Rebirth of the Billionaire’s Substitute Bride

Kira’s POV

The first thing I noticed moments before dying was that my sister was smiling as they walked away from my burning car.

The rain was lashing against the windshield violently, sounding like handfuls of gravel being thrown against the glass. The mountain road was entirely dark, illuminated only by the beams of my headlights as my car drove out of control.

My foot slammed against the brake pedal, pressing it flush against the floorboard. Yet nothing happened.

Panic seized my chest immediately. I pumped the brakes, my breath hitching in my throat as the sharp curve of Dead Man’s Drop rushed toward me.

"No, no, no," I chanted, gripping the steering wheel tightly. I yanked the wheel to the left, desperate to force the tires into the muddy embankment, but it was completely locked.

The car didn't even slow down. It hydroplaned across the road, tearing through the metal guardrail as if it were made of paper.

For a single second, I seemed to be floating in the air. Then came the impact.

Metal twisted and shrieked around me like a folded tin can. The glass exploded inward, raining over me like confetti. The car tumbled violently down the rocky slope, throwing me against the constraints of my seatbelt as the roof caved in. Pain erupted across my skull before the chassis finally slammed against the base of an old pine tree, jarring the car to a halt.

Silence descended in the car, broken only by the hiss of the ruptured radiator and the relentless drumming of the rain.

I couldn't move. My legs were pinned beneath the crushed dashboard, and a heavy weight pressed down on my ribs. Warm, thick blood poured down my forehead, stinging my eyes and leaving the metallic tang of copper on my tongue. Every breath felt like inhaling shattered glass. I was trapped, and miserably alone.

As my consciousness began to fray at the edges, a sudden beam of light cut through the storm.

Headlights.

They washed over the mangled wreckage of what was once my car from the road above. A car door slammed, followed by another. Footsteps crunched on the gravel, descending the muddy slope.

Relief flooded my veins knowing someone came, temporarily masking the pain flowing through my body. I tried to call out, to scream for help, but all that escaped my lips was air.

Through my blood-blurred vision, four silhouettes stepped into the light of the high beams. As they stepped closer, the headlights illuminated their faces, and my heart slammed against my ribs filled with joy.

It was my father, my mother, my sister, and… Raheem—the man I had loved for four years, my fiancé before my family forced me to break his heart and take Zara’s place in the arranged marriage.

The four people I trusted most in the world. They had found me.

"Help," I rasped, lifting a trembling, blood-soaked hand toward them. "Please..."

But they didn't rush forward, or dial emergency services. Instead, they stopped a few feet from the wreckage, standing in the rain under a large black umbrella that Raheem held.

They simply looked at me without doing anything.

And then, Zara crouched down beside the shattered window, the hem of her designer coat dragging in the mud. She tilted her head, her face twisting into a mask of amusement.

"You really thought Aziel would ever love you?" she asked, her voice easily cutting through the sound of the storm.

I blinked, the blood in my eyes making it hard to focus. "Zara... what..."

Behind her, my father let out a mocking laugh. He adjusted his silk tie, staring at my crushed body with the same distaste he usually reserved for a stain on his carpet.

"A substitute bride should know her place," he sneered, his voice devoid of a single ounce of paternal warmth. "You were meant to be a placeholder, Kira. Nothing more. Did you really think you could play lady of the house permanently?"

My mind reeled, desperately trying to process their words. Substitute bride? For three years, I had endured the cold humiliation of the Lockwood estate. I had endured Aziel’s attitude, the whispers of high society, and the crushing loneliness—all to protect Zara from a marriage she claimed she was too fragile to survive. I had sacrificed my own happiness, my own future, to keep her safe.

"I don't understand," I choked out, a sob tearing at my ruined throat.

Raheem stepped forward, slipping his free arm around Zara’s waist. He pulled her flush against his chest, pressing a tender kiss to her temple while staring down at me with contempt. "It’s finally over, babe," he murmured to her, before looking back at my horrified face. "Do you have any idea how exhausting it was? Three years of pretending to care about your pathetic dreams, pretending I was heartbroken when you married Aziel. I deserve a damn Oscar. I've been sleeping with your sister since before you even knew my name."

The revelation struck me harder than the crash. The relationship I had mourned, the man I had wept for in secret, the sister I had protected—it was all a lie. My entire life had been a joke played at my expense.

As the reality of their betrayal sank in, my father checked his gold watch. "Let's wrap this up. The brake lines are completely severed; the investigators will rule it a tragic malfunction. Have you secured the documents, Zara?"

"Right here, Daddy," she smiled, reaching into her leather handbag.

But as she pulled her hand out, the bag caught on the edge of my shattered car window. The clasp popped open, and a manila folder slipped out, tumbling into the mud inches from my hand.

The wind caught the cover, flipping it open.

Even in the dim light, even through the haze of my impending death, the bold, black letters stamped across the top of the document were unmistakable.

PETERSON CONGLOMERATE - CONFIDENTIAL MEDICAL RECORD

DNA MATCH CONFIRMATION: 99.9%

SUBJECT: KIRA (TRUE BLOODLINE HEIRESS)

My breath hitched in my lungs.

Peterson. The Peterson family. One of the wealthiest, most untouchable dynasty in the country. A family whose missing granddaughter had been the subject of a decades-long search.

"Oops," Zara giggled, casually reaching down to snatch the file from the mud, completely unbothered by what I had just seen. She tapped the folder against her chin. "I suppose it doesn't matter if you know now. You aren't a Myles, Kira. You never were. Mom and Dad bought you from a desperate nurse twenty-five years ago just to have a punching bag to make me look better."

My mother, who had stood silently in the back, finally spoke. "The Peterson inheritance belongs to us now. Once they find your body, Zara will present the modified DNA records. She will become the Peterson Heiress, and we will finally have the wealth we deserve."

Everything clicked into place. The missing brakes. The secluded road. The lifetime of abuse. I wasn't unwanted because I was worthless. I was unwanted because my very existence was a threat to their greed. The inheritance, the billions, the legacy—it all belonged to me. And they were murdering me to steal it.

Anguish ripped through my soul at the realization of how thoroughly I had been used. I had loved them. I had bled for them. Yet this was how I got repaid.

"You monsters," I screamed, my voice tearing through the storm as hot tears spilled down my cheeks. I thrashed helplessly against the crushed dashboard, begging my broken body to move, begging for the strength to wrap my hands around my sister’s throat. "I gave you everything! I sacrificed my life for you!"

"And now," Raheem said coldly, pulling a silver lighter from his pocket, "you're going to sacrifice your death for us, too."

He flicked the lighter. A small, bright orange flame flickered to life, illuminating the cruel smiles on the faces of the family I had loved.

Only then did I register the overwhelming scent of gasoline pooling beneath the wreckage.

Raheem tossed the lighter into the mud.

The fuel ignited instantly. A wall of fire erupted around the car, the heat searing my skin through the shattered windows. The four of them turned their backs on me, walking calmly up the slope under their umbrella, leaving me to burn alive in the twisted metal tomb.

The flames licked at my clothes, consuming the oxygen in the cabin. Pain began eclipsing the world from my sight, but the hatred in my heart burned infinitely hotter than the fire. As the claws of death finally rushed up to claim me, I stared through the flames at their retreating shadows.

“If Heaven gives me another chance,” I swore to the dark, stormy sky, “I will tear your lives apart piece by piece. I will destroy every single one of you.”

After a while of inhaling the thick, acrid smoke, my heart finally gave up the fight, leaving darkness to consume me whole.