Novelas y relatos de Reborn Queens Gambit

"What did you say? He's getting married? That's impossible. I don't believe it. How could he do this to me?" I dug my nails into my thigh to stop myself from laughing. "See for yourself. The Moore family's heir is marrying Luna Summers. The funny thing is she came from a modest background, just like you. And she's also pregnant with Mr. Moore's baby." Aria's face twisted with anger. Radiation forgotten, she snatched my phone and held it inches from her eyes, reading and rereading the article. Then, her fingers went slack. The phone slipped from her hand and hit the floor with a loud crack.

After all, she was the legitimate daughter of his official wife, while I was merely the illegitimate child from one of his affairs. I looked at Alice, who was kneeling on the ground. Though her face was streaked with tears and full of pitiful sorrow, the ambition and excitement in her eyes were unmistakable. I knew then: she had been reborn too. And this time, she had made it to Max's bed before I did.

She had actually changed the trajectory of her previous life. In her first life, this date—exactly one week after what should have been Marcus's and her engagement announcement—she had been planning floral arrangements and seating charts for a wedding that would end in her murder. She had been so blind, so willfully ignorant of the poison that Gwen dripped into her ear day after day, convincing her that Marcus was the perfect choice, that Damien Cross was beneath her consideration.

After all, she was the legitimate daughter of his official wife, while I was merely the illegitimate child from one of his affairs. I looked at Bella, who was kneeling on the ground. Though her face was streaked with tears and full of pitiful sorrow, the ambition and excitement in her eyes were unmistakable. I knew then: she had been reborn too. And this time, she had made it to Jacob's bed before I did.

And when Edric lifted my hand in his—our bond glowing gold between us—everyone saw it. The crackle of power. The pulse of fate. The sheer divine warning that this Queen was no longer rejected. She was reborn. Ruthless. Royal. And ready to burn down every doubt with her mate beside her. So yes. Let them envy. Let them gossip. Let them burn in their gowns of green and gold. Because as I stood beside the King—his gaze on me like I was both his crown and his battlefield—I finally understood something deep in my bones:

Then it was gone. The heat went away. It left only emptiness. I was not a queen. I was a tomb. Two times now, life had died inside me. A single tear fell down my cheek. It burned like fire. The room was silent. The fire cracked. I was alive. That was my only win. But it felt like the emptiest win in the world.

Her last few words stayed with me: "Ethan, I love you and believe in you, and even if I had to come back to life a thousand times, I would choose you, and if we are ever reborn, come find me and know that I am always waiting for you. Those words hit me hard—and then she vanishes. The battlefield dissolves, and suddenly, I’m standing in the grand throne hall of the palace I used to call home. The golden walls shimmer in the sunlight, banners of Ether proudly hanging above the court. My father, King Gainos, is on his throne—strong and noble, his armor still showing the signs of battle. His crown shines like firelight, and next to him is my grandmother, Queen Dowager Lunice, regal and icy, her

"I came back to visit my hometown, but I was ambushed along the way. On top of that, you had always said in your past life that after we got married, we would spend our honeymoon in Costa Solara. That's why I came back." Hearing this, I realized he had been reborn as well. Lucio studied my expression carefully before saying, "Have you been reborn as well? Otherwise, how could you have written Bella's name on the invitation back then?" I didn't answer him directly. Instead, I said coldly, "There is no need to dwell on the past. What's over is over. Take care of your health." As I turned to leave, Lucio called out after me, "What do you mean, 'no need to dwell on it'? After all this time, do y

Sébastien took a step closer, stopping exactly at the edge of the dais as if the Sanctuary had drawn him a line and he wasn’t stupid enough to cross it. “You’re not a version,” he said softly. “You’re not a build.” I swallowed. “Then what am I?” His gaze sharpened. “You’re the Queen.” I laughed. It wasn’t cute. It wasn’t light. It was the sound of a woman who has survived too many manipulative men with pretty mouths and ugly agendas. “No,” I said. “Try again.” Sébastien didn’t flinch. “Reincarnation,” he said. “Not metaphor. Not romance-novel destiny. Literal. The Queen fractured herself to escape the Concord—distributed her essence across bloodlines and time.”

She had reached the top of the mountain only to find that the air was too thin to breathe. “Are you okay?” Dakota asked softly as they reached the guest wing. Rebel stopped and looked at the silver mark on her arm. It was glowing with a soft, steady light, a reminder of the goddess’s choice. “I am alive, Dakota. And for now, that has to be enough.” “He was an idiot,” Kaelen said, his voice gruff. “But he loves you, Rebel. He just forgot that love requires faith.” “Faith is a luxury I can no longer afford,” Rebel replied, her voice sounding older than her years. “I am a Queen now. And Queens do not rely on faith. They rely on themselves.”