Reborn Vengeful Heiress: Married to the Cold Tycoon

Freya Livingston woke up to icy metal beneath her back and a dozen strangers in white coats staring down at her.

The fluorescent lights above buzzed.

Her vision blurred.

Her heart raced.

One doctor stepped forward, brows furrowed. "Miss Livingston, a kidney transplant is a delicate procedure," he said, voice cold and clinical. "One wrong move, and it could fail. So please... cooperate."

"Cooperate?" Freya blinked, dazed for a second. Then it all came rushing back-Victor Carlton, that heartless bastard, had forced her into giving up one of her kidneys for his precious Fiona Livingston.

But why should she go along with it? They were about to cut out a piece of her body while she was still breathing.

A nurse pushed forward with a tray full of shiny surgical tools, inching it closer to the lead surgeon.

Out of nowhere, Freya found herself bursting off the table. She grabbed one of the gleaming scalpels and pointed it at them, yelling, "Back off! All of you-get away from me!"

A surgical knife could slice through flesh like butter-no one in the room knew that better than the medical staff. And right now, no one dared to get close to this clearly unhinged woman.

Freya held the scalpel tight as she bolted toward the door. The moment she flung it open, she spotted Victor waiting outside, pacing with a worried frown. But the second he saw it was her, that concern vanished-replaced by fury.

"Freya, what the hell are you doing?" he snapped. "The surgery's about to start! Fiona's in there waiting for your kidney, and you-"

He finally noticed the blade in her hand, freezing mid-sentence before reaching toward her. "Put that down. Now, Freya."

Freya let out a laugh-sharp, bitter, full of fury. Tears streamed down her face as she shouted, "Put it down? Are you kidding me?! Victor, what gives you the right to think I'd save that woman? Let me tell you, I'd rather die-slice my own kidney to shreds-than hand it over to that bitch."

As she spoke, she raised the knife and drove it into her own side with brutal force-again and again, right where her kidney should be. The searing pain hit her like a tidal wave, almost knocking her out cold, but even then, she laughed. Watching Victor's face twist from shock to sheer horror actually made her feel... satisfied.

The pain made it nearly impossible to get the words out, but that didn't stop her from cursing them with all her might. "Victor, I curse you and Fiona-you both deserve nothing but suffering. No happiness for the rest of your lives. May you be bound in misery for eternity. I'll come back as a ghost and haunt you both every single night..."

Her voice-sharp and savage-echoed in Victor's ears like a curse carved into bone. He'd never imagined a woman could be this ruthless.

Blood pooled at her feet, winding like a crimson river across the sterile floor.

And yet... she laughed.

Laughed, with her lips stretched into a broken smile, her teeth still white against all that red. Every word she uttered was a curse. A vow.

And it was meant for him.

*****

The pain... it was unbearable.

Freya trembled from it, her whole body twitching. She forced her eyes open, wanting just one last look at Victor's panicked expression. That alone would make all this pain worth it.

But when she opened her eyes again, what she saw wasn't him.

She found herself in a new bedroom. The air was sickly sweet with perfume, and the place was covered in stuffed animals and soft pink decor.

'Where the hell was I? Why was I even here?!'

Still shaking from the confusion, she reached for the spot where she had stabbed herself. Nothing. No wounds, no bandages-her skin was smooth, unbroken. And... was her waist this tiny before?

Her hand moved to her cheek. Smooth as porcelain. No chubbiness, not even a blemish. Her face seemed more defined too-was that a pointed chin?

This didn't make sense. She had always gained weight easily, her whole life a battle with the scale. Victor had despised her weight-it was one of the reasons he turned away.

Disbelieving, she touched her waist and her face again. Yep, skin soft as silk, waist tight and springy.

But she'd gone through with it. She remembered every slice. Cut straight through muscle and ribs. There was no coming back from that kind of pain. Just thinking about it made her body tremble all over again. So how on earth did she look like this now?

Then it hit her.

Freya jerked upright in bed, heart pounding, not even bothering with her slippers. She stumbled over to the mirror-and froze.

A completely unfamiliar girl stared back at her in the mirror.

She stared blankly at the "girl" in the mirror, moving like a robot-lifting her left hand, and the reflection did the same. She tugged lightly at her ear, and the girl in the mirror mirrored the motion.

Freya sat in front of the mirror, already staring at the reflection for an hour, yet couldn't get enough of it. This girl-what, eighteen or nineteen tops-had skin as smooth as porcelain, features that looked like they were drawn by hand, and a figure so graceful it was almost unreal. Honestly, she could keep staring forever.

Even if all this felt straight out of a sci-fi novel, the truth was right there-she'd been reborn.

Knock knock knock- A sharp knock on the bedroom door broke her trance.

Snapping back to reality, Freya's heart, which had just started calming down, skipped into chaos again. Her mind was blank-nothing about this body's past came to her. How the heck was she supposed to deal with what was coming?

The knocking grew louder. A gentle female voice called from outside, "Vanessa, Auntie brought you some tonic. Are you up yet?"

"Yeah... I'm up, coming now." Freya shoved her messy thoughts aside and decided to just roll with it.

She moved quickly to the door, opened it, and standing there was a graceful, well-dressed woman holding a bowl of herbal medicine. Her warm smile deepened when she saw Freya standing fine. You could tell she let out a breath of relief.

"Vanessa, are you feeling okay? Drink this tonic, sweetie. You were seriously ill-don't take your recovery lightly." She placed the bowl on the nightstand, turned to take Freya's hand, and patted it gently with teary eyes.

