Reborn Heiress: The CEO's Fierce Little Wife

Today was supposed to be the big day-Ethan, heir of the Carter Group, was getting engaged to Faye Hawthorne, the heiress of Hawthorne Jewelry. A match made in Leston's elite circles. Two top jewelry houses joining forces.

Inside the Hawthorne estate-

"Mara, follow my lead later. Whether we make it or not depends on tonight," Ethan murmured, his low, husky voice carrying a dangerous charm.

"Mhm. I know... I've had to put up with her for years; as long as she's dead, I'm finally free from her shadow, and nothing will get in the way of us anymore... Ethan, I love you so much," Mara whispered sweetly, though her voice dripped with poison.

"Good girl. I love you, too."

...

Outside the door, Faye stood frozen, trembling all over. She bit her lip hard.

Through the gap in the slightly open door, she could see them tangled together-clothes a mess, utterly shameless.

Inside, the two entangled figures were none other than her fiancé and her step-sister-someone she'd loved and protected like family.

From their childhood, she'd given Mara the best of everything, never hesitating to share anything good with her.

And Ethan... he was the one man she had ever truly loved.

But now, these two people she loved the most were not only cheating on her-they were planning to murder her.

Faye felt dizzy, her vision spinning. She staggered back a few steps.

The sharp click of her heels echoed too loud and caught their attention. Ethan sprang to the door, yanked it open-

There she was, pale as a ghost, barely able to stand as she clung to the wall.

He froze for a second before a cold, almost excited grin crept onto his handsome face. "So, you heard everything."

Faye's face drained of color. Staring at Ethan with his untucked shirt and undone buttons, her stomach twisted in disgust. That image of him with Mara burned in her head, making her almost forget they just talked about killing her.

"And yet you... How could you- I... I'm going to tell Grandpa. I want justice!"

Panicked, she turned to run.

But Ethan was faster. He grabbed her arm in a flash.

Faye flinched like she'd been shocked and yanked herself away, her whole body tense, hands up in a protective stance.

"Faye, that self-defense crap? I taught you everything you know. You honestly think you can fight me?" Ethan sneered, his tone mocking as he stepped toward her, each step exuding killing intent.

Faye's grandpa, Gerald Hawthorne, and her parents were already hosting guests at the hotel.

All the other house staff were off, and even the butler and the remaining helpers had been sent away under some excuse.

Tonight, Faye Hawthorne had to die.

She kept backing up, cold sweat pouring down her face as she stared into Ethan's eyes-eyes full of murder.

He seemed to sense she was trying to escape, and with zero hesitation, moved at her, fast and ruthless.

Faye barely managed to hold on for a few moves before Ethan Carter pinned her arm behind her back. The sudden twist sent a jolt of pain through her, cold sweat instantly breaking out all over her body.

She twisted her body, shaking off his grip, then swung a sharp kick straight at his lower half without hesitation.

Gaining a bit of distance, she quickly and cautiously backed toward the staircase, eyes locked on Ethan's cold, hostile expression, every nerve tense.

But the moment her foot touched the top step, a hard shove hit her from behind.

"Aah-!"

Her scream sliced through the silence of the mansion like a knife.

She tumbled down the marble steps, body flipping over again and again until she landed in a pool of blood at the bottom.

Her pale face was streaked with red, making her look like some twisted, tragic painting.

Eyes wide with shock and rage, she stared up at Mara Hawthorne standing at the top, looking back at her with undeniable satisfaction. Faye tried to move, to stand, but her limbs refused. The pain spread through every inch of her body-it was like her bones had shattered.

Ethan descended the stairs slowly, Mara on his arm. They stopped beside her, Ethan towering over Faye as she lay on the floor, a broken mess.

He smirked cruelly. "Well, looks like this much-anticipated engagement party just became your funeral."

Mara leaned into him, lips curling in smug delight. "Our little coming-of-age gift for you, sis. Like it?"

Rage burned through Faye. She coughed up blood, struggling to get to her feet. "I'm taking you two down with me... even if I have to claw my way back from hell."

Ethan sneered. "So naive." And with that, he stepped down hard on her shoulder, pinning her in place.

Faye gasped, unable to breathe as wave after wave of pain crashed through her. The betrayal stung nearly as much as her shattered body, twisting inside her like a knife.

"Ethan, you look so hot like this. Just finish her already," Mara cooed, feigning innocence while giving him a push.

Once Faye was out of the picture, everything the Hawthornes had built would be in Mara's hands.

Without mercy, Ethan yanked Faye by the hair and slammed her head hard onto the marble floor.

No one would doubt she died from the fall-it was easy to cover up the rest. After all, the ones who killed her were the people closest to her.

Bloodied and breathing raggedly, Faye stared at them with pure hate, clinging to Mara's dress with the last of her strength. Cold tears trailing from her eyes, she hissed through gritted teeth, "Ethan... Mara... even if I become a ghost, I'll crawl out of hell to drag you both down with me..."

Pfft.

A wet sound escaped her lips. Her final words were followed by a violent burst of blood that splattered across the floor.

What a damn joke.

She had trusted them, loved them, given them everything. And this-this was how it ended?

If she ever got the chance to live again, she'd drag those two monsters to hell herself-before they even had the chance to look her way.

Because if kindness only brought her this?

Then next time, she'd be the devil they feared.

Inside a high-end hospital room.

A young girl lay unconscious on the bed. Her brows were tightly knit, her pale, delicate face clouded with pain. A thin sheen of sweat formed on her forehead-clearly caught in some nightmare or discomfort.

"Doctor, when will my granddaughter wake up?" An old man's anxious voice cut through the air.

