Me Alejó, Ahora Me Está Cazando
img img Me Alejó, Ahora Me Está Cazando img Chapter 1
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Me Alejó, Ahora Me Está Cazando

Gavin
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Chapter 1

I was reborn on the day of my fifty-sixth public confession to my guardian, Charlotte Mayo. In my past life, my obsession had destroyed her, leading to a miserable marriage and her death while saving me. This time, I vowed to fix it.

To push her toward the man she truly loved, I called Howard Franklin to the scene. But the moment he arrived, a heavy stage light crashed to the floor between them. Howard immediately screamed that I had tried to kill him.

Charlotte, the woman I died for, believed him instantly.

Back at the house, he served me soup laced with peanuts, knowing I have a deathly allergy. As my throat seized up, he "accidentally" knocked the EpiPen from my grasp and convinced Charlotte I was having a violent episode.

She watched me suffocate, her face filled with disgust.

"Take him to the cold storage room in the basement," she ordered security. "Let him cool off."

The woman who once rushed me to the ER for this exact allergy now saw me as a monster.

As they dragged me away, I looked back one last time. Over Charlotte's shoulder, Howard was looking directly at me.

He was smiling.

I finally understood. My obsession wasn't the only poison in our lives. He was. And this time, I wouldn't be saving her from myself. I would be saving her from him.

Chapter 1

I am reborn on the day of my fifty-sixth public confession.

The air in the grand hall is thick with the scent of champagne and roses. Hundreds of eyes are on me, a mix of pity and amusement. They see a pathetic young man, Alex Melendez, obsessed with his guardian, Charlotte Mayo, a woman a decade older than him, a titan of the tech world.

The giant screen behind me flashes a slideshow of her face. It' s the same slideshow from my previous life. The same roses. The same suffocating hope.

My heart pounds against my ribs, not with lovesick anticipation, but with the cold, hard rhythm of sheer terror. My palms are slick with sweat. This is real. It' s all happening again.

Then the doors swing open.

Charlotte stands there.

She wears a tailored black suit that makes her look like a queen surveying a battlefield. Her hair is pulled back in a severe bun, and her eyes, the same eyes that once looked at me with warmth, are now chips of ice.

Her gaze sweeps over the ridiculous display, the "Marry Me, Charlotte" spelled out in a thousand red roses, and finally lands on me. The contempt in her eyes is a physical blow.

"Alex."

Her voice cuts through the murmurs of the crowd.

"What is this nonsense?"

I am her ward. She took me in when my parents, her friends, died in a plane crash when I was eight. Legally, she is my guardian. In my heart, she was my world.

She steps closer, her heels clicking an angry rhythm on the marble floor. "I' ve told you. This is inappropriate. I am your guardian. Not your... object of affection."

She grabs my wrist, her grip painfully tight. The expensive fabric of her suit sleeve brushes against my skin.

"End this. Now."

My throat is dry. All I can see is her face from my last memory, streaked with blood and tears, her body shielding mine from the falling wreckage of our car.

"Live, Alex," she had gasped, her last breath a warm puff against my cheek. "Just... live."

She died saving me. After a lifetime where my obsession destroyed everything. I sabotaged her relationship with Howard Franklin, the man she truly loved. I drove him to his death in a staged "accident". She married me out of a twisted sense of duty, a punishment for us both. Our marriage was a cold, silent hell. And in the end, her act of saving me was the only genuine love she had shown me in years, and it cost her everything.

Now, I have a second chance. Not for me. For her.

The memories flash through my mind in a split second, a lifetime of regret compressed into a single, agonizing moment.

I look at her, at the cold fury on her face, and for the first time, I don't see rejection. I see a cage. A cage I helped build.

I will not make the same mistake.

I take a deep breath, forcing the tremor out of my voice. I let my shoulders slump, crafting a look of defeated realization.

"You're right, Charlotte."

I turn to the stunned crowd. "I'm sorry, everyone. This was a mistake. A childish prank that went too far."

I pull a small, sad smile. "My guardian is right. I need to grow up."

Charlotte' s grip on my wrist loosens. She stares at me, her eyes narrowed with suspicion. This is not the reaction she expected. She expected tears, begging, a dramatic scene. She didn't expect surrender.

"What game are you playing now?" she murmurs, her voice low and dangerous.

I ignore her. Instead, I pull out my phone. My fingers shake as I scroll to a name I know by heart. Howard Franklin. In my past life, I deleted this number with vicious satisfaction. Now, it is my only tool for her salvation.

I press 'call'.

The phone rings once, twice. He picks up.

"Hello?"

"Howard," I say, my voice loud enough for Charlotte to hear. "It's Alex. I'm at the Grand Hyatt ballroom. Charlotte wants to see you. She' s been waiting."

A beat of silence on the other end. "What?"

"Just come," I say, and hang up.

I turn back to Charlotte. I force myself to meet her suspicious gaze.

"He was the one you wanted to be here with, wasn't he?" My voice is a hollow whisper. "I'm sorry. For everything."

Before she can process my words, Howard Franklin walks in. He is charismatic, handsome, everything I am not. He looks at the scene, confused, then his eyes find Charlotte's, and a slow smile spreads across his face.

He walks towards her, his eyes never leaving hers. He doesn't even glance at me.

"Charlotte," he says, his voice a low caress. "I got a strange call."

She is still looking at me, her mind clearly racing, trying to understand my angle. She is a CEO. She looks for the strategy, the manipulation in everything.

And that's when I see it. A flicker of movement from above. One of the heavy stage spotlights, directly over Howard and Charlotte, is wobbling.

In my last life, this didn't happen.

My blood runs cold. It' s Howard. He must have arranged this. A way to frame me from the very start.

"Look out!" I scream, shoving myself forward.

But I'm too late. Charlotte, ever protective of the man she loves, reacts on instinct. She grabs Howard's arm and yanks him back, pulling him out of the direct path of danger.

They stumble back together, a perfect picture of concern.

The heavy metal fixture crashes to the floor exactly where they had been standing. It doesn't hit me directly, but the force of the impact sends it skittering across the marble. It slams into my leg, and a shower of hot sparks and shattered glass erupts, peppering my face and arms.

A searing pain shoots up my leg. I collapse, the world tilting.

The crowd gasps.

Through the ringing in my ears, I hear Howard's voice, laced with manufactured panic and accusation.

"My God, Charlotte! He did this! He tried to kill me!"

I look up. Howard is pointing a trembling finger at me, his face a mask of terror. Charlotte is staring at him, then at me. Her expression hardens from suspicion into pure, unadulterated disgust.

She believes him.

"Get him out of here," she says, her voice like ice.

Two security guards haul me to my feet. The pain in my leg is white-hot, but it' s nothing compared to the cold abyss opening in my chest.

She doesn' t even look at my injuries. She is fussing over Howard, brushing a piece of dust from his perfect suit.

They drag me away. As they pull me through the door, I look back one last time.

I see her, the woman I died for, wrapping her arms around the man who will destroy her.

And I see Howard Franklin, over her shoulder, looking directly at me.

He is smiling.

            
            

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