The Brilliant Second Life of Doctor Vicious Harper

The lights in the operating room were so bright they felt like needles stabbing into Harper Reeves' eyes.

She lay on the cold table, unable to move, her breathing so faint it was a miracle she was still alive. The virus had hollowed her out. Even lifting her eyelids felt like wading through mud.

Someone approached. The faint sound of soft-soled shoes stopped right beside her.

Harper tried to turn her head, tried to see who it was, but everything was a blur - shapes melting into white.

A familiar voice answered her question anyway.

"VR-1. Most people die in seven days," the woman said, almost amused. "But you? Three months. Still breathing. You're really something, Harper."

Phoebe.

Her cousin.

Her doctor.

And the person who secretly prayed every day for her death.

Phoebe adjusted her surgical mask, her eyes curving with a cruelty she didn't bother to hide. "Honestly, you've been a perfect test subject. So I want to see why you refuse to die."

Harper's stomach twisted when she smelled formalin. She didn't need her vision to understand what was prepared on the tray beside her.

They were planning to cut her open while she was still alive.

Her mind spun. Her chest tightened with pain. Tears leaked slowly from the corners of her eyes.

Three months of being locked here. Three months of needles, viruses, drugs - and lies.

Phoebe had said it was for their grandfather's dream, for medical breakthroughs, for the Reeves family's glory.

Harper had believed every word.

But once she survived the trial period, the truth arrived with a knife: she was never meant to survive.

Her entire life - her ruined marriage, stolen achievements, shattered trust - all of it had been Phoebe's doing.

A sharp, metallic taste filled her mouth. She coughed, and blood dripped down her chin.

Phoebe watched with satisfaction and inserted a thicker needle into Harper's arm, stabilizing her blood pressure. "Don't pass out. I still want to enjoy the dissection."

Harper's fingers trembled. She wanted to scream, but her throat was too dry.

Phoebe leaned close, voice sweet and poisonous. "Want to hear something fun? I'm pregnant. The father is Theo."

Harper froze.

Her heart, already fragile, seemed to split open. She had suspected something between them... but this-this was a knife she wasn't prepared for.

Phoebe chuckled. "Nine years married, and he never touched you. But with me? Oh, he's perfectly fine. Amazing, actually."

Harper's breathing came out in short, helpless gasps. She felt like she was drowning.

Phoebe continued, enjoying every reaction. "Did you think Theo married you out of love? No. He needed to keep you under our control."

The words stabbed straight into her deepest scar - the night she had been assaulted years ago. A night she tried to bury, but Phoebe now ripped open again.

"You-monster..." Harper forced out, rage swirling through her veins. She gathered all the strength she had left and spat blood straight onto Phoebe's face.

For a moment, silence.

Then Phoebe snapped.

"You filthy thing- I'll kill you!"

She grabbed the scalpel and stabbed downwards without hesitation.

Harper screamed as pain shot through her, sharp and violent. Her thin fingers clenched on the sheets. Her body arched from the impact.

"Why... why are you doing this..." she gasped.

Phoebe's face twisted. "Because you never knew your place! Always trying to outshine me! You should've stayed beneath my feet. You were born to be stepped on!"

Harper's vision dimmed. Each breath felt heavier than the last.

Phoebe, panting from rage, suddenly laughed. "Before you die, here's some good news. Your beloved lab? Bought by 'Young Master Gallagher.' Ninety million. Once you're gone, that money is mine and Theo's."

The world tilted.

Her lab...

Her final hope...

Her years of effort...

Taken. Sold. Gone.

The pain in her chest exploded. Her limbs shook violently.

Phoebe lifted the scalpel again and aimed at Harper's lower abdomen.

"Stop-!" Harper tried to struggle, but the blade pierced her before she could move.

A raw scream ripped out of her. Blood soaked her gown, warm and sticky. Sweat rolled down her temples.

She stared at the scalpel in horror, hatred burning so fiercely it almost drowned the pain.

Was this really the end for her?

She didn't want to die here.

Not like this.

Not while they laughed over her corpse.

Her fingers twitched.

Then something inside her snapped - not with despair, but with fury.

Using every last scrap of strength left in her dying body, Harper surged upward.

Her hand shot out - grabbed the scalpel - and slashed.

