All Chapters of REBIRTH OF THE SUBSTITUTE BRIDE : Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

CHAPTER 42The dial tone cut out with a dull, hollow click.I pressed the heavy, ice-cold plastic receiver tight against my ear, holding my breath so hard my chest hurt. I braced myself for a mechanical recording, a cold, raspy security operative, or some gruff, paranoid handler barking orders down the line.Instead, a voice filled the earpiece. Soft, calm, and grounded in a quiet elderly warmth."Hello, good evening."I froze. My tongue felt like lead glued to the roof of my mouth.I don't know what I had been expecting—a voice-scrambler, a cold threat, a stern interrogation—but hearing that gentle, unbothered woman's tone shattered whatever thin layer of ice was keeping me together. My breath hitched sharply in my throat."Hello?" the voice came again, patient and unhurried. "How can I help you?""H—Hello," I choked out, my knuckles turning stark white as I gripped the phone cord. I swallowed hard, trying to force down the giant, painful knot rising in my chest. "Dr. Evans... Dr. Ev

CHAPTER 44The car pulled up a long, dark gravel driveway lined with towering, overgrown oak trees.I forced my eyes open, my heart instantly leaping straight into my throat. Old habits die hard. Even after twenty minutes of complete silence, my first instinct was still to scan the area for security guards, black SUVs, or floodlights.Instead, at the end of the driveway sat a small, cozy two-story cottage. It had a warm amber light glowing from a porch lamp, yellow floral curtains in the windows, and a little wooden porch swing swaying gently in the night breeze.It looked like something out of a fairytale book. It looked so normal, so utterly ordinary, that it almost brought me to tears all over again."Here we are," Stella said, putting the car into park and shutting off the ignition. The engine sputtered out into complete, blessed quiet. "Home sweet home."She stepped out, walked around to my side, and pulled the door open. The night air was crisp, but before I could freeze, she re

Chapter 46The rain lashed against the floor-to-ceiling glass of my office, turning the sprawling city skyline into a blur of grey and neon lights.I stood by the window, swirling a warm mug of black tea in my hands, watching the steady rhythm of the raindrops tracing paths down the glass. To an outside eye, it was a plain ceramic mug—cracked near the handle, chipped at the rim, completely out of place against the sleek, minimalist luxury of the room.It was indeed a cheap five-cent diner mug.Alex had tried to throw it out three different times over the last four years, claiming it ruined the aesthetic of our executive suite. But I kept it right there. A reminder of the night my entire world shifted on its axis—even if it had started with me thinking he was a total con artist.I closed my eyes, letting the sound of the pouring rain carry me backward.The bell above the door of Sally’s 24-Hour Diner chimed softly as cold wind whipped through the doorway.I pulled my oversized, faded g

Chapter 48"I’m telling you, line forty-two is a mistake," Alex said, holding a runway line-sheet above his face like a man trying to decipher ancient graphs. "The structured silk organza coat? It’s too much volume. The models are going to look like luxurious, angry clouds."I didn't look up from my laptop, my fingers flying across the keyboard. "It’s high couture, Alex. It’s meant to create volume. Not everyone wants to look like they're wearing a sleek black funeral suit, which is literally ninety percent of your wardrobe.""Hey! My suits are custom-fitted works of art, thank you very much," he scoffed, dropping the paper onto his chest and glaring over at me. "And what about the velvet shipment from Milan? The factory said the dye batch is delayed by three days. If we don't move the fitting schedule, we’re going to be stitching hemlines in the limo on the way to the venue.""Already handled," I said smoothly, taking a slow sip of my tea. "I shifted the handbag review to Thursday a

Chapter 50The quiet of the late-night atelier was a sound I had come to crave.Soft amber light spilled over the high ceilings, reflecting off bolts of French silk, heavy velvets, and rows of dress forms standing like silent sentinels in the shadows. Classical piano music drifted softly from the small speaker on my desk, blending with the rhythmic snip-snip of my scissors against silk.I leaned closer to the mannequin in front of me, pins held lightly between my lips as my fingers worked to drape a length of emerald organza across the waistline.This room was my sanctuary. Out there in the real world, I had to be Camille Sterling—the fierce, brilliant, untouchable CEO of a rising luxury fashion house. In my head, sometimes I still had to fight off the lingering ghosts of a terrified girl who had run for her life in the dark. But right here, with fabric between my fingers and a design coming to life beneath my hands, my brain finally shut off. The noise vanished. The constant hyper-v