Reborn To Ruin Her: The Billionaire's Accidental Heiress

The last time I saw my sister, Tiffany, she shoved me in front of a semi-truck. Now, I' m back, reborn, watching her try to drug the ruthless Vegas magnate, Damian Blackwood. This time, I didn't stop her. I even helped, booking the penthouse, just so I could finally watch her crash and burn.

But when Damian' s men seized me, not Tiffany, my meticulously crafted revenge plot shattered. He thought I was her, Mistook my unique birthmark for hers, and exacted a terrifying "punishment" that left me pregnant. I was desperate to escape Tiffany's disaster, only to realize I was now trapped in my own.

As Tiffany' s delusional claims of marriage and a fake pregnancy spiraled into a lawsuit from Blackwood, I discovered my own terrifying secret. Moments after realizing I was truly pregnant and my life was ruined, Damian' s chief of staff approached me not as an accomplice, but with a question. Then, a revelation: my birthmark was the key to my true identity. I wasn't Chloe, the family failure, but Chloe Van Astor-the long-lost heiress of a rival dynasty, betrothed to Damian from birth.

My tormenting "parents" and Tiffany were arrested for kidnapping and fraud, their cruel charade exposed. Damian, the man who nearly destroyed me, emerged as my destined partner. Now, he' s sealed off the Las Vegas Strip, making a public spectacle of his proposal, ready to claim me and our unborn child. My past is over. My real life, as Mrs. Blackwood, begins now.

The last time I saw this gaudy Las Vegas ballroom, I was trying to stop my sister Tiffany from drugging Damian Blackwood.

She screamed that I ruined her life.

Then she pushed me in front of a semi-truck on the I-15.

I remember the screech of tires, the blinding headlights, and then... nothing.

Now, I' m back. Reborn. Standing in the same spot, watching the same scene unfold.

Tiffany, my older sister, looks ridiculous in a tight, sequined dress she can' t afford. She' s the golden child, the one our parents pinned all their hopes on.

I' m Chloe, the younger sister, the cynical waitress who works double shifts at a greasy spoon diner to pay their gambling debts. The family failure.

"Chloe, are you even listening?" Tiffany hisses, snapping her fingers in my face. "This is my one shot. Damian Blackwood. He' s the Prince of the Strip. Once I have him, we' re set for life. Mom and Dad can finally get out of that dump."

She shoves a champagne flute into my hand. It' s spiked. I can smell the bitter, chemical tang mixed with the cheap bubbles. In my past life, I knocked it out of her hand.

This time, I don' t.

I take the glass.

"What about the hotel room?" she asks, her eyes scanning the crowd for her target.

"Booked," I say, my voice flat. "Penthouse suite. Blackwood flagship hotel. Your name."

She beams, a greedy, triumphant smile. "See? You' re not completely useless. Now, go stand by the terrace doors. Be my lookout. And try not to look like a diner rat who crawled out of a sewer."

I nod, turning away before she can see the cold smile on my own face.

I' m not going to stop her this time.

I' m going to help her.

I want to watch her crash and burn.

I stand by the terrace doors, my back to the party. The desert air is cool on my skin. I watch the endless stream of luxury cars on the Strip below.

Tiffany thinks I' m watching for her. She' s wrong. I' m just waiting.

I give her a subtle "ok" sign when I see Damian Blackwood approaching, a drink in his hand. He' s exactly as the tabloids describe him: tall, dark, and with an aura of untouchable power. His eyes are cold, calculating.

Tiffany intercepts him, all fake smiles and batting eyelashes. She offers him the spiked champagne. I watch as he takes the glass, his eyes briefly flicking in my direction.

My heart gives a small, nervous jump.

He says something to her, then downs the drink in one go.

Tiffany' s face lights up. She did it. She actually did it.

She guides him toward the elevators, shooting me a smug, victorious look over her shoulder. I stay put, my job done. I just need to wait for the inevitable chaos.

I give it ten minutes. Then I head for the exit. I' m halfway across the marble lobby when a hand clamps down on my shoulder.

"Not so fast."

Two men in sharp black suits flank me. They are huge. Damian Blackwood' s security.

"Ms. Tiffany' s plan has a few... complications," one of them says, his voice devoid of emotion. "Mr. Blackwood requests your presence."

Before I can protest, something hard hits the back of my head.

The world goes black.