and final. "With Garret's baby. You understand what that means."

Adelina almost laughed. The sound bubbled in her throat, a hysterical, wild thing she had to physically swallow back down. She swallowed it back down, the bitterness coating her tongue. Tears? Screaming? She had done that last time, and it had led to a sterile hospital room and an unending beep. No. Not again. This time, she would not be a victim. She would be a player. She would use their own game against them. Her eyes cleared, the turmoil settling into a cold, hard resolve.

"So," Adelina said, her voice quiet but perfectly steady. "Who do I marry?"

The question hung in the air. Walter and Marlene exchanged a look of surprise, of relief. They had expected tears. A scene. They hadn't expected this... acceptance.

A slow, satisfied smile spread across Marlene's face. "Elena Ward's stepson is looking for someone. A widower. He's in D.C. Needs help with his children."

Adelina's heart gave a single, powerful thud against her ribs. Ward.

Douglass Ward.

She kept her voice even, a miracle of self-control. "I'll do it," she said. "I'll make the switch."

She paused, letting them savor their victory for a single, perfect second.

"But I have conditions."

The silence that fell over the room was absolute. Three pairs of eyes stared at her as if she had just grown a second head.