Reborn on the Morning of My Murder

Ethan Vanderbilt, heir to a colossal fortune, was set to make the biggest announcement of his life: his engagement at the annual Vanderbilt Legacy Ball. But waking that morning, a tidal wave of *past life* memories crashed over him: his ruthless wife, Chloe Ashton's, affair with Marcus Thorne, her blatant pursuit of his fortune, the chilling truth that her child wasn't his, and the cold steel of the knife she plunged into him.

He remembered the quiet, unwavering love of Olivia Hayes, his guardian, a devotion he callously ignored, leading to her heartbroken death not long after his own murder. The raw fury of betrayal, the agony of his death, and the profound guilt for Olivia's unrequited devotion consumed him. How could he have been so incredibly blind to the viper beside him and the angel who truly cared?

Now, back on the very morning of his original fate, Ethan knew one thing with absolute certainty: this time, he would rewrite his past, dismantle his enemies, and choose the woman who deserved his love-Olivia.

The sunlight cut through the heavy drapes of my bedroom, a harsh intrusion.

I blinked, my head pounding.

The date. It was the morning of the Vanderbilt Legacy Ball.

The annual event where I, Ethan Vanderbilt, was supposed to announce my engagement.

To one of three women chosen for me.

Then, the memories crashed in, a tidal wave of a life I'd already lived, a life that ended in betrayal and blood.

Chloe Ashton, my wife in that life.

Her affair with Marcus Thorne.

Her insatiable hunger for the Vanderbilt fortune.

The shocking truth about her pregnancy, the child wasn't mine, it was Marcus's.

The fire at our Hamptons estate, a convenient accident where Marcus was supposedly killed.

Chloe's venomous words, her accusations.

And finally, the cold steel of the knife she plunged into me.

I remembered Olivia Hayes, my mother's closest friend, my guardian.

Her quiet, unwavering love for me, a love I never acknowledged.

Her deep sorrow at my funeral.

Her own death, not long after, from what everyone called a broken heart.

I sat up, the silk sheets cool against my skin. This was real. I was back.

A pre-ball family meeting was scheduled with my grandfather, William Vanderbilt III.

He sat in his usual imposing armchair in the library, the scent of old books and power filling the air.

"Ethan, you look pale. The pressure of the announcement, I presume?"

I met his gaze.

"Grandfather, I will not be marrying any of the three heiresses presented."

His eyebrows shot up.

"What is this nonsense, Ethan?"

"I have made my choice. I intend to marry Olivia Hayes."

Grandfather Vanderbilt stared, his face a mask of disbelief.

"Olivia? She practically raised you, Ethan! This is...unheard of! It's inappropriate."

He looked genuinely disturbed, his traditional values shaken.

"She's far too old for you, and her standing..."

I held his gaze, my resolve firm.

"There are circumstances, Grandfather, that you cannot yet comprehend. Olivia is the only woman I will marry."

I remembered Olivia, in my first life, finding my stolen research notes, the ones Marcus used to build his fake reputation.

She had tried to warn me about Chloe, about Marcus, but I was too blinded by Chloe's manufactured charm.

Olivia had loved me deeply, silently, without expectation. She deserved happiness.

My grandfather saw the steel in my eyes. He knew I wasn't being flippant.

"You're serious about this, aren't you?" he asked, his voice softer.

"Completely. I understand your reservations, but my mind is made up. Chloe, and the others, they seek only the Vanderbilt name and fortune. Olivia... Olivia is different."

I hinted at Chloe's greed, her manipulations, things I couldn't fully explain without sounding insane.

He sighed, a long, weary sound.

"Olivia Hayes... she has always been a woman of quiet dignity. If this is truly your heart's desire, Ethan... then I will not stand in your way. But society will talk."

"Let them," I said. "Their opinions mean nothing to me."

Later, as I prepared for the evening, a familiar, unwelcome presence appeared at my door.

Chloe Ashton.

She was as glamorous and self-assured as ever, her smile perfectly crafted.

To my grim realization, she was also reincarnated. Her eyes held a flicker of something knowing, something predatory.

"Ethan, darling," she purred, gliding into the room. "That little stunt with your grandfather this morning. Quite the rebellious phase, but we all know you'll make the sensible choice in the end."

She believed my declaration about Olivia was just a game.

Then came the demands, audacious and breathtakingly arrogant.

"First, Marcus needs a senior executive role at Vanderbilt Corp. Something befitting his talents. And a penthouse, overlooking Central Park. A gift, of course."

She paused, examining her perfectly manicured nails.

"And I'll need designated weekdays to spend exclusively with Marcus. After we're married, naturally."

I kept my face impassive, masking the revulsion churning inside me.

"The penthouse," I said, my voice cool. "I can arrange for one to be... prepared."

Fitted with surveillance, I thought.

"As for your other demands, Chloe, they are dismissed. The role of Mrs. Vanderbilt is not yours for the taking."

Chloe scoffed, a dismissive wave of her hand.

"Oh, Ethan, still so dramatic. You're captivated by me, you always have been. This is just posturing."

She then launched into a paean about Marcus's "innate talent" for finance.

Abilities, I knew, that Marcus had plagiarized directly from my stolen notes and proposals from our first life.

The bitter memory surfaced: me, covering for Marcus's academic cheating, his theft of my work, all to keep Chloe happy.

And the faked yacht hijacking.

I was injured protecting Chloe, a setup.

Marcus and his father, Mr. Thorne, took all the credit.

Mr. Thorne then "heroically sacrificed" himself, a convenient demise that allowed him to disappear with a substantial sum.

Chloe's uncharacteristic boldness, her immediate demands for Marcus, confirmed it.

She remembered everything too.

She wasn't just assuming I'd pick her; she was trying to re-establish the power dynamic from our last life, where she and Marcus controlled me.

"Marcus is a genius, Ethan. You could learn a thing or two from him."

My jaw tightened.

"Is that so, Chloe?"

I remembered the countless nights I'd spent working on projects, only for Marcus to present them as his own, with Chloe's smiling approval.

She had systematically undermined me, isolated me, all while professing her love.

"You know I'm the only one for you, Ethan," she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

"You need me. Without me, you're just... lost."

I met her gaze, my own cold.

"I am not lost, Chloe. And I am certainly not yours."

"We'll see about that at the ball tonight," she said, a smirk playing on her lips. "You'll come to your senses."