Reborn As The Cold Villain's Daughter

Hayley's consciousness ripped out of the dark.

She gasped for air, but her lungs seized. A thick, suffocating sensation coated her throat, like her airway was packed with thick, unyielding cotton. She coughed, a weak, wet sound that rattled in her chest.

Panic spiked. She tried to reach up to rub the blur from her eyes, but her arms felt heavy and uncoordinated. When her hands finally crossed her line of sight, her breath hitched.

These were not her hands.

They were tiny. Plump. The fingers were short and dimpled.

She opened her mouth to scream, to demand what was happening, but her vocal cords betrayed her. Instead of a shout, a high-pitched, nonsensical wail tore from her lips. Ah-ah-ah!

The sheer lack of control sent a shockwave of terror through her system. She tried to roll over, to push herself up, but her muscles felt entirely foreign and weak, her coordination laughably poor. A clumsy, desperate lurch was all she could manage before she flopped backward, her heavy head hitting a soft, firm mattress with a dull thud.

A sharp, piercing static noise suddenly exploded in her skull.

The pain was blinding. She squeezed her eyes shut, her tiny chest heaving.

Target acquired. Welcome to the Kismet System, a cold, mechanical voice echoed directly into her brain. You are dead in your original world. You have been transmigrated into a corporate revenge novel.

Hayley tried to shake her head. This was a hallucination. A nightmare.

The system didn't care. It forced a massive data packet into her mind. Images, names, and plotlines slammed into her consciousness, making her stomach churn.

Edward McClure.

She recognized the name instantly. He was the ruthless tech mogul from the novel, the cold-blooded villain who ultimately put a bullet in his own head in the final act of the story.

You are currently occupying the body of his illegitimate daughter, the system stated, devoid of any empathy. The child who, after being sent away to a state orphanage tonight, is officially signed away by him at age two and later dies after being sold to human traffickers.

Hayley's tiny heart hammered against her ribs. The survival instinct kicked in, overriding the panic. She focused her thoughts, screaming internally at the machine. How do I change it? How do I survive?

Your ultimate mission is to prevent Edward McClure's self-destruction, the system replied. Step one: Survive tonight's abandonment crisis.

Before Hayley could process the terrifying weight of that task, a violent crash shattered the silence outside her room.

Porcelain shattered against a wall. The sound made her tiny body flinch involuntarily.

"Please, Mr. McClure! I'm sorry!" a woman's voice shrieked through the heavy wooden door. She sounded like she was begging for her life.

The air in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.

"Get out."

The man's voice was low, flat, and completely devoid of human warmth. It wasn't a shout, but the absolute authority in those two words cut off the woman's sobbing instantly.

Hayley's breath caught. That was him. Edward McClure. The tyrant. Her so-called father.

Red Alert, the system flashed in her mind. Edward McClure is on the verge of a manic episode. He is currently debating sending you to a state orphanage tonight.

Hayley tried to force her tear ducts to close. She knew crying would only anger him more. But the biological mechanics of a six-month-old infant were impossible to override. Hot tears spilled over her cheeks, and her chest hitched with uncontrollable sobs.

Heavy, measured footsteps approached the nursery door.

Each step sounded like a death knell. The oppressive weight of his presence bled through the wood.

Hayley's adult mind raced. She couldn't stop the crying, so she had to change the tone. She forced herself to swallow the loud wails, converting the terrified screams into soft, pathetic whimpers.

She held her breath until her face turned red, letting the tears pool heavily in her large eyes. She needed to look harmless. Pitiful.

The heavy mahogany door was shoved open.

Harsh, white light from the hallway flooded the dim nursery.

A towering shadow fell over the crib. The scent of expensive cologne mixed with a sharp hint of tobacco hit Hayley's nose, cold and intimidating.

Through her blurry, tear-filled vision, Hayley finally saw him.

Edward McClure's face was sculpted like a Greek statue, all sharp angles and hard lines, but his expression was pure ice. He stared down at her, not with the warmth of a new father, but with the deep, visceral disgust of a man looking at a rat in his pristine home.

He stepped back slightly, his nose wrinkling. The faint smell of baby formula in the room clearly repulsed him.

Warning, the system counted down. Patience level critical.

Hayley knew he was going to turn around and make the call to the orphanage. She bit down on her toothless gums, forcing her uncoordinated muscles to move.

