Semua Bab Reborn! Princess Leila's Second Chance: Bab 11 - Bab 20

LeilaI fast-forwarded through the video on the camera perched by the bedside, my fingers trembling over the buttons. There I was, limp as a rag doll, Darren's arms hauling me onto the mattress. Maids fluttered in like moths, their hands quick and clinical - washing my skin, peeling away smeared makeup, dressing me in a nightgown that wasn't mine. Then, nothing. I slept alone, sprawled like a slaughtered beast, while Darren stayed absent from the frame. Relief washed over me, cool and fleeting, but it curdled fast. He'd recorded it all - every meticulous step - proof that a married man hadn't crossed that line. Clever bastard. But that smirk earlier, that taunting lilt in his voice when he'd teased me awake - it gnawed at me, unforgivable. In another life, I'd have leapt at him, claws out, fury bared. Now, I just simmered, gratitude and rage wrestling in my gut. He'd answered my desperate call last night, played the knight to my damsel. Chivalry, sure, but that crooked grin made me wa

LeilaI met Darren's gaze, unflinching. "I definitely won't do anything immoral that threatens others," I said. "I won't sniff around. I promise. Just lend me 8 billion and everything will be cool. Plus, this money is not borrowed in vain; I will return it to you with interest in three years."Cassius' anxiety flared, and he wedged himself between us, a frantic wall of muscle and nerves. "That's impossible!" he snapped. "8 billion, with 17% interest per year, the total principal and compound interest will be 12.8 billion after 3 years. As a woman without any business sense, can you afford it? Aren't we guaranteed to lose money? And what shall we do if you can't afford to pay us back? Going to your husband Alpha Lucas and cry about it?"I marveled silently at his speed, the numbers spilling from him like blood from a wound.In my last life, I'd heard Cassius was some sort of young genius version of Warren Buffet, the real Wolf of Wall Street and stuff.Guys like that existed to make mo

LeilaThe wheels of the chair scraped against the polished wood as I rolled into Lucas' house, the air heavy with the scent of wax and his musk - sharp, like a blade dipped in pine. I caught sight of him in the living room, sprawled in a chair, his well-tailored suit clinging to him like a second skin. He flipped through documents, his fingers moving with a rhythm that set my teeth on edge. The sight of him there, so early, twisted something in my gut. Lucas never came home before the moon climbed high. This was wrong, a crack in the world I'd learned to navigate.I turned to Tina, the maid pushing my wheelchair, her hands trembling slightly against the handles. "Push me upstairs to rest," I said, my voice a rasp, barely cutting through the silence.But Lucas' head jerked up, the papers rustling as he set them aside. His eyes - cold, pale, like ice over a frozen lake - fixed on me, surprise flickering in them as he took in the wheelchair. He stood, his movements smooth and deliberate,

LeilaI sat in front of the mirror, staring at myself in a daze. The glass threw back a face I barely recognized - pale, hollowed out, like a mask stitched from someone else's skin. My hands rested limp in my lap, heavy, useless. This life felt different, unmoored from the one I'd known before. Where once I'd moved with purpose, now every step dragged, every breath tasted of ash. My body betrayed me, lazy and weak, a shell that mocked the strength I'd lost. I pressed a finger to the mirror, half-expecting it to ripple like water, but it stayed cold and solid, trapping me in its truth.What gnawed at me more, though, was the disgust festering in my chest for Lucas. It had bloomed slow and vicious, fed by memories I couldn't shake—the night of the full moon, his eyes wild with anger and jealousy, his hands tearing at my clothes like I was meat to be carved. That night, he'd stripped me bare in more ways than one, leaving me raw and humiliated under the silver light. And now? Now he slun

LucasLeila's scent hit me like a fist to the gut that night, sharp and wild, clawing at my senses until I couldn't think straight. I'd felt this chaos in my heart before, back at the full moon dance when the bond snapped into place and marked her as my mate. That night, her presence had been a burr under my skin; now, it was a blade twisting deeper. I'd always hated her - spoiled, domineering, a she-wolf who strutted like the world owed her its bones. But lately, it was as if some cursed alchemy had remade her, molding her into the mate I'd never dared imagine. Perfect. Too perfect.The memory of the auction gnawed at me, sour and heavy. I'd been drunk, sloppy with liquor and rage, and I'd torn into her - verbally, physically, I couldn't recall the half of it. As a Lycan, she should've had the strength to snap my neck, but she'd crumpled under me, defenseless. I'd thought her weak then, a brittle thing I could break and discard. When she returned, rolling in that damned wheelchair, I