Rebirth in the Billionaire's Bed

The chill was the first thing I felt.

The sheets against my skin were cool, too clean, too crisp. I gasped and sat up, clutching at my chest. My heart raced so hard it hurt. My eyes searched the room.

This was not the hospital bed.

This was not where I died.

I glanced down at myself. My body—alive. No pain. No blood. No scars. I clenched my hands around my face. Hot, heavy tears pricked the corners of my eyes.

I exhaled, "No… this can't be real."

I looked around again. A dim light filtered through the closed curtains. Something bitter, perhaps liquor, and a hint of cologne filled the air. As though someone had been snoozing all night, the sheets were tangled. Then I became aware of it—the steady breathing next to me. I stiffened. I turned my head slowly. Nightangle Thane. With each deliberate breath, his broad shoulders rose and fell as he lay on his side.

His long lashes brushed against his skin, and his face was too serene. He was unaware. He was indifferent. Even now, he slept like the world couldn't touch him.

I covered my mouth with my palm to stop myself from crying. I had pleaded with him in a previous life for even a look or a word. Now, he was seated beside me, and my only emotion was fear. I pulled the blanket close to my chest and wrapped it around myself.

Someone knocked on the door. Blunt. Too direct.

"Nadira." The voice of my father. My chest constricted. I recalled this. I recalled everything. that evening. He burst through the door that night. He pulled the reporters in that night. That night, my life was imprisoned for all time. I crashed to the floor after falling off the bed. I didn't feel the force of my knees hitting the carpet.

I grabbed up my robe, which was draped over the chair, and tied it around me, my hands shaking.

"Father, wait—don't!" My voice cracked.

The door opened anyway. My father came in, his expensive suit impeccable, his tie pulled tight. He looked at me, then at the bed. His eyes gleamed, bright and cold.

"So, it's true." His voice was self-satisfied, almost pleased.

"Please…" I whispered. "Not this. Not again."

He raised his chin. "Do you have any idea how much it cost to set this up? Reporters are already waiting. Once they get a glimpse of you here, once they see him here, he won't be able to deny it. It will be finished."

My hands shook so hard I dug my nails into my palms. My breath came shallow.

"No, Father. I don't want this."

He laughed, short and bitter. "Do not be foolish, Nadira. This is your only chance. Thane Nightingale is the future. Do you want to remain nothing? Do you want to be discarded?"

I swallowed. My heart screamed yes. I had to be free. But in my past life, I had not been courageous enough to say it. I had let him push me, pull me, and tie me up. And in the end, I had lost everything.

Not this time.

"I'll do it myself," I said, my voice trembling but firm.

He frowned, his eyes narrowing. "What did you say?"

"I said I'll handle it. I don't need reporters. I don't need you humiliating me like that."

There was a pause. My father stared at me as if I had grown another head. Then he scorned.

"Do you think you can protect yourself? You are nothing without me. Don't forget who gave you this chance."

Something within me broke. "You never gave me a chance. You sold me."

His face twisted, a glint of anger, but he smoothed it out. He stepped closer, his voice lowering. "Be careful, Nadira. Don't test my patience."

The bed creaked behind us.

Thane's deep, raspy voice cut through the room, gritty with sleep.

"What's going on?"

My body stiffened. I turned slowly.

He was awake. His dark eyes were partially open, his eyebrows creased. He glanced around, then at my father, then at me. He looked down at the blanket that was still fastened around his waist. He asked, "What happened last night?"

My throat tightened as I opened my mouth. The words barely made it out. "We drank. Then I'm not sure."

He ran a hand through his hair and slowly sat up. He was too laid back. detached. As though he didn't care about any of this. He shot me a glare. "Then you'll marry me." I felt the words like ice. In my previous life, that sentence had made me cry with relief. I had held on to it, pleaded for it, and mistakenly believed it to be love when it was only obligation. Now, however. It now made me sick.

I forced myself to breathe. My father's face lit up, and he moved forward. "You see? He's agreeable. It's decided then—"

"No."

The word came out steady. Clear.

They both paused motionless.

I tightened my hold on the robe as I raised my chin. "I said no."

My dad's expression darkened. "Don't be dumb, Nadira—"

I raised my voice and said, "I don't want this."

The effort of suppressing my tears made my throat hurt.

"I refuse to do it. Not in this manner. The ensuing quiet weighed heavily on my chest. Thane's eyes met mine. His face remained the same for a moment. As though I had spoken in a language he had never heard, he simply stared. Then, slowly, his lips curved into something more slashing than a smile. "You deny me?" He spoke in a low, threatening voice.

I swallowed, but I didn't give up. "Indeed."

The atmosphere changed. My dad took a step back and looked between us, suddenly uncertain. Thane leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. His eyes had darkened, his jaw clenched.

"Fascinating," he murmured.

I wrapped my arms around myself. My heart was racing so hard I thought it might explode. However, beneath the fear was a strange sense of relief. I had said no for the first time.

Thane's eyes were sharp and unfathomable, and his head tilted sideways. "Nadira, exercise caution. You may come to regret saying that. I shuddered at the tone he used. Something I couldn't place burned in his eyes: anger, shock, maybe even interest. I realized then that this was only the beginning.