She pushed one chubby arm out from under the blanket.

Fighting the heavy, sluggish feeling in her limbs, she reached her hand up into the empty air toward his chest. She let out a tiny, soft hiccup.

Edward's body froze.

He had already shifted his weight to leave, but the sight of that tiny hand reaching for him stopped him dead in his tracks.

He slowly turned his head back. His cold, gray-blue eyes locked onto the small, trembling fist suspended in the air. For a fraction of a second, the absolute disgust in his gaze fractured into raw confusion.

Edward's eyes remained glued to the tiny hand waving in the air. His jaw clenched so tight the muscle ticked beneath his skin. He didn't step forward. He just stared, calculating the threat level of the infant before him.

Hayley's arm began to shake from the effort. He wasn't moving. Panic flared in her chest.

She needed him to react. She twisted her torso, trying to push herself higher to reach him.

It was a fatal miscalculation.

Her heavy head threw off her balance. She pushed her weight against the mesh siding of the crib, but a decorative wooden fixture, improperly secured by the negligent nanny, gave way under the sudden pressure. A terrifying gap opened up, and half of her torso slipped over the edge.

Gravity took over.

A genuine gasp tore from Hayley's throat as the floor rushed up to meet her. The hardwood looked solid and unforgiving.

Edward's pupils contracted to pinpricks.

His body moved before his brain could process the action. He lunged forward, his long arm sweeping down in a blur of motion.

Just inches before her face smashed into the floor, two large, hard hands clamped firmly under her armpits.

The sudden stop jerked Hayley's shoulders. She gasped for air, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. Pure survival instinct took over. Her tiny hands shot out and grabbed the first solid thing they could find.

Her fists locked onto the lapels of his suit.

Edward froze. He was bent at an awkward angle, holding the heavy, squirming weight of the baby against his chest.

Hayley stared wide-eyed at his face, mere inches from hers. The fabric in her fists was incredibly soft-a custom Tom Ford suit.

Edward's breathing turned shallow. The scent of baby powder and sour milk invaded his personal space. His chest tightened. For a man with severe germaphobia, this physical proximity was suffocating.

He tried to lower her back into the crib.

Hayley refused to let go. Her fingers were tangled tight in his expensive silk tie. She was terrified he would drop her.

Edward let out a sharp, irritated breath. He used his free hand to pry her fingers off his tie. He didn't know how to be gentle. His large fingers dug into her small knuckles, peeling them back with brute force.

A sharp pain shot through Hayley's hand.

The physical hurt bypassed her adult reasoning. Tears flooded her eyes instantly. She opened her mouth and let out a deafening, ear-piercing scream.

The sound bounced off the walls of the nursery. Edward flinched, the veins at his temples throbbing. His tolerance snapped.

"Shut up." he growled, his voice vibrating with dark menace.

He tried to use his sheer presence to intimidate her into silence. But a baby's auditory system only registered the harsh volume. Hayley cried harder, her face turning purple.

As she wailed, the intense emotional stress triggered a biological reaction she couldn't stop. Her six-month-old sphincter muscles, completely unequipped for control, gave out.

Hayley felt a sudden, sharp cramp in her lower abdomen.

No. No, no, no.

She tried to squeeze her legs together, desperately trying to hold back the flood.

It was useless. The adult soul was powerless against the infant body.

A rush of warm liquid soaked through her thin diaper. It spread instantly, saturating the cotton of her onesie.

Because Edward was holding her flush against his torso, the liquid had nowhere else to go.

Edward felt a strange, spreading heat against his stomach.

He looked down.

On the pristine, charcoal-gray fabric of his custom suit, a dark, wet stain was expanding rapidly.

The faint, unmistakable scent of urine hit the air.

Edward's sanity shattered.

He sucked in a sharp breath. Every muscle in his body turned to stone. His face drained of color, then flushed with a rage so pure it was terrifying.

Hayley stopped crying the second the pee hit his suit. She stared up at him, her eyes wide with absolute horror.

Critical Alert! the system shrieked in her head. Villain hostility at maximum capacity!

Edward's arms began to shake. The urge to throw the contaminated object across the room was overwhelming.

Hayley felt his grip loosening. He was going to drop her.

She let go of his tie and threw her arms and legs around his forearm, clinging to him like a desperate octopus.

The movement smeared the wet fabric of her onesie directly across his pristine cuff.

