My Blood, My Destiny Rewritten

My blood is a secret, a rare healing gift, but in my first life, it sealed my painful destiny.

Because I healed Ethan Davenport Jr., an ancient family pact forced me into a miserable marriage with him, a man who despised me and loved the cunning Veronica Sterling.

Veronica, in a vicious plot, faked a terrible accident and convinced Ethan that only my special blood could save her.

Blinded by his infatuation, Ethan ruthlessly demanded my life essence, forcing me to bleed for her, again and again.

I died from exsanguination, my extraordinary power grotesquely twisted into the instrument of my demise.

The revelation of Veronica's calculated deception and my husband's complicity was a shattering, unbearable injustice that followed me into the void.

But then, I woke up, back on the precise day my tragedy began, granted an impossible second chance.

This time, I will not be a victim; I will rewrite my fate, wielding my gift to build a life of my own choosing, far from their shadows.

My blood is special.

It heals.

This isn't magic, not like in storybooks. It's a secret, a heavy one, passed down through the Vance family for generations. We live quietly in New England, practicing our old folk healing, mostly forgotten by the world.

This blood, my unique inheritance, was the reason I died in my first life.

It healed Ethan Davenport Jr., the son of a rich Boston family. He was paralyzed.

Because of an old pact between our families, a promise sworn generations ago that whoever healed him would be his spouse, I was forced to marry him.

Ethan never wanted me.

He loved Veronica Sterling, a socialite, beautiful and cruel. He treated me with pure contempt.

Veronica, always scheming, faked a terrible accident. She claimed she was looking for a rare Amazonian orchid to cure Ethan. A lie.

Then she pretended to be dying.

Ethan, completely fooled by her act, believed only my blood could save Veronica. He forced me.

I gave my blood, again and again, until there was nothing left.

I died from exsanguination.

Later, I learned Veronica' s "accident" was a complete setup. She was never in real danger. It was all a plan to get rid of me, to secure her place with Ethan. She had her own shady business, dangerous connections that had put her in some trouble, but she twisted it to her advantage.

Then, I woke up.

Sunlight streamed through a window. I knew this room. The Davenport mansion.

It was the day they first called me, the day I was supposed to assess Ethan' s paralysis. My second chance.

I walked into Ethan' s grand bedroom. He sat in a wheelchair, a sullen, arrogant look on his face.

Mrs. Abigail Davenport, his mother, watched me with desperate eyes.

I looked at Ethan, then at his mother.

"His condition is permanent," I said, my voice cool, steady.

"Untreatable by any known means, conventional or otherwise."

Mrs. Davenport gasped.

Ethan' s face darkened.

I added, looking at Mrs. Davenport, "Perhaps you should focus on your other heirs, if you have any."

"You insolent quack!" Ethan roared.

He grabbed a priceless antique clock from a nearby table and hurled it at me.

I sidestepped it easily. It shattered against the wall.

"Such a temper," I remarked, looking at the broken pieces, then back at him. "The psychological toll of helplessness can be quite severe, can't it?"

Mrs. Davenport rushed after me as I turned to leave.

"Miss Vance, please! Anything! We' ll give you anything!" Her voice was thick with tears.

I stopped at the doorway.

"Mrs. Davenport," I said, my voice firm, "some things are beyond even my family's legendary capabilities. Your son will not walk again."

From inside the room, Ethan yelled, his voice filled with a strange, delusional confidence.

"I don't need her! Veronica is already on her way to South America! She' s finding the Sunpetal Orchid! It will cure me!"

I almost smiled. The Sunpetal Orchid. Another of Veronica' s fantasies.

As I walked down the long driveway of the Davenport estate, a car pulled up beside me.

A woman I didn' t recognize from this life, her face etched with worry, got out.

"Miss Vance?" she asked, her voice trembling. "I'm Sarah McKenna. My son, Liam... he was in the same yachting accident as Ethan Davenport. He' s in a coma."

She clutched my arm, her eyes pleading.

"They say you have... a gift. Please, I heard whispers. Please, can you help my son?"

My heart clenched. Liam McKenna. In my past life, I barely registered his name. Another victim.

The thought of using my blood again, after what it cost me, made me sick.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. McKenna," I said softly. "I can't help him."

Weeks passed.

An invitation arrived, embossed with the Davenport crest. A charity gala.

A handwritten note from Mrs. Davenport was tucked inside.

"Elara, my dear, I know our last meeting was... difficult. But Veronica has returned with the Sunpetal Orchid. She insists it will work. Would you consider attending the gala? Perhaps... discreetly assess it? For my peace of mind."

Discreetly assess a flower. Right. She was still hoping.

The gala was a sea of diamonds and forced smiles.

Veronica Sterling was the star, of course. She clung to Ethan' s arm, her smile radiant as she presented a wilting, ordinary-looking flower on a velvet cushion. The "miraculous" Sunpetal Orchid.

"Isn't it wonderful, darling?" she cooed at Ethan, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Soon, you'll be walking again. And then, our wedding!"

Ethan beamed, his eyes full of adoration for her. "The biggest wedding Boston has ever seen, my love."

Then Veronica saw me. Her smile tightened.

She glided over, Ethan in his motorized chair following her like a devoted pet.

"Well, well, look who it is," Veronica announced, her voice dripping with scorn. "The famous folk healer, Elara Vance. Or should I say, charlatan?"

The crowd quieted, turning to watch.

"It seems your... traditional methods failed where true dedication succeeded," Veronica continued, gesturing to her sad little orchid. "I traveled to the ends of the earth for Ethan."

A few prominent doctors, men the Davenports had consulted and dismissed before I was ever called in my first life, murmured nearby. I could hear their skepticism about Veronica's "find."

"She's right, you know," Ethan chimed in, his voice full of disdain for me. "Veronica is a miracle worker. You couldn't do a thing."

He looked at me like I was something he' d scraped off his shoe. The same look he' d given me for years in our miserable marriage.

I met Veronica's smug gaze. Ethan' s contempt was a familiar sting, but this time, it fueled a cold fire within me.

"A miracle worker?" I repeated, a slight smile playing on my lips. "Is that so?"

Veronica bristled. "Are you doubting me?"

"Not at all," I said smoothly. "I'm merely curious about results."

"My results will speak for themselves!" Veronica snapped. "Ethan will walk!"

Ethan puffed up his chest. "She's right! This orchid is the key!"

Goaded by their arrogance, an idea sparked. A dangerous, public idea.

"Alright then," I said, my voice clear and carrying through the sudden hush. "Let's make a wager."

Veronica's eyes narrowed. "A wager?"

"Ten days," I declared. "Let's see if your orchid gets Ethan walking, or if I can wake Liam McKenna from his coma."

A collective gasp went through the attendees. Liam McKenna. Everyone knew his situation was dire.

"The loser," I continued, my gaze fixed on Veronica, "publicly admits their incompetence. And they will be ostracized from Boston's elite circles. No more parties, no more respect. A social death."

Veronica' s eyes gleamed with malice. The chance to utterly humiliate me was too tempting for her to resist.

"You're on, charlatan!" she spat. "It will be my pleasure to see you ruined."

Ethan, ever her champion, laughed. "I'm betting a considerable sum on Veronica, of course! Prepare for your downfall, Vance!"

The high-society crowd buzzed with excitement. A real-life drama, better than any theater.