Suddenly, the girl's eyes snapped open.

Faye was momentarily stunned by the sharp smell of disinfectant. Her eyes darted around the room-it was clearly a hospital, packed with medical equipment.

Faye pinched her thigh hard in disbelief. The sharp jolt of pain told her loud and clear-this wasn't a dream.

She wasn't dead.

Her hands clenched into fists. She was too shaken to say a word. But just the thought of Mara and Ethan made every nerve in her body twitch and scream. The pain nearly stole her breath.

Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears as a wave of hatred crashed inside her.

"Cassandra, Cassandra, you're awake!" The old man's voice trembled with joy as he grabbed her hand tightly, his kind face overcome with emotion.

Faye stared blankly at the unfamiliar but gentle man. Confused, she mumbled, "...Who are you?"

The old man froze, then said gently, "Cassandra, I'm your grandpa."

Faye's brows furrowed even deeper. Cassandra? Was he talking to her? That name wasn't hers. She grew instantly alert, her guard back up.

"What are you talking about? I'm Faye, the eldest daughter of the Hawthorne family. And who exactly are you? Why are you here?" Her tone sharpened with suspicion and a bit of that natural haughtiness she'd always carried.

Panicking, Alexander Taylor quickly called the doctor.

The medical explanation? A head injury during a car accident had caused a concussion-temporary memory confusion or brief amnesia was expected.

Hearing that, the old man calmed himself and tried explaining, "Cassandra, the doctor said the crash affected your memory. You might be mixing up time or names, but it'll pass. You're Cassandra Taylor, daughter of the Taylor Group. I'm your grandpa. As for Faye... heard she fell down the stairs yesterday. Didn't make it."

Faye sat frozen, mind in chaos.

She was... Cassandra?

Faye... died yesterday?

What the hell was going on?

"...I... I'm a little tired." Her voice barely more than a whisper, her face pale and shaken.

Alexander gave her a comforting nod, said a few gentle words, then quietly left the room, thinking she needed rest.

The second he was gone, Faye yanked out the IV from her hand and leapt from the bed, rushing into the bathroom.

She stood before the mirror, her fingers tracing the features staring back. Beautiful, but completely foreign. Her skin still looked a bit sickly, but her facial features... long, sleek eyebrows, deep star-like eyes, a straight nose, and glossy pink lips that curved slightly at the corners.

Not her face. Not remotely.

A few seconds of stunned silence.

Then-

"Haha... Mara, Ethan, you two never saw this coming, huh?" Faye held her face with both hands, tears running down her cheeks as laughter spilled out-high, shaky, packed with rage and grief and something close to wild relief.

Reincarnation? Possession? She didn't care what to call it.

Since the universe handed her a second shot, she'd use this new body, this new face-everything-to drag those lying scumbags straight to hell.

After calming down, flashes of unfamiliar memories zipped through her mind. To Faye's surprise, she realized she actually had this body's memories.

This body belonged to a girl named Cassandra. She was the heiress of the Taylor Corporation, just two months away from turning eighteen, and had been diagnosed with autism.

Her father was the president of the Taylor Group. Her mother had died during childbirth while delivering her younger brother. The elderly man from earlier was her grandfather.

Then there was her five-year-old brother, Zion Taylor, and and a bunch of other extended family...

The next morning-

When Alexander came to the hospital with little Zion, Cassandra instantly told him she wanted to attend Faye's funeral.

She wanted one last look at the body that had been hers for eighteen years.

And also, she wanted to send a clear warning to the two who betrayed her. Instead of launching a sudden attack, she preferred a slow burn, letting her enemies die in their own nightmares.

When Cassandra arrived at the church wearing a floor-length crimson gown, the head of security was instantly on edge. Thinking she was here to stir trouble, he warned her to leave or he'd call the cops.

But she wasn't panicking-she already had a plan on her way over.

She turned to ask the driver for a phone when a sleek silver Spyker C8 suddenly roared up like a phantom.

In just a few seconds, it came to a smooth stop right next to her.

Her curiosity got the better of her and she glanced over just as the back door opened. A pair of glossy, high-end leather shoes stepped out of the car, followed by a tall man clad in a custom-tailored black suit and a striking mask. In his arms, he held a bouquet of red spider lilies wrapped elegantly.

The red spider lily-flower of the underworld, the demon's grace.

Even without seeing his face, she could feel the power and grace rolling off him. He wasn't your average guy-he carried the presence of someone used to command.

The masked man turned toward her, his voice clear and cold. "Miss, you need to leave. If you're here to cause trouble, I'll gladly put you six feet under with her."

His baritone voice carried a hint of British refinement, but what really came through was the chill-it was like being dragged into a freezing abyss.

The head of security's tone did a complete 180 after glancing at the card the man handed over. He hurriedly bowed and invited him in.

Cassandra knew she didn't owe him any explanations, but something made her speak up. Her voice trembled, eyes glistening with tears as she said to his retreating back, "Faye loved red more than anything. She hated the lifelessness of black-and-white. I know this dress might look disrespectful to some, but I swear it's not meant that way. I wasn't here to crash her funeral. This is her final journey. As her best friend... I just wanted to add a splash of the color she loved most."

The words left her in a rush, and after that, the tears she'd held back finally tumbled down.

What could be more ironic than this-she was alive, attending her own funeral, burying her own body.

And the people who killed her? They were out there, living it up.

The man stopped when he heard her. He turned, staring at her silently.

So, Faye-little liar that she was-had a friend like this?

After a long pause, his voice, though still cold, broke the silence: "Let her in."