Chapter 2 Rebirth

Eleanor's eyes snapped open, her chest heaving as if she'd been yanked from a nightmare. The world spun, a blur of silk and soft lighting, before settling into focus. She was lying in her bed-the king-sized one with the sleek, minimalist headboard she'd chosen to match the penthouse's aesthetic. The air smelled of her jasmine diffuser, not blood. Her hands flew to her side, expecting the sticky warmth of a wound, but her skin was smooth beneath the satin of her sleep shirt.

Her breath caught. I'm alive.

Beside her, a faint snore broke the silence. She turned, heart lurching. Cedric lay sprawled across the pillows, his dark hair messy, his face relaxed in sleep. The sight of him-her husband, her betrayer-sent a surge of rage through her, so intense she nearly shook him awake. But something stopped her. This wasn't right. She had died. She had felt the cold marble of the ballroom floor, tasted the blood in her mouth, heard his cruel laughter as her life slipped away.

Her gaze darted around the room. The floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city skyline, the abstract art she'd bought at auction, the smart speaker on the nightstand she'd argued with Cedric about-it was all here, but different. The digital clock glowed softly: 6:47 AM. Her pulse raced. This was her bedroom, but not as she'd last seen it. It was... earlier. Before her world collapsed.

She slipped from the bed, her bare feet silent on the heated hardwood, and crossed to the windows. The city below buzzed with morning traffic, not the autumn stillness she remembered from her final days. Her hands trembled as she grabbed her phone from the charger. The lock screen read: April 17, 2024.

Her knees buckled, and she gripped the window ledge to steady herself. One year. She was one year before her death. The charity gala-the night her downfall began, when Cedric and Marianne's affair became undeniable-was tonight. The realization hit like a shockwave. She wasn't just alive. She had been given a chance. A chance to rewrite her fate.

Her reflection in the glass caught her eye. The woman staring back was younger, her skin flawless, her eyes bright but haunted by the naivety she now despised. She touched her face, tracing her jawline. This is real. And if it was real, so was her vow. I'll ruin you both.

Cedric stirred behind her, his voice groggy. "Ellie? Why are you up so early?"

She forced her expression into a mask of calm, turning to face him. His blue eyes, once her everything, now made her skin crawl. "Couldn't sleep," she said, her voice steady despite the fury within. "I'll let you rest."

He mumbled something and rolled over, oblivious to the storm brewing in her heart. Good. Let him underestimate her. She slipped into the walk-in closet, closing the door softly, and leaned against it, her mind racing.

The gala. It was the turning point. Cedric had used it to schmooze her father's corporate allies, securing their investments while spreading rumors of her "instability." Marianne had been there, dazzling and cunning, cementing her role as Cedric's partner while playing the loyal friend. By the end of that night, Eleanor's reputation had begun to fracture, her influence fading as Cedric's power grew.

She needed to stop it. But how? She was no longer the trusting fool who had died on that ballroom floor. She had knowledge-painful, hard-won knowledge-of their betrayal. And she had time. Not much, but enough.

Eleanor moved to her wardrobe, pulling out a sleek, emerald-green dress-bold, unlike the muted tones she'd worn to please Cedric. Tonight, she would not blend in. She would command the room, sow doubt, and begin dismantling their carefully laid plans.

As she dressed, her mind churned. Step one: confirm their affair. She needed proof-texts, emails, something undeniable-to expose them without tanking her own credibility. Step two: protect her father's company. Cedric controlled the financial accounts, but she knew where he kept the encrypted files-on a private server in his home office. If she could access them, she could find evidence of his siphoning funds to fuel his political campaign. Step three: turn their allies against them. The investors at the gala were fickle, loyal only to profit. If she could outshine Cedric, remind them of her family's legacy, she could shift the narrative.

A plan was forming, rough but promising. She tied her hair into a sleek updo, securing it with a silver hairpin-her mother's, a reminder of the strength she'd inherited. The woman in the mirror now looked like a force, not a victim.

****

At noon, she met Marianne at a trendy downtown café. The sight of her friend-her betrayer-sipping a latte, her blonde hair catching the light, made Eleanor's stomach twist. But she smiled, the same warm smile she'd once given freely.

"Ellie, you look stunning!" Marianne said, her voice sugary. "Is that dress new? Cedric's going to lose it."

Eleanor's smile tightened. "Thought I'd switch things up." She sat, accepting a coffee, her eyes locked on Marianne's. "You seem excited. Big plans for the gala?"

Marianne's laugh was light, but her eyes flickered, just for a moment. "You know me, I love a good party. And Cedric's keynote tonight is going to kill it."

His keynote. Eleanor remembered it now-the moment he'd won over the investors, positioning himself as the future of her father's company while subtly undermining her. She sipped her coffee, her mind racing. "I'm sure it will," she said sweetly. "But I've got a few surprises of my own."

Marianne's brow arched, but she said nothing, her smile a perfect mask. Eleanor mirrored it, her heart pounding with a mix of fear and adrenaline. She was playing a high-stakes game, but she had no choice. She would not die again.

As the day wore on, Eleanor moved with purpose. She slipped into Cedric's home office while he was at a meeting, her hands steady as she hacked the server password-thankfully, he still used the same predictable one. The files were there, their data revealing discrepancies she could use later. She overheard their housekeeper muttering about Cedric and Marianne's "late-night calls," their words fueling her resolve.

****

By evening, the penthouse buzzed with gala preparations. Eleanor stood before her mirror, the emerald dress clinging to her like armor. Her reflection was no longer naive. It was sharp, calculating, alive with purpose. She tucked her phone into her clutch-screenshots of the files, names of allies to sway, and a single note from her vow: I will never forgive.

As she descended the private elevator, the hum of guests filled the air. Cedric waited in the lobby, his smile polished but distant. "You look... bold," he said, his tone tinged with surprise.

She met his gaze, her own unwavering. "Thank you, darling. Tonight will be unforgettable."

He offered his arm, unaware of the fire igniting within her. Marianne joined them, her red dress a stark contrast to Eleanor's emerald. The three of them stepped into the ballroom, the crowd parting like a wave. Eleanor felt their stares, their murmurs, and for the first time, she welcomed them.

The gala had begun. And so had her revenge.

To be continued...