Reborn Into His Regret

My name is Sarah Miller, and I was on top of the world.

Graduating college, a prestigious journalism internship lined up, and madly in love with Ethan Hayes-the powerful, charming heir.

Life was perfect. A fairy tale, really.

Then, at my graduation party, Ethan dimmed the lights.

He projected intimate photos and videos of us onto a giant screen.

My world shattered.

His cruel smile gone, he announced it was all revenge.

My journalist father, he claimed, had ruined his first love, Olivia, with an exposé, leaving her in a vegetative state.

That night, my father died of a heart attack. My mother followed weeks later.

My internship vanished. I was ostracized.

And I was pregnant with Ethan' s child.

Five years later, my daughter Lily developed aggressive leukemia.

Desperate, I became Ethan' s personal assistant, enduring his and Olivia' s endless torture, even sexual exploitation, just to pay for Lily's treatments.

He even desecrated my father' s grave.

How could I have loved such a monster?

How could one man inflict such unending, calculated pain on an innocent family?

I was just a pawn in his twisted game of vengeance, paying for a 'sin' that wasn't even mine.

The humiliation, the despair, the sheer injustice felt suffocating.

With Lily dying, I entered a high-risk medical trial to fund her last hope, fully expecting to die.

And I did.

Then, I woke up.

It was the day before everything went wrong.

And so did Ethan.

My name is Sarah Miller.

I was nineteen.

College was almost over.

I studied journalism.

My future felt bright.

I was in love with Ethan Hayes.

He was a business major.

His family was rich, powerful.

Ethan showed me a world I never knew.

Fancy restaurants, fast cars, endless parties.

He said he loved my adventurous spirit.

He encouraged it.

I felt alive with him.

The night of my college graduation was supposed to be perfect.

I had won a prestigious internship at a national newspaper.

My parents, David and Maria Miller, beamed with pride.

My father was a journalist, a good one.

He taught me about integrity, about truth.

The party was at a fancy hotel ballroom.

Ethan had arranged it all.

He smiled at me, a charming, perfect smile.

Then the lights dimmed.

A projector flickered on.

My heart pounded.

Was this a surprise for me?

Intimate photos of Ethan and me flashed on the huge screen.

Videos.

Personal moments.

Things no one else should ever see.

The room went silent, then whispers started.

Laughter, cruel and sharp.

My face burned.

I wanted to disappear.

Ethan stood beside the screen, a microphone in his hand.

His charming smile was gone.

His eyes were cold.

He looked at my father.

"Mr. Miller," Ethan's voice boomed.

"Your daughter isn't the angel you think. See how wild she is in private?"

He pointed to a photo, a moment where we' d joked about a pregnancy scare.

It wasn't real then.

But the implication hung in the air, ugly and heavy.

My father' s face went pale.

My mother gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.

"This is for Olivia," Ethan said, his voice like ice.

"Olivia Vance. You remember her, don't you, Mr. Miller?"

My father nodded slowly, his eyes wide with dawning horror.

"Years ago, you wrote an exposé," Ethan continued.

"Illegal recruitment, substance abuse in college athletics. It destroyed Olivia's career. She was a star athlete, my first love."

His voice cracked, just for a second.

"She had a public breakdown. She tried to kill herself. She's been in a coma, a vegetative state, ever since. You killed her, Mr. Miller. Your words, your story, they killed the woman I loved."

The room spun.

My internship, the one I was so proud of, was revoked the next day.

The shame was a heavy blanket.

My father, David Miller, couldn't bear it.

The shock, the public disgrace.

He had a massive heart attack that night.

He died.

My mother, Maria, her health already fragile, crumbled.

Grief consumed her.

She passed away within weeks.

I was alone.

Ostracized.

The golden days were shattered glass under my feet.

Soon after, I found out I was pregnant.

Ethan' s child.

A tiny, unwanted echo of a love that had turned into a weapon.

But Lily became my reason to live.

Five years passed.

Five years of scraping by.

Waitressing, cleaning toilets, delivering food.

Anything to keep a roof over Lily' s head, food in her small belly.

Lily. My sweet, observant Lily.

Then, the diagnosis.

A rare, aggressive leukemia.

She needed a bone marrow transplant.

Experimental treatments.

Incredibly expensive.

My world narrowed to one single, desperate focus: save Lily.

I was working as a temp for a high-end catering company.

A charity gala. Rich people, glittering jewels.

I carried a tray of champagne flutes.

My mind was on Lily' s latest blood test results.

I wasn't paying enough attention.

I bumped into a woman.

Drinks spilled.

Champagne soaked her expensive dress.

She shrieked.

"You clumsy idiot! Do you know how much this dress costs?"

Her voice was sharp, full of contempt.

My face burned again, a familiar heat.

I started to apologize, to stammer.

"I'll handle this."

A voice.

Deep, familiar.

A voice I heard in my nightmares.

Ethan Hayes.

He stood there, older, harder, but unmistakably him.

Powerful CEO. Host of the gala.

He didn't look at me.

He didn't acknowledge me at all.

He calmed the furious guest, his voice smooth, authoritative.

Then, he turned to the center of the room.

He raised his glass.

"And now, a special announcement."

He smiled, that charming smile I remembered, the one that hid a monster.

He walked towards a woman seated at a prominent table.

Olivia Vance.

