Reborn And Remade: Ruining My Toxic Family

Audrina POV:

"Audrina, couldn't you just obediently hand your design achievements over to me? Why did you have to fight and snatch them back?" my stepsister Elizabeth had sighed, her voice sickeningly sweet. "I originally didn't want to lay a hand on my own family, but you were just too willful. I had no choice but to ruin your face and destroy your reputation so you would finally stay at home and behave."

"Elizabeth, you are far too kind," my half brother Caleb had spat, kicking my bruised body while I was down. "A useless piece of trash like her only exists to disgust people."

"I regret ever giving birth to you. I should have strangled you the moment you were born instead of letting you taint our Morgan family's perfect image," my biological mother, Susan, had hissed, her eyes filled with nothing but pure hatred.

These three sentences, dripping with venom, had been the terrifying soundtrack of my agonizing death in my "last life." My own so called "good family" had mercilessly disfigured my face, framed me as a scandalous thief to ruin my future, and finally left me to die.

Even though I was Susan's biological daughter and possessed far more design talent than Elizabeth, Susan always turned a blind eye when they endlessly bullied me. She favored her stepdaughter and her spoiled son, treating me like disposable trash just to secure her wealthy lifestyle. That was the ultimate betrayal.

The deepest scar, however, was not from their daily cruelty, but from a horrific car crash in my past life. When a severe storm hit, our car was completely crushed by the unforgiving forces of nature. Mike, the driver, died on impact, his body mangled beyond recognition. In a split second of pure instinct, a foolish daughter's instinct, I threw myself over Susan, shielding her fragile body with my own. I paid the ultimate price. I was left critically injured, fighting for my life in the ICU for a grueling month. The constant, rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor became my personal torture. My right wrist was severely crushed, the bones ground into a fine powder. The extensive nerve damage made it impossible to perform any fine movements. It took me years of agonizing, tear filled practice just to hold a pen and complete a design again.

And Susan? My biological mother walked away from that twisted metal wreckage without a single scratch. Yet, during my entire month in the sterile, cold ICU, she never shed a single tear for my ruined future. She never once held my healthy left hand to offer comfort. She only complained to the nurses about the inconvenience my expensive medical bills caused her.

But now, my eyes snapped open. I gasped, the bone deep chill of death fading, replaced by the humid, oppressive August air of Flint. I looked down at my trembling hands. My skin was flawless. I was breathing. I was alive. The suffocating despair was instantly replaced by a sharp, thrilling realization. I had been reborn.

I stood under the peeling paint of my grandmother's porch. My father was in prison, and my mother had abandoned me years ago. It was just me and Grandma Eleanor. But a few days ago, illness took her away, leaving my legal guardianship in the manicured, ruthless hands of my biological mother, Susan Price.

A black Mercedes S Class purred to a stop at the end of the street, the tires crunching loudly against the cheap gravel. The door opened and a woman in a flawless Chanel suit emerged. Susan. She held a delicate black umbrella, her expensive heels picking their way around muddy puddles with a disdain that was practically an art form.

"Look at this place. It is worse than our basement," she muttered, her eyes scanning my grandmother's porch with thinly veiled disgust. She then looked at my faded T-shirt and washed out jeans, her perfectly drawn eyebrows knitted together. "You look incredibly shabby, Audrina. Is that really all you have to wear?"

Her tone held no warmth of a reunion, only deep, unfiltered impatience.

"Why are you not at school at this hour? I went all the way to your school first and completely wasted my time!" Susan scolded, glaring at me as if I were a stain on her perfect life. "You are so undisciplined. You should really learn from your stepsister, Elizabeth. She is so gentle, kind, and excellent. And your half brother Caleb, he is brave and lively. You are absolutely nothing compared to them."

I lifted my head and met her furious gaze directly, a cold, mocking smirk slowly curving my lips. I felt no sorrow, only a chilling emptiness. Gentle and kind? The same Elizabeth who stole my design portfolio and spread vicious rumors that I slept with multiple old men for money? Brave and lively? I completely agreed. If using weapons against me and violently stabbing a classmate with a fruit knife was "brave," then sure. If Susan had not used the Morgan fortune to forcefully bury that bloody incident, her precious Caleb would be rotting in a juvenile detention center right now.

I watched her look so immensely proud of her two little monsters. Let these demons rejoice for a little longer, I thought. Because once the demon hunter arrives, their smiles will be wiped away forever.

"Elizabeth is always so dedicated to her studies, unlike you." Susan continued to ramble on, constantly using her two "perfect" children to trample on my dignity.

"I had a high fever for three days. I just recovered today," I interrupted her bluntly, my voice icy and devoid of any daughterly affection.

Susan's boastful words caught in her throat. She froze for a second, but then quickly scoffed to save face. "So what? Elizabeth still insists on going to school even when she has a severe cold! You just had a little fever and you skipped three whole days of classes? How pathetic."

