Killed By My Husband But Reborn A Supermodel

I woke to the sound of footsteps.The hospital room was dim, lit only by the glow of monitors and the parking lot lights filtering through half-closed blinds. The clock on the wall read 11:47 PM. Ethan slept in the bassinet beside my bed, his tiny chest rising and falling with perfect rhythm.I'd been dreaming about Lucas. In the dream, he'd come back to the room and held our son. He'd smiled, really smiled, and told me he was sorry. That he loved us both. That everything would be different now.Then I'd woken up, and the other side of my bed was still empty.The footsteps grew closer. My eyes adjusted to the darkness. A figure moved in the doorway, tall, slender, wearing white."Nurse?" My voice came out hoarse. "Is something wrong?"The woman stepped into the room, and my breath caught.She was beautiful. Not pretty. Beautiful in the way that hurt to look at. Long dark hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail. Sharp cheekbones. Full lips painted a deep red that shouldn't have worked wit

Beeping.That was the first thing I heard. A steady, rhythmic beeping that pulled me out of darkness.I tried to open my eyes. My eyelids felt like they weighed a thousand pounds. Everything hurt, a distant, fuzzy hurt, like my body was wrapped in cotton but someone was pressing bruises underneath.The beeping continued. A heart monitor, my brain supplied through the fog. I was hearing a heart monitor.Which meant I was alive.But Alice had poisoned me. Lucas had sat in that chair and told me I would die. I remembered the cold, remembered my heart failing, remembered the darkness swallowing me whole.So why was there a heart monitor?I forced my eyes open.White ceiling. Fluorescent lights. The astringent smell of hospital disinfectant. I was in a hospital room, but not the same one. This room was smaller, more clinical. No windows. Just machines and monitors and...Someone gasped.I turned my head, the movement agonizingly slow. A nurse stood in the doorway, young, with wide eyes and

The doorbell rang at eight in the morning. I jolted awake in Raven's massive bed, my heart pounding. For a moment, I forgot where I was. Then I saw the silk sheets, the expensive furniture, the unfamiliar ceiling, and remembered.I was Raven Craslow now. This was my life.The doorbell rang again, more insistent this time.I stumbled out of bed, still wearing the clothes I had fallen asleep in. I had been too exhausted to change last night after hours of practicing Raven's walk and mannerisms. My reflection in the hallway mirror showed tangled hair and tired eyes. I looked nothing like a supermodel.I opened the door without thinking.A woman stood in the hallway, mid-forties, wearing a sharp black suit and carrying a leather briefcase. Her dark hair was pulled back in a severe bun. Her eyes were intelligent and assessing. She looked at me like she was calculating numbers in her head."Raven," she said. Her voice was clipped and efficient. "We need to talk.""Diana?" I guessed, remembe

I could not wait.Diana had told me to rest for a week. To recover. To prepare. But lying in Raven's apartment obsessing over photos of Lucas was driving me insane. I needed to see Ethan. I needed to know my son was okay.I needed to do something.I grabbed Raven's designer purse and her phone. I pulled on a pair of jeans and a simple sweater, trying to look casual. Then I called a taxi.The driver picked me up outside the building. "Where to?" he asked.I gave him the address. My old address. The penthouse I had shared with Lucas for three years.The penthouse where I had been so lonely and so desperate for love that I never saw the monster sleeping beside me.The drive took twenty minutes. I watched the familiar streets pass by the window. I had traveled this route a thousand times as Rachel. Coming home from work. Coming home from the grocery store. Coming home to an empty apartment because Lucas was always somewhere else.Now I was traveling the same route in a different body. A d

I spent the next two days digging deeper into the Vaughn family connection.The more I learned, the more convinced I became that this was the key to everything. The Vaughns had the power and connections I needed. But approaching them would be dangerous. I needed to understand exactly what I was walking into.I started with William Craslow's business records. They were public information, filed with the state for years before his death. I found partnership agreements between Craslow Holdings and Vaughn Enterprises dating back twenty-five years.William Craslow and Marcus Vaughn had been partners in multiple ventures. Real estate developments. Import-export businesses. Investment funds. On paper, everything looked legitimate. But I could read between the lines.The Vaughn family provided services that legitimate businesses needed but could not ask for openly. Security. Influence. Access. The kind of services that came with unspoken agreements and unwritten rules.William Craslow had bee