"Vanessa, I nearly passed out when I heard you fell in the water yesterday. Thank God you're alright. If something had happened to you, how would I ever face your parents in heaven..." Her voice trembled as she started sobbing.

After what Victor did to her, this kind of soft concern hit Freya right in the feels. Just as she was about to say something, the woman picked up the bowl again, blew on it, and said urgently, "Sweetie, you gotta drink it while it's hot. Once it cools, it won't work as well. Go on, drink up..."

"Okay." Freya took the bowl and brought it to her lips. But right then, the dark liquid reflected a strange image-like a flashback. She saw this elegantly dressed woman secretly adding some powder to the bowl, stirring it for a bit, and giving a chilling smile.

"What's wrong? Why haven't you drunk it yet? It's getting cold," the woman urged, a bit of edge slipping into her gentle voice.

Freya's eyes shot up. The warm concern on the woman's face now fused with that icy image from earlier. Whatever warmth Freya had felt vanished in an instant.

In that moment, she caught a glimpse of something cold and calculating behind those concerned eyes.

"Ugh-" Freya suddenly shoved the bowl aside and ran for the bathroom, retching for a long while. When she came out, she was pale and covered her mouth weakly. "Auntie, the smell... I really can't stomach it."

"You have to take your medicine," the woman pressed, then paused, coughed lightly, and smiled as if nothing was wrong. "Vanessa, I know it tastes bad, but your health comes first."

"...Could you maybe grab me some candies? To help with the taste?" Freya frowned, looking pained.

"Of course. Try and keep it down. I'll get them now," the woman said, fussing even as she walked away.

Freya nodded sweetly, and the moment the door clicked shut, she grabbed the bowl and dashed into the bathroom. She poured it down the toilet, flushed, then dabbed a bit of the remaining liquid on her clothes, the strong medicinal smell clinging instantly.

The woman returned pretty fast, walking in just in time to see Freya holding her stomach and glaring at the now-empty bowl like it was a mortal enemy.

"Finished your drink?" The woman in designer clothes moved in closer, her face calm as usual. Only when she caught the strong scent of herbs around the girl did she finally let out a quiet sigh of relief.

"Yeah." Freya masked the frostiness in her eyes and put on a quiet, obedient face. Coming back to life in an environment she knew nothing about, it was best to keep a low profile until she figured out what cards this woman was playing.

"Vanessa, remember I mentioned there's a family dinner tonight? Now that you're feeling better, come along-it'll help shake off the bad vibes. I have a dress ready for you." The woman opened up a dress box and pulled out a slinky little slip dress.

Seriously? That kind of sexy outfit for a eighteen-year-old girl? What exactly was she trying to pull?

Still, there's no point fighting the wind when the storm's not over.

Her current body might only be eighteen, but it was already fully grown in all the right ways. The dress hugged her curves perfectly, striking a stunning balance between sweet and sultry-so gorgeous it was hard to look away.

Freya sighed inwardly. Life could be weirdly fair. After all the hell she'd gone through in her past life, waking up in this beauty of a body seemed like some kind of cosmic trade-off.

She slipped into the dress and stepped out of the bedroom, only to be startled by the loud bang of the door flying open. A teenage boy with loud, mismatched fashion and hair dyed every color of the rainbow barged in.

"Auntie, I'm starving! Got any food?" His voice cracked awkwardly, stuck somewhere between a boy's and a man's.

"Xander, can't you see your sister just woke up? And you don't even say hi? There's food in the kitchen." The woman's tone stayed gentle, soft as ever, achingly sweet.

Xander Brooks gave her a grin, all sunshine and mischief, but as soon as he looked over at Freya, his gaze turned icy. "Sister, huh? Not in my book. She's dead to me." With that, he swaggered off toward the kitchen.

The woman turned toward her, eyes apologetic. "Vanessa, don't take it to heart. You two came from the same mother. Be patient with him, okay?"

"Okay." Freya nodded, though her mind whirled with questions. This family setup was baffling.

So, she and Xander were full siblings, and her name was Vanessa Brooks? She tried the name out in her head. Vanessa. That would be her from now on. But why did Xander act like he hated her guts? He seemed to have a serious grudge.

She didn't have time to figure that out, though. The woman had already started urging her out the door. Vanessa followed her, sneaking one last glance backward at Xander, whose cold stare held something more-some cocktail of jealousy and resentment.

The dinner was supposed to be a "family gathering," but oddly, the woman didn't even bring Xander along. Vanessa, keeping up her sweet-girl act, followed her into a fancy hotel and into a private room.

Her supposed uncle, John Wallace, and his daughter Chloe Wallace hadn't arrived yet. The woman gave her a slight tug and led her in, giving her a once-over. There was an unexpected flicker in her eyes.

Vanessa didn't miss it. She instinctively touched her forehead, swayed a little, and said, "Auntie, I'm feeling kinda dizzy..."

"Sit down for a moment. I'll get some medicine for you," the woman said, voice full of concern. But in her eyes, something glinted-excitement, barely hidden.

"Thanks," Vanessa replied softly, eyes closed as she sat in the chair with a calm that didn't match how her heart slammed in her chest.

As the woman stepped out of the room, Vanessa's eyes snapped open like a flash of lightning. She stared at the door, cold and alert.

Wow. So that's how this "family" rolls? Drugging her and setting something up behind the scenes?

She padded silently to the door, peeked out, and saw the woman slinking into a room a short way down the hall.

Vanessa followed, careful and quiet, all the way to the door. Luckily, it wasn't fully shut. She gently leaned toward the small crack and caught a clear view of what was going on inside.

Inside the private room, the "family of three" was already cooking up their plan.