Edward closed his eyes. He dragged a ragged breath through his teeth, fighting the urge to commit murder.

He didn't throw her. Instead, he spun on his heel.

He marched toward the nursery door, his strides long and aggressive. He carried her away from his body like a biohazard, his face a mask of lethal fury.

Hayley dangled from his arm, watching the hallway lights blur past, her mind screaming in absolute despair.

The cold air of the penthouse hallway hit Hayley's wet legs. She shivered violently. Instinctively, she curled inward, her damp body brushing against the solid heat of Edward's chest.

The slight friction made Edward's jaw lock. He snapped his head down, glaring at her with eyes that promised violence.

Hayley froze. She widened her eyes, forcing the tears to pool but not fall, playing the part of a terrified, innocent infant.

Edward didn't slow down. He marched past the master suite and kicked open the door to the adjacent sitting room.

The motion-sensor lights flickered on, illuminating the massive space. Edward held her out at arm's length, his eyes scanning the room like a predator looking for a dumping ground.

His gaze locked onto the wide leather sofa. Draped over the back was a beige Loro Piana cashmere blanket, worth several thousand dollars.

He walked over, grabbed the blanket with his free hand, and yanked it down. He tossed it roughly onto the center of the glass coffee table.

Without a shred of gentleness, he opened his hand.

Hayley dropped onto the soft cashmere with a heavy thud.

She immediately tried to roll away from the wet spot she was creating, but Edward's large hand clamped down hard on her stomach, pinning her in place.

He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a silk square. His face twisted in disgust as he aggressively wiped the moisture from his fingers.

When he was done, he threw the ruined silk into a nearby wastebasket like it was infected.

Then, he grabbed the top left corner of the cashmere blanket.

With jerky, unpracticed movements, he pulled the heavy fabric tightly across Hayley's body, pinning her left arm to her side. Before she could process what was happening, he grabbed the right corner and yanked it over her other arm.

Hayley let out a muffled grunt of protest. She tried to kick, but he folded the bottom of the blanket up, trapping her legs.

He rolled her over once, pulling the fabric taut.

She was completely immobilized. A tightly packed baby burrito.

Hayley stared up at the ceiling, realizing she was now not only sitting in her own urine, but she was also completely paralyzed.

With the threat contained, Edward finally addressed his own disaster. He ripped the ruined silk tie from his neck and threw it on the floor.

He unbuttoned his suit jacket, shrugging it off in one violent motion. The custom dress shirt followed, peeled off and discarded on the expensive rug.

Hayley's eyes widened. She was forced to stare at the man's bare torso. His chest and abdomen were corded with lean, hard muscle, scarred slightly on the left ribcage. She quickly squeezed her eyes shut, her adult mind screaming at the inappropriate exposure.

Edward stalked into the attached walk-in closet. He emerged seconds later, pulling a black silk robe over his shoulders. He tied the belt loosely around his waist, the fabric hanging off him with a dangerous, predatory grace.

He stepped back to the coffee table and stared down at the tightly wrapped bundle. Only Hayley's large eyes and nose were visible.

The physical separation calmed his immediate panic, but the cold, calculating rage remained. Someone was going to pay for this. The staff had failed him.

He leaned down and slid his hands under the thick cashmere. He lifted the twenty-pound bundle effortlessly.

The blanket was so thick Hayley couldn't feel the heat of his body anymore. All she could smell was the sharp, clean scent of his body wash clinging to the silk robe.

Edward carried her out of the sitting room and toward the spiral staircase that led to the main living area. His face was a mask of cold fury.

Faint sounds drifted up from the lower level. The obnoxious laugh track of a reality TV show and the sound of someone chewing loudly.

Edward's eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. He adjusted his grip on Hayley and began to descend the stairs. His bare feet made absolutely no sound on the steps. He moved like a panther stalking its prey.

Hayley lay stiff in his arms. The system pinged a low warning in her head. Someone was about to die.

As they reached the bottom of the stairs, the living room came into full view.

Brenda, the night nanny, was sprawled across the white sofa. Her feet were propped up on the table, and she was digging her hand into a large bag of potato chips, laughing at the television.

Edward stopped on the final step.

"Enjoying the show?"

His voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the noise of the TV like a razor blade.

Brenda whipped her head around. The bag of chips slipped from her hands, spilling across the floor. All the blood drained from her face, leaving her pale and trembling.