Blood sprayed across her face.

Phoebe's scream strangled in her throat. She clutched her neck, eyes wide with disbelief, but the wound was fatal. She collapsed instantly, her body convulsing on the floor as blood pooled beneath her.

Harper stared, stunned, breathing hard.

Her vision was fading. The room spun. She could barely feel her own body anymore - only the warm blood drying on her skin.

She let out a shaky, broken laugh.

She had fought back.

Finally.

But it was far too late.

As darkness crept in from the edges of her sight, one thought clung to her like a whisper:

If I could live again... I wouldn't endure. I wouldn't bow. I would destroy anyone who dared to use me.

And, I would burn their world to the ground.

If I could start over... it would be perfect.

***

Hot - unbearably hot.

A thunderclap exploded. Harper shot her eyes open.

Lightning tore through the darkness.

She froze. Is this hell?

An abandoned construction site. A heavy iron gate locked tight... and the raucous sound of people playing cards drifted from outside.

Her eyes narrowed. She really had... been reborn.

Shock and terror hit her so hard she almost couldn't breathe.

She'd gone back to that night nine years ago.

Because she'd tried to run from the marriage, Young Master Gallagher had locked her in here. His men had beaten her, raped her...

The nightmare crashed over her like a flood. Harper's hands shook uncontrollably.

No. This time she would not let it play out the same way. She had to get out.

She moved - only for the old chair under her to creak.

The voices outside stopped.

"Boss, there's movement in there. Maybe the girl's awake!"

Men burst through the door. The leader didn't hesitate - a heavy fist smashed into Harper's face.

Stars exploded behind her eyes; a metallic, sweet taste flooded her mouth.

She clenched her fists, stubbornly lifted her head, and glared at them.

"What're you looking at? Be smart and let us have our fun, or we'll kill you!" one man sneered, waving a knife across her face.

"Get away! Don't come near me!"

"Oho - this chick's got spirit..." they laughed.

The battered metal gate rattled in the wind, making a dull, eerie noise.

The moldy air carried a nauseating mix of scents.

Harper's constitution was unusual and she was a pharmacology expert - she recognized the gas on their breath.

Poison. Hallucinogens that loosened their senses, letting them swing wildly at her - beating and smashing her face.

"Just let us have our way and you'll suffer less," one snarled.

They tore at her clothes brutally. The shameful scenes from her previous life rolled into her mind like a plague.

Fear tightened her chest till she couldn't breathe.

In a fierce reflex, she bit down on a man's ear. Blood spilled from the corner of her mouth.

"Ah! I'll kill you!" he screamed. Harper snatched his knife and pressed it to his throat behind his ear.

Spitting out a chunk of ear, she warned, "Don't come near, or I'll gut him."

The threat snapped them to partial sobriety; they hesitated, wary.

The man she held still tried to struggle. He grabbed at her throat and she drove the blade through his palm.

In the chaos and howls, Harper leapt through a window and ran.

Rain hammered down over her as she fled the ruins; in the black night her eyes shone like something wild.

She ignored her weakness and ran until she reached cover under a nearby eave.

A trembling figure stood there. It was Theo Callahan.

In her previous life she'd tolerated that bastard's nine years of "impotence" and, in return, he'd been part of the rot that ruined her. He'd even fathered a child with Phoebe.

Hatred had lodged in her bones.

Blood smeared on her face, she radiated a cold, lethal aura. Theo took a step back, unnerved.

Perfect.

Harper licked the iron taste from her lips with a hungry tongue. She felt like a lion sizing up its prey.

After the assault in her former life, Theo had been the one to appear and "clean up" the mess - and she'd been so grateful she agreed to marry him.

Now she realized he'd been hiding here the whole time, eavesdropping.

She clenched her fists until her nails bit into her palms, teeth grinding with fury.

"Theo, run! This place is dangerous. Let's find somewhere safe to talk!" she said, suddenly taking his hand and pulling him toward a "good spot."

They didn't stop until they reached the factory storeroom.

By the fence sat a chained iron cage; inside it lived a terrifying guard dog.

"Harper... why are you covered in blood? You... you didn't-kill someone, did you?" Theo panted, eyes wide with fear.