She was awake. Recovered. Beautiful.

Ethan knelt.

He held out a diamond ring.

"Olivia, my love, will you marry me?"

The room erupted in applause.

Olivia' s eyes, bright and possessive, found mine across the room for a fleeting second.

A small, triumphant smirk played on her lips.

This gala, I realized, was partly a celebration of her recovery.

Her awakening from the coma Ethan had blamed my father for.

Ethan spoke again, his voice filled with emotion.

"Olivia's recovery has been a miracle. But she needs ongoing, specialized care. Complications from her long coma, her past trauma. It's very expensive."

He paused, looking directly at Olivia with adoration.

"But I've found a promising, privately funded experimental treatment program for her. Nothing is too much for my Olivia."

My heart sank.

He was moving on, building a future.

While I was trapped, still paying for a past he had orchestrated.

The irony was a bitter pill.

Olivia needed expensive treatment.

Lily needed expensive treatment.

And Ethan, the man who had destroyed my life, held all the cards.

He turned to the catering manager, his voice cold again.

"That waitress," he said, gesturing vaguely in my direction without looking at me. "She' s incompetent. Fire her."

The manager nodded quickly. "Yes, Mr. Hayes."

I stood there, tray still in hand, as my world crumbled a little more.

Lily' s medical bills were mountains I couldn' t climb.

The latest one sat on my worn kitchen table, a stark white reminder of my failure.

She needed this next round of experimental treatment, the doctors said it was her best chance.

But the cost was astronomical.

I saw an advertisement tucked away in the free local paper.

"Participants Needed for High-Risk Medical Research Study. Generous Compensation."

High-risk.

The words echoed in my mind.

But the payout listed... it was exactly what I needed for Lily.

Exactly.

I called the number.

I went to the clinic.

I signed the consent forms.

The doctor, a tired-looking man, explained the potential severe side effects.

Organ damage.

Neurological issues.

Even death.

I nodded, my hand surprisingly steady as I signed my name.

Sarah Miller.

For Lily. Anything for Lily.

The catering manager found me after the gala.

"Mr. Hayes was very clear," he said, avoiding my eyes. "You're fired."

I didn't argue.

What was the point?

Ethan' s friend, a smirking man I vaguely remembered from college, walked past.

He looked me up and down.

"Still falling on your face, Miller?" he sneered.

Ethan stood nearby, talking to Olivia.

He glanced over, his expression cold, distant.

He confirmed his order to the manager.

"She's a liability. Get rid of her."

I couldn't lose this. Even the few hours a week mattered.

I approached Ethan. Olivia was clinging to his arm, looking frail and lovely.

"Mr. Hayes, please," I begged, my voice low. "I need this job. Desperately."

Ethan looked at me then, truly looked at me.

No recognition. Just disdain.

A cruel glint appeared in his eyes.

"The catering job is gone," he said, his voice flat.

He paused.

"However, Olivia needs a dedicated personal assistant. A carer. Her health is very delicate post-coma."

He looked at Olivia, his expression softening instantly.

"The pay is... substantial. It would cover your needs, I imagine."

He pulled out a sleek business card.

"Think about it."

He didn't wait for an answer. He turned back to Olivia.

Humiliation washed over me. Again.

He knew. He had to know I was desperate.

I went to the hospital.

Lily was asleep, her small face pale against the white pillow.

Her favorite teddy bear was tucked beside her.

A little girl in the next bed, her head bald from chemo, was drawing.

Lily stirred.

"Mommy?"

"I'm here, sweetie."

She smiled, a weak but precious smile.

"Mommy, Emily in the next room, her mommy said she went to heaven."

My heart clenched.

"She said it's nice there. And she doesn't have to have needles anymore."

Lily' s eyes, too old for her five years, looked into mine.

"If I go to heaven, Mommy, you won't have to work so hard. You won't be sad about money."

Tears pricked my eyes.

I hugged her tiny, fragile body.

"Don't say that, Lily. You're not going anywhere. Mommy will make sure of it."

Her words, so innocent, so heartbreaking, solidified my resolve.

I pulled out Ethan' s card.

My fingers trembled as I dialed his number.

"Mr. Hayes," I said, my voice hollow. "I'll take the job."

The next day, I stood outside Ethan's penthouse apartment.

The doorman announced me.

The elevator ascended silently, smoothly, to a world of unimaginable luxury.

Ethan opened the door.

He was dressed casually, but still exuded power.

Olivia was on the sofa, wrapped in a cashmere blanket.

She looked up, a small, sweet smile on her face.

"Sarah, so glad you could make it," she said, her voice soft, almost childlike.

Ethan put his arm around her.

"Sarah will be taking care of you, my love," he said to Olivia. "You just focus on getting stronger."

He looked at me.

"Your duties are simple. Attend to Ms. Vance's every need. Medication reminders, companionship, light assistance. Be discreet. Be efficient."

His eyes were unreadable.

He kissed Olivia' s forehead.

"I have to go to the office. Be good, both of you."

The door clicked shut behind him.

Olivia' s sweet smile vanished.

Her eyes hardened.

She stood up, the blanket falling away. She looked stronger than she had pretended.

She walked towards me.

And slapped me.

Hard.

Across the face.

The sting was sharp, shocking.

"Welcome to hell, Sarah," she said, her voice no longer soft. It was laced with venom.