Reborn to Rule: From Doormat to Dynasty

The heavy iron gates creaked open, and a woman in a prison uniform stepped out, clutching a yellowed folder tightly in her hands.

Behind her, the guard's voice rang out, cold and flat, "Try to live a decent life out there."

A decent life?

She laughed quietly, no emotion in her eyes. Memories of the body's former owner-Celeste Harper-started playing back in her mind like a movie reel.

Celeste wasn't born a nobody. She was once the daughter of a powerful family in Yannburgh. But things went downhill fast. Her dad gambled their fortune away, and when she was just sixteen, her mom passed from illness. Within three years, her father remarried and brought home a new stepmother and a younger half-sister. That was when her place in the family crumbled.

Her stepmother treated her like dirt, and the so-called sister went so far as to steal the man Celeste loved.

She swallowed it all, pretended like everything was fine. She held on until she was twenty-two. That's when her dad, desperate to keep the Harper name relevant in Yannburgh, forced her to marry Ethan Shaw, the disabled heir of the powerful Shaw family.

Ethan. Yeah, he was once the guy leading the unstoppable Blue Eagle Tactical Unit-basically a legend in uniform.

Sounds like a sweet deal, right? Only... life doesn't give away freebies.

A training accident had left Ethan paralyzed from the waist down. Couldn't walk, couldn't take care of himself-probably never would.

And Celeste? She meant nothing in the Shaw household. Cold stares, distant voices, as if she didn't even exist.

Then came the worst part. She got slapped with a "manslaughter" charge and got thrown in prison for three whole years.

Three years ago felt like yesterday. The pain, the betrayal-it all still haunted her.

Sitting in the back of a taxi, she stared out the window, fingers digging into the fabric of her skirt, knuckles white.

This life of hers? Always about swallowing her pride, always walking on eggshells. So when she hit rock bottom in prison, she had actually thought about ending it. And maybe she did. Because now... she was back, different.

She had Celeste's entire past etched into her soul-every wound, every grudge.

After half an hour on the road, the taxi finally pulled up to a three-story European-style mansion built halfway up a quiet hill. The place screamed low-key luxury. She pulled out her last crumpled bill from her pocket, said a quiet thanks, and headed straight for the front gate of the villa.

She pressed the doorbell.

"Miss Harper?" The housemaid who answered was momentarily stunned, then quickly corrected herself, "Oh no, I mean-madam?! You're back?"

Celeste had been gone for three whole years. During those years, no one from the Shaw family had so much as checked in on her.

Despite the Shaw family's resources and influence, they'd completely ignored her, as if they wished she'd just vanish in prison. It was obvious how much they disapproved of her.

So it wasn't surprising that the maid was shocked to see her standing there. Still, she hurried to the foyer and fetched a pair of slippers, placing them at Celeste's feet.

"Hold it right there!" Before she could even get one foot in, a well-dressed woman came elegantly down the stairs. Her rose-colored cheongsam made her look radiant, and the large emerald ring on her finger sparkled under the light. Her makeup was perfectly done, giving her an air of sharp authority.

She gave Celeste a cold glance from a distance, face tightening. "Wearing such an unlucky outfit into this house-are you trying to bring bad luck to us all? Maynard, take her to the servant's washroom next door and have her shower first. Change into something clean-we don't need any germs coming in! Ethan's just starting to recover; we can't afford setbacks because of her."

Immediately, someone stepped up to her, gesturing politely, "This way, madam."

The meaning was clear: she wasn't welcome inside.

That small room next door was usually reserved for the staff-dingy and cramped. The message couldn't be louder: they now regarded her as one of the help.

Celeste gave a faint, mocking smile but didn't argue. She let go of the slippers in her hand and said calmly, "Alright, Mom."

Then she turned and followed the maid out without another word.

The elegant lady stiffened in place, clearly caught off guard. That last word-"Mom"-cut especially sharp to her ears.

Celeste had only ever referred to her as "Madam" or "Ma'am" before. This was the very first time she had called her that.

And somehow, something about her... felt different from three years ago.

But she couldn't quite put her finger on what exactly had changed-after all, the face was still the same.

After her shower and getting changed into a fresh dress, Celeste walked into the villa to find the huge living room completely empty. Not even Sophie Larkspur was around.

Maynard explained casually, "Oh, madam, everyone went to that exercise thing. Mr. Shaw took the lady and Miss Grace with him. As for Master Liam... I'm afraid no one quite knows where he's run off to again."

Celeste frowned slightly. "What about Ethan?"

Her so-called husband. The firstborn of the Shaw family. The man who was destined to spend the rest of his life in a wheelchair.

"Master Ethan? Haven't seen him all day," Maynard replied honestly.

"Got it."

She headed up the spiraling staircase to the second floor and stopped outside the bedroom she remembered sharing-on paper-with Ethan. Knocking twice and hearing no response, she pushed the door open herself.

If Ethan had been inside, he'd probably snap at her with a cold, "Get out!"

Which meant he clearly wasn't here.

Oddly enough, she felt a little relieved. Like a weight had lifted off her chest.

She frowned again, wondering why the girl who owned this body before seemed to fear her husband so much.

But before she could even finish pushing the door open fully, a dark figure shot out from behind her. With a loud bang, the door slammed shut, and a strong force twisted her arms and slammed her against the wall.

Her mind just-blanked.