Harper's gaze chilled. "It's my blood."

"Your blood? How-?" He circled her, puzzling over the soaked clothes. "There aren't any wounds..."

"Theo, the ticket - didn't you say you'd take me away tonight?" she asked, frost in her voice, making his breath catch.

"I-"

"You didn't buy one, did you? Or were you too worried I'd drag you into murder?"

He froze. Was this sharp‑tongued woman the Harper he'd known?

"Harper, you're misunderstanding me and Phoebe. Nothing's going on. Trust me - if you marry me we'll leave Belvia right now!"

At this point, he still expected her to fall for the trap they'd laid?

Harper's eyes narrowed. She looked at the huge dog cage behind Theo.

She remembered that dog.

In her last life it had been infected with rabies, bitten someone, and died soon after.

Now it paced frantically in its cage; its bloodshot, glassy eyes were like those of a mutated animal - and it was in the dangerous active phase.

"Fine," she said, and then, with a voice that cut like ice, "I'm cold. Could you give me your clothes?"

Her look was dangerous.

He hesitated. "My clothes are soaked-"

"Theo, I'm so cold... really cold..."

She hugged herself and bit her lower lip, suddenly coy.

Theo's protective instincts flared. He took off his jacket and handed it to her.

"And your pants..." she purred, leaning close so her breath brushed his ear.

He wanted to refuse, but her seductive act worked. He handed them over.

The moment the jacket and pants were in her hands, Harper yanked open the dog cage with a fierce motion.

The hound lunged out, unleashed fury, and slammed into Theo, ripping into his lower body until it was a bloody pulp.

Amid his screams, Harper walked away with composed steps, laughing aloud in the rain.

'Theo, since you like to pretend you're impotent, I'll do you a favor. I'll cut off your root of trouble.'

***

Belvia City - Inside the Grand Ballroom of the Five-Star Hotel

Thousands of guests filled the banquet hall, all waiting for the bride-to-be to make her grand entrance.

In a dim corner sat the bride's parents, looking out of place among the glittering crowd - two small-town nobodies surrounded by the sneers of high society.

"Miss, without an invitation, you can't go in!"

Two security guards blocked the entrance, arms crossed.

The young woman in front of them lifted her head, her face covered in dirt and bruises, her sharp gaze cutting like a blade.

"Tell me," she said coldly, "does the bride... also need an invitation?"

The guards instinctively stepped back, their confidence faltering under her glare.

"N–No, ma'am... of course not..."

"Harper?!"

That voice. She would recognize it even in death.

In an instant, her heart clenched, like a storm had erupted inside her chest. Pain surged so violently she had to take a deep breath just to keep her balance.

Slowly, she turned around. Her eyes, dark and venomous, locked onto Phoebe.

Phoebe and the circle of wealthy socialites around her froze. The killing intent in Harper's gaze made them all shrink back, afraid to take a single step closer.

Harper straightened her back, walked past them without hesitation, and climbed onto the stage. Calmly, she picked up the microphone and declared, her voice ringing through the hall:

"Sorry to keep everyone waiting."

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

The timid granddaughter from the Reeves family's third branch... actually dared to speak in public?

Phoebe frowned tightly. 'What's wrong with this useless thing today? Did those men not break her properly?'

She had poured her heart into tonight's engagement banquet - every detail, every guest, every whisper of admiration had been hers alone. Just moments ago, she'd been the perfect image of grace and beauty - the dazzling jewel of the Reeves family.

And now, all eyes were on the dirty, disheveled woman standing on her stage.

'Damn it, Harper!'

Composing herself, Phoebe quickly stepped forward, her expression softening into false concern. "Harper, what happened to your dress? Don't tell me someone... took advantage of you?"

Her words hit like a dart - deliberate, poisonous, and instantly effective.

The guests began murmuring as their eyes fell on Harper's torn, blood-stained gown. The buttons were misaligned, the fabric shredded. She did look like someone who had been assaulted.

Seeing the effect, Phoebe pressed on, feigning sisterly compassion. "Harper, don't be scared. If something really happened, I'll go with you to the hospital for an exam."

Her tone was gentle, but her eyes gleamed with triumph.

Harper wasn't fooled. Her gaze turned icy, slicing through the pretense.

