Reborn: Second Chance with the Scheming Tycoon

The piercing, bone-deep pain nearly caused Amelia Johnson to black out.

Sabrina Johnson gripped a fruit knife, slashing Amelia's face over and over until it was a bloody, unrecognizable mess.

Today, it was her half-sister, Sabrina, who had lured her here. Here, Amelia had witnessed with her own eyes the intimate entanglement between her fiancé, Ethan Collins, and Sabrina on a bed.

Ethan, far from showing any guilt, even spat insults at her, calling her two-faced.

"If it weren't for you, Ethan would've married me ages ago. Blame yourself for coming back! Why couldn't you stay a country bumpkin where you belong? Trying to fight me for the family inheritance? What a joke!" Sabrina's gaze burned with malice as she glared at Amelia.

With tape tightly sealing her mouth, Amelia could only let out muffled cries. Tears mixed with fresh blood streamed down her cheeks.

"What's the matter? Want to talk? Too bad, I won't let you," Sabrina sneered, tapping the knife against Amelia's cheek with deliberate cruelty. "Just keep all your last words bottled up inside."

"My dear sister, you're really something, aren't you? Even after my mom dumped you in the wild when you were little, you still managed to be picked up and raised by someone. But this time? This time, you're finished!" Sabrina cackled, her grin twisted and vicious.

Then, without hesitation, she shoved Amelia off the balcony.

Amelia plummeted from the 27th floor like a severed kite. Bones shattered on impact, and her body was mangled beyond recognition in a spray of blood.

Her eyes remained wide open, her crimson irises brimming with despair and sheer unwillingness.

As life escaped her, only one thought consumed her mind: if there was another chance, she'd make Sabrina repay every single thing a hundredfold!

*****

Amelia's head buzzed as she slowly opened her eyes. In front of her, two blurry figures seemed to loom closer.

"Hey, Bro, check this chick out," the shorter man muttered, practically drooling as he fumbled in his pockets. "Damn it, forgot my phone. Let me borrow yours. Gotta snap a couple of fire photos of this little beauty."

The taller man dug into his jacket, only to curse under his breath. "Crap, left mine in the car. I'll grab it now. Don't touch her while I'm gone. We agreed I'm first in line."

As Amelia's vision cleared, the sight of the two scumbags became all too familiar. How could she ever forget? Just three months ago, on her birthday, Sabrina had drugged her drink.

These two men had been Sabrina's pawns, sent specifically to defile her. However, Amelia had fought with everything she had, and they'd backed off, fearing the consequences of things spiraling out of control. Still, they'd taken a few compromising photos before leaving.

But these weren't just any photos. No, they were suggestive and explicit enough to insinuate things that had never happened. Anyone who saw those images could easily assume what went down between her and the two men.

Before long, those incriminating shots had ended up in Ethan's hands.

The scene unfolding now was an exact replay of that night.

On the television playing nearby, a news broadcast displayed the date-it was her birthday, the very same day!

Fate itself had intervened-she had returned, reborn!

The surge of joy was indescribable.

This time around, she wouldn't allow herself to suffer the same fate. Amelia vowed to make Sabrina and every one of her tormentors taste the full weight of their karma!

At that moment, the taller man stepped out, leaving the shorter one in the bathroom. This was her chance to escape.

Amelia stumbled off the bed, her legs unsteady, and rushed out of the room in a panic.

She knew running aimlessly wouldn't save her. She needed to find somewhere to hide. Just as panic began gnawing at her, she spotted an open door to the side and darted inside, slamming into something solid-solid and warm.

It was a man.

Amelia clung to him like a lifeline. "Someone's after me! Please, help me!"

Damien Taylor frowned, intending to shove her away. But as soon as he got a proper look at her face, he hesitated.

In a swift move, he closed the door behind her. "You're safe now."

"Thank you..." Amelia muttered weakly, her head spinning. She could barely stand on her feet, and the next second, she was falling.

Damien instinctively reached out, catching her slim waist, and she collapsed against him.

The faint, sweet scent of her enveloped him, momentarily dazing him.

Carrying her in his arms, he placed her gently on the bed. When he tried to pull away, she suddenly gripped his neck, holding him close.

