Marry the Heir, Meet Your End

My father, Adrian Powell, stared at the marriage proposal on the table, grinning from ear to ear.

The Wrights were the wealthiest family in the city. Whoever married into their family wouldn't just secure the Powell family's social standing—they would receive 30 percent of our company's shares as a wedding gift.

In my past two lives, Cynthia Powell and I had fought to the death for a prize like that.

But now? That invitation looked like a death warrant.

"Robin says he doesn't care about family background—only fate. So, who wants to marry him? Let's be clear. Whoever marries him becomes the heiress of the Powell family."

In the past, Cynthia would have jumped at the chance. Now, she just stared at the floor, refusing to look up.

I stood rooted in place too. My mind was full of the terrible pain from the poison in my first life and the gunshot in my second.

Dad was displeased at our lack of response. He slammed his teacup onto the table and asked, "What's wrong?

"Both of you usually fight over a designer bag, but now that I'm offering you a chance to get rich, you've both gone quiet? Cynthia, you're the youngest. You go first."

Cynthia flinched when she heard her name. "I'll never marry him! I wasn't supposed to be part of the family.

"I don't deserve it. I don't want a single share of those stocks. I'll pack my bags and head back to the countryside to be a farmer right now!"

Dad and I were stunned.

Cynthia was a greedy and power-hungry woman. In my previous two lives, she would have counted every single hair on my head if it meant getting an edge in the inheritance battle.

Yet, she wanted to return to the countryside to be a farmer when a massive fortune and a high-society marriage were at stake?

Unless she, too, had been reborn. The realization hit me instantly.

Dad snapped out of his daze. He pointed at Cynthia and bellowed, "You ungrateful brat! What nonsense are you saying?"

Seeing that he was about to lose it, I suddenly clutched my stomach and collapsed against Cynthia.

"Oh no, Dad. My stomach hurts—I just had my period. Cynthia, help me get to my room and find the painkillers. Hurry!"

Dad was surprised to see us sharing a close relationship. I ignored him and squeezed Cynthia's arm forcefully. Taking the hint, she hauled me up the stairs and away from the living room.

"Dad, Kathy is about to faint. We'll talk about the marriage proposal later!"

We scrambled into the room and locked the door. Cynthia and I collapsed against the door and sat on the floor. Cold sweat soaked through our clothes as we gasped for air.

After a long while, Cynthia finally turned her head and stared at me. I stared back.

She was the first to break the silence.

"Did it hurt when the poison kicked in?" she probed.

My heart skipped a beat as I turned to face her. "After Robin poisoned me, he told everyone I died of a sudden illness. How did you know it was poison? Did you talk him into killing me?"

"Hell, no. I might be greedy, but I'm not that despicable." Cynthia glared at me and continued, "Right after you died, the police raided my house. They found the poison hidden in my bedroom and dragged me away. I swear I didn't do it!"

I remained silent. Before I died, I heard Robin say he was doing all of this for the woman he loved.

Back then, Cynthia was the only one with a reason to want me gone, so I assumed they were in cahoots. Looking back, the whole situation felt fishy.

"On your wedding day, your car went up in flames. The police told me my fingerprints were all over the fuel tank. I was sentenced to death for it.

"You were so wary of me back then. I didn't even know what your wedding car looked like. How would I even tamper with the tank?"

Cynthia narrowed her eyes. She picked up a cigarette, her hands trembling so badly that it took her a few tries to get it lit.

"I remember now. As I was dying in the car, I saw Robin standing just a few yards away, smiling at me. Kathy, why was he so hell-bent on making sure neither of us makes it out alive?"