"Let go of me! Who are you?" she yelled, struggling hard, but her body was completely overpowered. She twisted to look back, but all she could catch was a black blur.

The man's chest was nearly pressed against her back; one hand pinned hers while the other roamed far too familiarly.

"Who am I? Come on, sister-in-law, already forgot me?"

There was a couple seconds of silence before his voice came low and twisted with amusement. He leaned in closer. "It's only been three years. Want me to help jog your memory a bit?"

That voice-it was like something crawled straight out of the shadows, making her skin crawl with icy dread.Her wrists were twisted behind her back, and just a turn of the head made that sharp, bone-deep pain spike through her.

She practically blurted out, "Liam Shaw?!"

In Celeste's mind, Liam had always been the playboy of the Shaw family-changing girlfriends more often than outfits. There was even a time a pregnant woman showed up, claiming to be carrying his baby.

With Mr. Shaw doting on him endlessly, Liam had pretty much been running wild. And three years ago, he'd tried to force himself on her.

She barely escaped that time, cracking a bottle over his head before he backed off.

Now it was happening all over again?!

"Yeah, I heard you are getting out today, so I came back early," Liam said smoothly, grinning as he edged closer, a mocking gleam in his eyes.

"Three years, huh? You've been married into the Shaw family that long and you've never had a shot at happiness, have you? Bet my brother never even touched you. I remember your wedding night-you two slept in different rooms. He was already half-dead back then, probably can't even function down there. But me? Stick with me and you'll at least have someone looking out for you around here."

"Oh... really? You swear? No one would mess with me again?" Her voice was syrupy sweet, trying to play along, though her body language still screamed resistance.

If it were the real Celeste, she'd go down swinging to keep her dignity. But the one in control now knew better-sometimes pretending to give in worked way better than fighting back.

Sure enough, Liam totally bought the act. His grip eased up, letting his guard down.

His face, handsome but dangerous, broke into a smug smile. He reeked faintly of alcohol, the smell clinging to him.

"Of course. At least I wouldn't dump you in jail and forget about you for three years like my brother did. Cold as ice, that guy-don't you think? C'mon, I've waited three damn years. Let me finally have you."

As he spoke, he scooped her up in his arms without waiting for a response, taking just a few quick steps to the bed before leaning over her again.

"W-wait, hold on!" she gasped, pressing a trembling hand against his chest to stop him.

"What now?" Liam frowned, clearly running out of patience.

"I'm on my period... Not a good time," she said, trying to brush him off.

She really was. Found out while she was showering.

But Liam didn't buy it. He stared at her with narrowed eyes, clearly thinking it was just an excuse.

"Seriously?" His lips curled up slightly, impossible to tell what he was thinking.

"Dead serious." Her face was all sincerity.

Liam went quiet for a beat, then suddenly chuckled, an amused glint in his eyes. "Celeste, it's been three years and you're still so naïve... Do you think I'm that easy to get rid of?"

Celeste was speechless. So now he assumed she was lying?

"You're smarter now," he said, tracing her collarbone with a finger, slowly moving down. His touch made her tense up instantly.

Was this guy... serious?

Psycho!

Staring up at Liam from this close, Celeste caught the movement of his hand heading somewhere way out of line. His low, velvety voice brushed against her ear. "One quick check and I'll know for sure..."

Her whole body went rigid.

Just then, the sound of wheelchair wheels scraping the floor cut through the air-sharp and clear.

Celeste instantly realized what was happening. Liam reacted faster, springing off the bed and hurriedly straightening his clothes.

Right on cue, his eyes met those of a man sitting in a wheelchair.

As Ethan took in the scene-the tossed-up room, Liam clumsily buttoning up, Celeste sitting up from the bed-his expression darkened, like a thundercloud ready to burst.

"What do you think you're doing?" Ethan's voice was like ice, layered and cold, enough to send chills down anyone's spine.

Spending every day in isolation, shut in with a broken body-you'd be cold too. Ice cave vibes? Nailed it.

"B-Bro... What are you doing here?" Liam stammered.

He thought Ethan was locked in his study all day. That's the only reason he dared sneak into the master bedroom to mess with Celeste at all.

"This is my room." Ethan rolled his wheelchair forward, every inch he moved bringing with it a biting frost.

But as intimidating as that was, someone else clearly had it worse.

Liam had always been scared of his older brother. Back in the day, Ethan moved with sharp precision, known for his ruthlessness and record-breaking achievements. They even called him the "Cold-Blooded Devil."

If not for that tragic accident during a training exercise, Ethan would still be one of the big names in Yannburgh.

Even now-paralyzed, stuck in a chair-he still radiated that same intense presence.

"I'll ask again. What exactly were you two doing in here?" His voice, still icy, now held a clear note of impatience.

"It's not what it looks like, I swear!" Liam's weak protest only made things worse. In front of Ethan, he turned into a total coward.

Celeste couldn't help but sneer inwardly. Here he was acting all dominant with her, but in front of Ethan, he shriveled up like a scared little pup?

Then Ethan's eyes, guided by the light in the room, fell on her. Her delicate, flawless face. The few years of prison had left her slimmer, more fragile-collarbones prominent.

"If he won't talk, then you explain," Ethan said, voice cutting like frost, completely devoid of warmth.

Celeste froze.

He wanted her to speak?

But what was there for her to say?