Reborn, He Still Hated Me

I was Eleanor Baker, the architect who built the Harrington empire from the ground up, designed their iconic skyscrapers, and was destined to marry the heir, James.

Then, on my 65th birthday, James dropped the bomb: he was changing his will, honoring his long-dead first love, Olivia. My life's work, my shares, everything was gone. The betrayal *killed* me.

Only, I opened my eyes in the past. James was there, reborn too, his gaze already holding the cold disgust that would define our future. He still wanted Olivia, who was now alive. So I walked away, giving up everything, only to be ambushed by the press, publicly humiliated, and left bleeding on the street, my heart and my legacy shattered.

How could a lifetime of devotion and building be erased in an instant? Could the man I once loved possibly be so cruel, even in a second chance at life? Was I destined to be nothing more than a discarded architect, overshadowed by a ghost?

But just as I thought it was over, a stranger offered a chance. A visionary project, a new beginning, a path to reclaim my talent and build a future far beyond anything I'd ever imagined. This time, I'm building for myself.

The Harrington family had a plan. I was part of it.

For years, I was Eleanor Baker, the brilliant young architect they'd taken under their wing. The one they'd groomed. The one destined to marry James Harrington, the heir, and merge my talent with their empire.

I loved James. I poured my soul into Harrington Holdings, designing skyscrapers that scraped the New York sky, luxury resorts that dotted coastlines. Our buildings became landmarks. I thought we were building a life.

Then, on my sixty-fifth birthday, James dropped the bomb.

Olivia Morningstar, his first love, dead for forty years, was to be honored. Her portrait would hang in the Harrington family's private gallery, in the central spot. My spot.

He'd already changed his will. After his death, I'd get a token sum. The bulk of my shares, my life's work, would be redistributed.

Our three children, even our grandchildren, stood with him. Their silence was a knife.

The betrayal was a physical force. It crushed my chest. I remember gasping, a searing pain, then darkness.

I died.

Then, I opened my eyes.

I was in the grand dining room of the Harrington estate. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows.

Old Mr. Harrington, Alistair, sat at the head of the table, his expression serious. "James, you're not getting any younger. It's time to make a decision. Who will be your Chief Designer, your partner?"

Mrs. Harrington, Catherine, smiled warmly. "I bet my son picks Eleanor. He's always been so fond of her."

Everyone knew I was the chosen one. My designs, my dedication, far outshone any competitor.

But this time, James Harrington looked at me.

His eyes.

They were cold. Filled with a deep, biting disgust. A hatred I wouldn't see for another four decades in my previous life.

He remembered. He was reborn too.

My heart, which had just restarted, felt a familiar ache.

So, he still yearned for Olivia. Fine. I would grant him his wish.

"Mr. Harrington," I said, my voice surprisingly steady. I stood up.

Everyone stared.

"Eleanor, dear, what is it?" Catherine asked, her smile faltering.

"I believe I am not qualified for the Chief Designer role," I stated. "My vision may not align with the future of Harrington Holdings. And I think James should choose a partner he truly connects with."

I paused, looking directly at James. "I withdraw my name from consideration."

James froze. Just for a second. A flicker of shock in those cold eyes, quickly masked.

Then, pure ice.

He said nothing. He pushed his chair back, stood, and walked out of the dining room without a word.

I knew where he was going. Olivia Morningstar. In this timeline, she wasn't a ghost. She was alive. Everything could be different for him.

A bitter smile touched my lips. Decades of marriage, a lifetime of devotion, all smoke and mirrors.

"Eleanor, what are you saying?" Alistair's voice, usually so commanding, was laced with confusion.

I met his gaze. This man, who had once treated me like a daughter, looked lost.

I took a deep breath. "Mr. Harrington, James has his heart set elsewhere. I'm stepping aside."

Alistair and Catherine exchanged bewildered glances. But after James's abrupt departure, they seemed at a loss for words.

I excused myself and went to my suite to pack. I was leaving.

The next morning, my phone buzzed with notifications. Social media, gossip sites, all blaring the same headline: "James Harrington Steps Out with Mysterious Beauty Olivia Morningstar!"

