All Chapters of Reborn to Seduce the Devil CEO : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

The sound of my own bones cracking against the marble was the last thing I heard before my world went sideways. I hit the landing at the bottom of the grand staircase, the impact driving every bit of air from my lungs. For a few seconds, there was only silence and a blinding flash of white behind my eyes. Then the pain tore through me, sharp and heavy, tearing straight into my lower belly. "Julian..." I gasped, trying to pull air into my chest. "Julian, please..." My fingers scraped against the cold floor. A warm, thick wetness was already spreading between my thighs, soaking through the thin fabric of my dress. I looked down with trembling hands and saw dark red staining the white stone. "Look at her," Chloe’s voice drifted down from above, light and amused. "She looks like a broken doll down there." Slow footsteps clicked down the stairs. Julian came first, his silk shirt open at the collar, followed closely by my younger sister. Chloe was wearing my husband's jacket over her sh

The memories from last night hit me all at once, rushing through my head like ice water. I remembered the dim lights of the VIP lounge at my bachelorette party. I remembered sitting on the velvet sofa, laughing with my bridesmaids, while Chloe stood at the bar with a cocktail shaker in her hands. "Here, Evie," Chloe’s voice echoed in my memory, sweet and dripping with poison. "You’ve been so stressed about the wedding. Drink this whole glass. It’s a special blend of sweet wine, just for the bride. A toast to your very last night of freedom." I had smiled at her. I had trusted my little sister. I drank the entire glass without suspecting a thing. Within ten minutes, my skin had turned scorching hot, my vision had blurred, and my limbs had felt heavy as lead. Chloe had grabbed my arm, whispering that she had booked a quiet room for me upstairs to rest. She had dragged me into the elevator, pressing the button for the fourth floor, murmuring into her phone about an older investor who

Instead of stepping forward onto the white runner that led down the long aisle, I turned sharply to the left. Right beside the entrance doors stood the cathedral's media booth. Two young sound technicians were sitting behind a wide console covered in audio sliders, video monitors, and live-streaming equipment. Both of them were staring at me with their jaws practically touching the desk. "Miss Sterling?" the older technician stammered, scrambling to stand up. "Are you... are you not going to walk down the aisle?" "Give me the wireless microphone," I said. "What?" he blinked in confusion. "Miss Sterling, that microphone is routed directly to the altar speakers and the entire cathedral sound system. It's meant for the priest during the homily—" "I didn't ask what it was meant for," I said in a calm, flat voice. "Hand it to me. And plug this phone into the primary HDMI display feed right now." I placed my phone onto his desk with the screen already unlocked. The technician looked do

The silence in the cathedral was suffocating. Every camera lens was pointed directly at Julian’s bright red cheek, at Chloe sobbing on the cold floor, and at me standing tall by the media booth. I lifted the microphone back to my lips. My voice remained completely steady, echoing through every corner of the church. "Ladies and gentlemen," I began, my tone calm and clear. "Members of the board, honored guests, and reporters. I apologize for the delay this morning, but I believe you have all seen enough to understand why this ceremony cannot proceed." "Evelyn, wait!" Julian pleaded, stepping toward me with both hands raised, looking frantic as the cameras flashed in his face. "Do not do this! Think about what you're saying! We can step into a private room and discuss this like rational adults. You don't have to throw our entire future away over an emotional misunderstanding!" "A misunderstanding?" I looked at him, letting a small, cold smile touch my face. "Julian, you were unzipping

I was having breakfast with my husband when I saw my ex-fiancé crying on live TV. It was surreal. Julian and I were in the sunroom. He was in his wheelchair again, reading the Financial Times, a cup of black coffee untouched in front of him. I was picking at toast, still getting used to the fact that I lived in a manor where the chef made toast into little heart shapes. Mark came in without knocking, his face tight, holding a tablet. "Sir. Madam. You need to see this." He turned the tablet toward us. A live news channel. The headline screamed: ABANDONED GROOM BREAKS SILENCE: ARTHUR VANCE TO HOLD EMERGENCY PRESS CONFERENCE. There was Arthur. In front of the Vance Holdings building. Wearing a cheap, wrinkled white shirt, no tie, eyes red, stubble on his usually perfectly clean-shaven face. He looked like a man who hadn't slept in days. A victim. "—I never wanted it to come to this," he was saying into a dozen microphones, his voice choked with fake tears. "Vivian and I we