To his surprise, instead of feeling annoyed, something unfamiliar stirred within him.

"I'm burning up... Please... help me..." Amelia mumbled, her voice laced with unbearable heat.

Damien's brows furrowed. She'd been drugged?

Lifting her once again, he brought her to the bathroom and turned on the shower.

Cold water cascaded over Amelia, but even icy torrents couldn't quench the fire raging inside her. She squirmed, visibly in agony.

Her partly shut eyes searched blindly, and her hands flailed until they grabbed onto his arm. She clung tightly to him as if he were her anchor.

"Help... me..." she whined, pressing her burning face against him.

Damien leaned down, trying to keep his balance, but his foot slipped, causing him to tumble into the tub.

He steadied himself by propping his arms on either side of her, ensuring he didn't crush her under his weight.

Amelia wrapped her arms around him, nestling against his chest. "This feels... better."

Grabbing her restless hands, Damien's voice dipped into a gravelly murmur. "Stop moving, or you'll really start something dangerous."

"Ouch..." Amelia groaned, forcing her eyes open.

Damien immediately released her, but in a sudden, impulsive move, Amelia threw her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his.

It was her first kiss-clumsy, unpracticed, almost innocent.

What Damien didn't expect was that it was his first, too. The moment their lips met, a raw, unfamiliar heat surged through him. His mind went blank for a second before instinct took over, and he deepened the kiss.

Just as passion began to override reason, Damien pulled back abruptly.

He was breathing heavily. What the hell was that?

He'd always prided himself on his self-control. Since when did he lose his composure like this?

He quickly called a female attendant to help Amelia shower and change.

About fifteen minutes later, Amelia had dozed off again, now dressed in dry clothes.

When she woke, the first person she saw was Damien.

She stared, wide-eyed and disoriented.

"Relax, I'm not going to hurt you," Damien said calmly from the sofa. Outwardly, he looked composed, but inside, he was still reeling-though he hid it well.

Then Amelia remembered-this man had saved her. She sat up, sincere gratitude in her voice. "Thank you."

Damien gave a slight nod. "It was nothing."

It was only then that she really took in his appearance-he was breathtakingly handsome, like someone who'd stepped out of a dream. Honestly, he was the most striking man she'd ever seen, with an aura that was both cool and compelling.

Amelia slipped off the bed and walked over, extending her hand. "I'm Amelia Johnson."

"Damien Taylor," he replied after a brief pause, shaking her hand.

That electric sensation returned-intense and heart-jolting.

Amelia checked the time, then picked up a pen and wrote a number on the notepad. "Mr. Taylor, here's my number. Let me treat you to dinner sometime-you choose when and where."

He nodded. "I'll keep that in mind."

Amelia smiled. "Then I'll be going now." She was in a hurry to get home.

Damien stood up. "It's not safe for you to go alone at this hour. I'll drive you."

"Thank you," Amelia agreed without hesitation. Strangely, she felt she could trust him-perhaps because he'd already helped her once.

But when she saw his car, she froze. That sleek black sports car-the "Black Feather"-was one of a kind worldwide. She never expected it to be his.

If she remembered correctly, this car belonged to the legendary Master Taylor himself.

Could the man beside her really be... that ruthless, untouchable second son of the Taylor family everyone in the capital feared?

Looking back, she'd been so blinded by Ethan in her past life that she'd ignored everything else. Otherwise, she would have recognized Damien immediately.

Just then, Damien opened the car door for her.

"Thank you," Amelia said, swallowing nervously as she got in.

After a moment of silence, she couldn't resist asking, "Mr. Taylor, do you have any siblings?"

"An older brother and a younger one," he replied casually. "Why?"

So he really is the second son... Then he must be that Master Taylor.

Amelia forced an awkward smile. "Nothing, I just thought... with looks like yours, it'd be a shame if your parents hadn't had more children."

What were the odds? Of all people, she'd been saved by Damien himself.

What a night.

Just before she got out of the car, Damien glanced at her. "Miss Johnson, may I ask a favor?"

"Of course!" Amelia agreed without hesitation-he'd helped her greatly, so it was only right to return the kindness.