"Oh? You seem very eager for me to have been assaulted."

Phoebe's face paled, and she quickly put on a mask of wounded innocence. "I'm only worried about you. I know how much you love Theo Callahan. If it weren't for an accident, you wouldn't have crashed his engagement party, right?"

That name - Theo Callahan.

The moment it left Phoebe's mouth, Harper's expression twisted with cold contempt.

She let out a sharp laugh. "Your precious golden boy? Please. To me, he's not even worth the dirt on my shoe."

For a brief second, Phoebe's face contorted with rage before she quickly regained her composure, sighing as if speaking from the heart. "Harper, this is your engagement banquet. I get it - you're embarrassed in front of everyone, but you can't just throw blame around. Do you really want to ruin the Reeves family's reputation?"

The Reeves family's reputation.

In her previous life, Phoebe had used those words to crush her over and over again. And now she dared to pull the same trick?

As murmurs started to turn against her, Phoebe seized the chance to rally the crowd again. "Look around, Harper. All these powerful people came here for you. No matter what happened, they'll stand by your side!"

Those so-called "powerful people" were the elite of Belvia - businessmen, officials, and aristocrats.

The irony was, this was the engagement party of the Young Master of the Gallagher family... and the groom himself hadn't even shown up. Yet the city's upper class still attended out of respect.

From their indifferent expressions, Harper realized one brutal truth - if she didn't clear her name right now, she would end up exactly like in her past life: branded a "fallen woman," drowned in the ridicule and gossip of the entire city.

Her fists clenched. She raised her head and spoke into the microphone, her voice firm and loud enough to shake the hall.

"No need to worry, everyone. The one who did this to me... was Chase Gallagher!"

The entire room erupted into chaos.

No one expected Harper to drag the Young Master of the Gallagher family into this mess.

At once, the only representative from the Gallagher family - Butler Lane - shot to his feet. His face was dark, his tone deep and commanding.

"Miss Reeves," he said, "everyone here can see that our Young Master hasn't even shown up today. How can you claim this has anything to do with him?"

Butler Lane wasn't just anyone. Back in Belvia, he was a man people feared and respected - when he spoke, it carried weight.

The crowd collectively held its breath, waiting to see how Harper would talk her way out of this.

But Harper didn't flinch. She gave him a cold, sweeping glance and shot back, "Oh? Since when do newlyweds have to report every argument to the family butler?"

That one line - impossible to disprove - instantly cornered him.

Before Butler Lane could respond, a woman in an elegant gown rushed toward the stage to smooth things over.

Harper narrowed her eyes. Of course - it was her aunt, Amara, Phoebe's adoptive mother.

Perfect. What a reunion.

Amara's thin brows arched as she stepped forward with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"Oh, Butler Lane, please don't take it to heart," she said sweetly. "The girl's just careless with her words. She must've been fooling around somewhere and got herself hurt - it definitely has nothing to do with Young Master Gallagher. Absolutely not."

At first glance, her tone sounded apologetic, but the meaning underneath was vicious. Fooling around somewhere?

Throwing dirt came naturally to this mother–daughter duo.

Harper tilted her head, eyes gleaming dangerously. "So what you're saying, Auntie... is that when the Young Master was dating me, he was just fooling around with me?"

Amara froze. The sudden reversal hit her so hard her fake smile faltered.

It only took her a second to recover - she quickly softened her tone, pretending to be the understanding elder.

"Oh, child, I didn't mean that. It's a good thing that you two are so in love. I only meant that you should be careful with your words. After all, it's rare for someone of his status not to mind your background."

That word - background - landed like a slap.

In an instant, Harper remembered all those years when this woman used to sneer at her - calling her a pathetic orphan, a burden no one wanted.

The seal on her old hatred cracked open.

Her lips twisted into a feral smile. "You're right, Auntie. My background isn't nearly as glamorous as Phoebe's. I didn't get to choose my parents. But unlike her, I didn't latch onto yours the moment mine died just so I could have a mother again."

She leaned forward slightly, voice dripping with mockery. "You should be proud though - even without giving birth, you still managed to pass down all your fine virtues to your precious adopted daughter."

The entire ballroom went silent.

Phoebe is adopted?

Amara can't have children?!

***