Finding it boring to continue this one sided argument, she waved her hand dismissively. "Whatever. Hurry up and pack your things," she commanded arrogantly. "I do not want to spend another second in this miserable dump."

I did not argue. I turned and walked inside, slowly and deliberately packing my few belongings. I took a massive amount of time to pack a very small amount of things, folding each faded shirt with exaggerated care.

I kept glancing at the rusted clock on the wall. Tick. Tock. I had to try my hardest to stall for time. I was waiting for the severe weather to brew. This time, I would not let her drag me to my death.

Audrina POV:

I estimated that enough time had passed. The severe weather was brewing right on schedule. The sky above Flint had turned a bruised, unnatural shade of purple, and the wind began to howl through the narrow streets. I slung my small, faded backpack over my shoulder and finally stepped back out onto the porch.

Seeing me, Susan's face turned purple with deep impatience.

"You took all that time just for this?" she shrieked, pointing a perfectly manicured finger right at my nose, her voice shrill enough to shatter glass. "You drag your feet just like that useless piece of trash who fathered you! You should be thanking God on your knees that you get to associate with high class people like us!"

I did not hesitate. I moved faster than she could even blink. I grabbed her outstretched finger and twisted her wrist sharply backward. I heard a highly satisfying, faint pop as her joint was strained to its absolute limit. I tightened my iron grip slightly, looking down at her from a superior angle, thoroughly enjoying the momentary flash of genuine terror in her eyes.

"Ahhh!" Susan shrieked, her face twisting in sheer agony. All her aristocratic elegance vanished instantly as her knees buckled slightly, nearly dropping to the dirty pavement. Her expensive umbrella clattered to the ground.

"I despise people pointing at me," I said, my voice dangerously soft and flat, cutting through her screams. "For a so called high class woman, your logic and manners are worse than a street orphan's."

The driver, Mike Kowalski, looked shocked, his large hands gripping the steering wheel tightly, but he did not dare to intervene. I coldly released Susan's arm, leaving her cradling her wrist and panting with rage, her face pale and covered in cold sweat.

I did not get into the luxury car. Instead, I pointed to the corner coffee shop, a cozy place called "The Daily Grind."

"I need half an hour," I said, adjusting my backpack. "To collect my final paycheck and say goodbye."

"Audrina, do not push your luck!" Susan hissed, trembling with pain and unimaginable humiliation.

I looked at her calmly, completely unbothered by her fury. "You can wait here, or you can go on to Weston. I will get there myself."

My ultimatum hung in the tense air between us. She knew I was not bluffing. Faced with the choice of being publicly humiliated in front of the driver or waiting thirty minutes, she chose the latter. She stormed back to the Lincoln, her heels clicking aggressively, and slammed the heavy door shut with enough force to shake the entire car.

I walked into the coffee shop. The cheerful bell chimed above the door. The warm scent of roasted coffee beans and sweet pastries instantly eased some of the tension in my shoulders. My coworker, Holly, saw me and rushed over for a quick, tight hug.

"Audrina! I cannot believe you are really leaving!" she said, her voice full of genuine sadness. She was one of the few sources of warmth in this miserable town, always sharing her lunch with me when I was broke.

I hugged her back briefly, then slipped on my work apron and started helping her with the afternoon rush. I desperately needed this last paycheck to cover the final portion of my grandmother's medical bills. It was the only honorable thing left for me to do.

Susan's fragile patience finally ran out. She pushed open the door to the cafe, her expensive heels clicking an angry rhythm on the wooden floor. She had left her umbrella in the car, and the sudden gust of wind had messed up her perfectly styled hair. She looked entirely out of place and slightly ridiculous as she marched right up to the counter.

"You need that little money?" she hissed, her voice trembling with pain and fury from the earlier altercation. "Can't the Morgans provide for you?"

"I am used to providing for myself," I said flatly, taking the thin cash envelope from Holly. "After all, I only ever had my elderly, severely ill grandmother to rely on while you were living in luxury."

Just then, a violent flash of lightning split the dark sky, illuminating the entire shop in a stark white glow, followed immediately by a deafening clap of thunder that rattled the coffee cups on the tables. The lights in the shop flickered wildly before stabilizing. Customers gasped in shock. Fat, heavy raindrops began to hammer against the glass windows like bullets.

Holly's phone blared with a severe weather alert, the harsh tone piercing the murmurs of the crowd. She glanced at it, her face turning pale. "Oh my god, the weather service just issued a tornado warning! They are advising everyone to stay off the roads immediately!"

Susan's phone buzzed with the exact same alert. She pulled it out, and her expression turned as ugly and stormy as the sky outside.

The driver, Mike Kowalski, rushed into the shop, his burly face frantic, his suit jacket soaked from the brief run. "Ma'am, the Interstate 90 is closed in both directions! There was a massive accident involving multiple vehicles. We are not going anywhere tonight!"

Susan stared at Mike in disbelief, then at the torrential rain washing down the windows, and finally, her eyes locked on me. Her gaze was filled with a furious, confused suspicion, as if I had summoned the storm myself just to spite her.