She was also curious-what could someone like Master Taylor possibly need from her?

"There's a banquet tomorrow night. I need a plus-one." As he spoke, he handed her an invitation.

Amelia took it, and her eyes lit up. That banquet. This could be interesting!

"No problem. I'll be there."

But wait... Surely he had plenty of socialites eager to accompany him. Why choose her?

As the thought crossed her mind, Damien suddenly leaned in closer...

Amelia jumped slightly, only to realize Damien was simply unbuckling her seatbelt.

He carried a subtle, masculine scent-a mix of light cologne and something uniquely his.

"Thank you, Mr. Taylor. I'll go in now," she said, trying to ignore the sudden flutter in her chest.

Once she stepped out, Damien didn't drive off immediately.

He watched as Amelia approached a villa-but instead of using the front door, she climbed deftly onto the balcony.

Just then, his phone vibrated.

"Sir, the two men have been dealt with. What's next?"

"Hand them over to the police," Damien replied coldly.

"One issue... one of them didn't make it."

"Did you get any information from them?" Damien pressed sharply.

"We... didn't have the chance."

He had intended to interrogate them about who was behind the attack on Amelia, but his men had been overzealous.

Hanging up, he rubbed his temples in frustration.

*****

Inside, Amelia had already slipped through the balcony into her bedroom and changed into pajamas.

Lying in bed, memories of that horrific day from her past life flooded back.

Back then, Sabrina had lied, telling her Ethan was waiting at his apartment. Overjoyed, she rushed over-only to find Sabrina in bed with Ethan.

She had completely lost control.

Ethan looked at her with contempt. "Playing the innocent victim? Who are you trying to fool?"

Sabrina asked Ethan to leave, claiming she would persuade Amelia not to break off the engagement.

The moment he was gone, Sabrina dropped the act. Smirking triumphantly, she said, "Those scandalous photos from your birthday? Ethan has seen them. And just five minutes ago, I posted them online-congratulations, you're about to go viral. Haha..."

That was when Amelia finally saw Sabrina for the manipulative snake she was. But even then, she never imagined Sabrina would go as far as murder.

Sabrina drugged her, slashed her face repeatedly, and pushed her from the 27th floor. She didn't just want Ethan-she wanted Amelia ruined, all for the Johnson family fortune.

Sabrina had schemed ruthlessly, but she could never have anticipated one thing: Amelia had been reborn.

Now, with a second chance, Amelia wasn't going to waste it. Just wait, Sabrina-your reckoning is coming.

If her memory was correct, Sabrina would call in about ten minutes.

Right on cue, her phone lit up.

The moment she answered, Sabrina's voice oozed fake concern: "Sis, where are you? Why aren't you home yet?"

Amelia answered in a groggy, sleep-filled voice: "Sabrina? Did you dial wrong? I'm asleep."

Downstairs in the Johnson living room, Sabrina had put the call on speaker. Richard Johnson and Grace Williams sat on the couch nearby.

Sabrina adopted a guilty, tearful tone: "Sis, it's all my fault-I shouldn't have taken you out to celebrate your birthday without telling Mom and Dad. You drank too much and disappeared... Please come home! Mom and Dad are worried sick!"

Amelia yawned lazily: "But I'm already in bed."

Sabrina sounded on the verge of tears: "Sis, stop joking... Where are you really?"

Amelia replied, feigning confusion: "What do you mean? I'm at home. Sabrina, are you okay? Did you drink too much?"

Richard's angry voice cut in: "Amelia! You're the one who sounds drunk. Get home now-ten minutes!"

Grace added with false warmth: "Amelia, we're really worried. We're all waiting for you in the living room."

Amelia smirked coldly. Worried? Please. That stepmother-and-daughter duo only knew how to play the innocent victims. Her father? Always took their side without question.

"Sis, say something!" Sabrina pressed-certain Amelia was lying and eager to expose her.

Just then, Amelia's voice came from the top of the stairs. She looked genuinely puzzled: "Sabrina, what are you talking about?"

Sabrina turned and froze. Amelia was walking down the stairs.

But that was impossible-wasn't she supposed to be unconscious in a hotel? How was she home?!