The Reborn Choice

In my last life, I chose to marry Julian, the man I’d adored for years. He betrayed me and tormented me until my dying day.

Reborn, I found myself back at the moment the Don asked for my choice. Without hesitation, I pointed to Damien, the man rumored to be a sickly cripple.

"The choice has been made."

I walked out of Don Alistair’s study, the heavy oak door clicking shut behind me. The candlelight in the hallway flickered, casting eerie shadows on the walls.

My palms were sweating. In that room, surrounded by antiques, I had just made the most important decision of this life.

The choice of who to marry.

And it wasn't the man they all expected.

"Elara."

I turned to see Julian stepping out of the shadows. He was, as always, perfect—hair like spun gold, eyes as cold as ice, and an air of arrogance in his every move.

"Just came from my father's study?" he asked, walking toward me with his usual condescending tone. "Let me guess, still lost in your little girl fantasies about our future together?"

I just stared at him, silent.

The old me would have blushed, her heart pounding at his every glance. But now, all I felt was a chill rising from the pit of my stomach.

"Listen, Elara," Julian said, stopping in front of me and looking down his nose at me. "Since our engagement ceremony is coming up, there are a few things I need to make clear."

"Like what?"

"After we're married, you'll be a tool for my pleasure, at best. I'll have my freedom," he said, his tone as casual as if he were discussing the weather. "Don't expect me to act like some fool from a romance novel."

The Blackwoods were the top family in the Chicago underworld. My family was a minor one, barely holding on. To outsiders, this marriage was a mismatch. But Don Alistair and my father were close. Alistair had watched me grow up and arranged the pact long ago, waiting only for me to come of age to choose my husband.

Still, to call your future wife a "tool" was the ultimate insult.

The old me would have been heartbroken.

I heard footsteps and whispers behind me. A few younger members of the Blackwood's extended family—Julian’s cronies—were sauntering over. Seeing the scene, they had smirks on their faces, ready for a show.

"Julian's right," one of the red-haired women chuckled. "Some people are just delusional."

I looked at Julian and said slowly, "This has nothing to do with you."

"What?" He frowned, clearly not expecting that response.

"I said, this has nothing to do with you," I repeated, my voice so calm it surprised even me.

His followers exchanged confused glances. This was not the reaction they were hoping for.

"Elara, what the hell are you talking about?" Julian's voice took on an irritated edge. "You're my fiancée—"

"Julian!"

A sweet voice cut him off. Seraphina appeared at the other end of the hall, dressed in a pale lilac silk gown, a perfect smile on her face. She hurried over and took Julian's arm.

Seraphina was the girl my parents had adopted, and Julian always showed her endless patience.

"I've been looking all over for you," she said, looking up at him with adoration in her eyes. "Father said the moonlight is beautiful tonight. Should we go for a walk in the garden?"

Julian looked at Seraphina on his arm, then back at me.

"Of course," he said, smiling gently at her. Then he turned back to me, his gaze turning to ice. "Elara, you'd better drop that strange attitude of yours. Jealousy is an ugly look on you."

I laughed. It must have been a strange sound, because Julian's expression froze for a second.

"I'm not jealous, Julian," I said. "I was just thinking that some people might soon find out that the world doesn't revolve around them forever."

Julian's followers started whispering. Seraphina clutched his arm tighter, her smile looking a little forced.

"Let's go, Seraphina," Julian said, pulling her away. But after a few steps, he turned back.

His blue eyes flashed with a dangerous light.

"Elara, if you keep pulling this crap, I'll have the Elders call this whole thing off."