The photos showed Olivia, radiant and young, nestled in James's arm. He held her tight, his eyes soft, adoring.

I swiped them away, my face blank.

Around noon, a commotion erupted downstairs.

I went to the window. James was escorting Olivia through the main entrance of the Harrington estate, his arm possessively around her waist.

A few minutes later, shouting echoed from Alistair's study.

James's voice, sharp and demanding. "Dad! I told you, I've chosen Olivia! Why is Eleanor still listed as lead architect on the new City Center project?"

Alistair's voice was calmer, trying to reason. "James, Eleanor has been spearheading the City Center development for two years. Changing lead architects now will spook the investors, it could damage the stock."

"I don't care!" James snapped. "I've made my decision. Olivia is the future of Harrington Holdings by my side. Are you going to trust an outsider over your own son's choice?"

The City Center project was Harrington Holdings' flagship venture. A multi-billion dollar mixed-use development meant to redefine a whole district. In my previous life, my design for it had won international acclaim, catapulting the company to new heights and cementing my legacy.

James knew its importance.

A few minutes later, the housekeeper, Mrs. Davies, knocked on my door. "Ms. Baker, Mr. Harrington Sr. would like to see you in the study."

Alistair sat behind his massive mahogany desk, looking tired. He gestured for me to sit. His fingers drummed a restless rhythm on the polished wood.

"Eleanor, we need to discuss something."

"There's no need, Mr. Harrington," I interrupted, my voice even. "I understand."

He looked up, a flash of surprise in his eyes, then deep regret. For years, he'd championed me, mentored me. But now, faced with his son's ultimatum, his hands were tied. He was nearing retirement; the company needed a clear successor.

Alistair sighed. "The City Center project... you've poured so much into it. It's not right to pull you off it."

"But James is insistent," I finished for him. "He's stubborn. More than you, sometimes."

I nodded. "I understand, Mr. Harrington."

I reached into my bag and pulled out a large portfolio and a sleek, platinum fountain pen. I placed them on the desk.

"This portfolio contains all the blueprints, design specifications, digital models, and contact lists for the City Center project. The passwords for the encrypted files are ones James already knows."

Alistair stared at the pen. His hand trembled slightly as he reached for it. It was a custom-made Montblanc, a gift from him when I'd first been named a senior designer, engraved with the Harrington crest. It was a symbol, passed down, signifying the head of design at their firm. I'd carried it for over a decade. It had practically become an extension of my hand.

In my past life, it was still in my desk drawer when I died.

He looked at my calm face, words unspoken in his eyes.

I stood up and gave a slight bow. "Mr. Harrington, thank you for everything over the years. I'm very grateful."

The study door burst open. James strode in, Olivia Morningstar clinging to his arm.

"Dad, is it settled?" He didn't even glance at me, heading straight for Alistair.

Alistair nodded wearily, pushing the portfolio and the pen towards James. "Eleanor has agreed to the handover."

Before James could speak, Olivia's eyes lit up. She snatched the platinum pen from the desk, her fingers closing around it possessively. A triumphant, almost greedy glint shone in her eyes.

The sight made Alistair frown slightly.

"Wait," I said suddenly.

James scowled. "Eleanor, don't tell me you're having second thoughts."

I shook my head and pulled a slim, unmarked folder from my bag. "This wasn't in the main portfolio."

I handed it to James. "These are the confidential annexes. The unminuted agreements with the city planning department, the delicate negotiations with the transport authority regarding the subway line reroute, and the specific structural engineering challenges for the cantilevered Sky Garden. Very sensitive."

James took the folder, his brow furrowing as he quickly scanned the first few pages. His frown deepened. These were complex, high-stakes issues. If mishandled, they could derail the entire project, costing Harrington Holdings billions.

"With Olivia's background," I said, my tone neutral, "I'm sure she'll manage these details perfectly."

Olivia's smile tightened almost imperceptibly. She had an art history degree from a small liberal arts college. She knew nothing about large-scale urban development, structural engineering, or navigating New York City's bureaucracy.

"You worry too much, Eleanor," Olivia said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "I'm a fast learner. James will guide me."

I said nothing more. The success of the City Center project had relied on my innovative designs and my knack for smoothing over complex stakeholder issues.