The Reborn Duchess's Ruthless Revenge

Isolde sat behind the massive mahogany desk in the library of Powers Manor. The room was silent, save for the ticking of a grandfather clock.

She held a newspaper in her hands. The Capital Financial Times.

The headline screamed in bold black ink: VANCE SHIPPING EMPIRE COLLAPSES AMID SAFETY SCANDAL.

Isolde traced the headline with a manicured fingernail. A cold, satisfied smile played on her lips.

In her past life, the Vance family had been untouchable. Their ships had leaked oil into the pristine bays of the southern coast, killing the wildlife and ruining the local economy. They had covered it up, paid off the inspectors, and used their profits to fund the opposition party-the party that eventually executed her family.

Not this time.

This time, Isolde had leaked the safety reports three months early. She had shorted their stock through a shell company.

The door opened. Duke Elliot walked in, carrying two cups of coffee. He placed one on the desk.

"You look like the cat that just ate the canary," he said, leaning against the edge of the desk.

"The canary was poisonous," Isolde said, folding the paper. "I just made sure it choked the right predator."

Elliot took a sip of his coffee, watching her over the rim. "The Vance heir had a hunting accident this morning. Shot in the leg. They say he'll never walk without a cane."

Isolde didn't blink. "Karma is efficient."

"Is that what we're calling it now?" Elliot asked. "Karma?"

"We call it necessary housekeeping," Isolde said. She stood up, smoothing her skirt. "Is the car ready? Julian and Stone are landing in an hour."

"The motorcade is waiting," Elliot said. He set his cup down. "Isolde."

She stopped. "Yes?"

"You're shaking."

Isolde looked at her hands. They were trembling slightly.

It wasn't fear of the Vance family. It was the date.

October 14th.

In her previous life, this was the day her sister, Seraphina, died in childbirth. Stone hadn't been there. He had been delayed at the front. Seraphina had given up. She had bled out calling his name.

"I'm fine," Isolde lied. "Just excited to see them."

"You're a terrible liar," Elliot said. He walked over and took her hands in his. His grip was firm, grounding. "Whatever happens, we handle it. Together."

Isolde nodded. She couldn't tell him. She couldn't say, My sister is scheduled to die today.

They got into the armored limousine. The drive to the airfield was tense. Isolde kept checking her watch. Every minute felt like an hour.

Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through her chest. A phantom pain. Her intuition-the strange, somatic link she had to her timeline-was screaming.

"Turn around," Isolde said.

The driver looked in the rearview mirror, confused. "My Lady?"

"Turn around!" Isolde shouted. Her voice cracked. "Go to the Stone residence! Now!"

"Isolde, the plane..." Elliot started.

"Seraphina," Isolde gasped, clutching her chest. "She's early. Something is wrong. I can feel it."

Elliot didn't argue. He pressed the intercom button. "Change of plans. Stone Residence. Code Red speed."

The heavy car swerved, tires screeching as it pulled a U-turn across the highway.

Isolde pulled out her phone and dialed the Stone house.

Busy signal.

She dialed again. Busy.

"Pick up," she hissed. "Pick up, damn it."

She looked at Elliot, her eyes wide with panic. "If we're late... if Stone isn't there..."

"He's landing now," Elliot said, typing furiously on his own phone. "I'm sending a helicopter to the tarmac to pick him up. He'll meet us there."

Isolde stared out the window as the city blurred past. She prayed to a God she wasn't sure believed in her anymore.

Change the fate, she begged. I gave you Vance. Give me Seraphina.