I offered her an innocent, almost mocking smile, casually wiping the counter with a cloth. "Looks like we are staying here for the night, Mrs. Morgan. Stay safe."

Susan's lips trembled with rage, but she could not say a single word. She was completely trapped. She was trapped with me, in the very town she despised more than anything.

Audrina POV:

Susan ended up at the Flint Gateway Motel, the only decent lodging in town according to Mike. She stood in the lobby on the cheap, patterned carpet, her face a mask of absolute disgust. She looked like a spoiled queen forced to sleep in a dirty stable.

She booked two rooms, tossing one of the key cards at me like a cheap coin to a beggar before stalking off to her own room without another word. I caught the key card smoothly. Watching her stiff back, I knew she was in for a miserable, sleepless night. That was satisfying enough for me.

My room smelled of harsh disinfectant and dampness. I took a long, hot shower, washing away the grime of the day and the lingering, suffocating shadows of my past life.

The rain began to soften into a steady drizzle, but a gnawing hunger started in my stomach. I decided to find the motel's vending machine. I pulled the hood of my faded sweatshirt over my head, shoved my hands deep into my pockets, and walked along the second floor outdoor corridor.

The lights were flickering and dim, the air cold and clean after the heavy rain. As I rounded a sharp corner, I heard voices.

Two men were leaning against the rusty railing, smoking. One of them had a light, playful voice. "Archer, are you sick in the head? You could be in a five star hotel in Boston, but instead, you are here in this hellhole, getting rained on."

The other voice was lower, a smooth, deep, and incredibly dangerous rumble with a lazy edge. "Shut up, Kennedy."

I froze for a second. Archer. The name felt strangely familiar, but I could not immediately place it.

I kept walking toward the glowing vending machine, but I could feel a heavy, piercing pair of eyes on my back. The gaze was sharp and intensely focused, exactly like a top predator tracking its prey in the dark. A sudden shiver went down my spine, and my entire body tensed.

I quickened my pace, pretending to study the selection of chips and candy bars. From the corner of my eye, I saw the blond man, Kennedy, walk away. The tall, dark figure remained, still leaning against the railing.

He was wearing a black hoodie, his frame lean but massively powerful. As the undisputed captain of Briar University's ice hockey team, his athletic build was intimidating. Even in the dim light, he had an undeniable, oppressive presence. He was watching me.

I bought a bottle of water and turned to leave. The corridor was narrow, and the rain had made the concrete floor dangerously slick. As I tried to walk past him quickly with my head down, my worn sneaker slipped on a puddle.

I gasped, bracing for a painful fall. But before I could hit the ground, a large, incredibly strong arm shot out and wrapped firmly around my waist.

I crashed hard against a solid, muscular chest. The impact knocked the breath out of me. His large hand, heavily calloused from years of gripping a hockey stick, gripped my waist with a possessive, burning heat that seeped right through my thin sweatshirt. I was instantly enveloped in his scent, a sharp mix of mint, rain, and raw, intoxicating masculine pheromones. The physical contact sent a jolt of pure, electric tension straight to my core.

I snapped my head up and fell into a pair of ice blue eyes.

They were as deep and cold as the Arctic Ocean, yet they held a fierce, burning flicker of something else, a dark curiosity and an intense hunger I could not name. My heart skipped a heavy beat. The air between us seemed to crackle, suddenly hotter than the lightning storm. It was a raw, magnetic pull, a heavy, suffocating sexual tension that made my breath hitch.

"Careful," he murmured, his voice a husky vibration against my chest.

Our eyes held for a breathless second before I violently pushed myself out of his grip, tearing my gaze away, and hurried back to my room without a word.

Inside, I leaned against the locked door, my heart hammering wildly against my ribs. Those eyes... why did they feel so dangerously familiar?

Archer Black POV:

Down in the motel parking lot, sitting inside my matte black Audi RS7, I lowered my phone. My palm still tingled with the lingering warmth of her soft waist.

"Kennedy," I said to the blond man in the driver's seat, my voice laced with a dark, undeniable obsession. "Find out everything about the girl in room 207."

Ever since I was reborn, her face had haunted my every nightmare. In my past life, on that damned Interstate 90 highway, I was the one who pulled her fragile, blood soaked body from the twisted metal of that horrific crash. I knew she had sacrificed herself to save a mother who did not even care about her, spending a month in the ICU and ruining her brilliant hands. I had watched her suffer in my past life, unable to save her from the Morgan family's cruelty in time. But this time, God had given me a second chance. I had found her before the tragedy could happen.

There was no way in hell I was letting her slip through my fingers again.

I watched the rain wash over the dark windows of the motel. Tomorrow, she would be walking right into the viper's nest of the Morgan estate. I leaned back into the leather seat, a dark, predatory smirk curving my lips. I could not wait to see how my fierce little survivor planned to tear that perfect, fake family apart.