The Rebirth Of A Betrayed Heiress

She's mine.

Though she's madly in love with another man. Though she might not remember me or might not care if I still exist. Hell, she might still hate me.

But she's still mine.

I met her in college, so reserved, so quiet. Yet she smiled and turned into a bundle of joy, yapping away whenever my best friend was close. I knew she had fallen for him and it broke my heart into a zillion pieces.

She is the rhythm that courses through my veins. She's a fire that I can't extinguish while she burns me up.

So I vowed to protect her. I allowed her live her life while I watched from afar.

I became her guardian angel and a demon lurking in the shadows.

There are things she doesn't know and shouldn't know but one thing clear is that I'd die before I let any damn soul hurt her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rosette's point of view~~

They said grief makes you feel hollow. But right now, lying on the hospital bed, I didn't feel hollow-I felt shattered.

My baby was dead.

And I hadn't even been allowed to hold him alive.

The nurse entered with trembling hands, carrying a small, blanketed bundle. Her eyes avoided mine. She didn't speak.

She simply placed him beside me, as if returning something insignificant. As if handing over a handbag I'd forgotten at reception.

But he wasn't a handbag. He was my son. My firstborn.

My breath caught, not from the breathing tube that ran down my throat, but from pain so sharp it clawed at my chest.

My hand twitched, reaching for him. I wanted to scream, to beg, to ask why. But the machines spoke louder than I could.

I couldn't scream.

I couldn't speak.

So I cried. Silent tears leaked down my cheeks as I stared at the pale, unmoving face of the baby I had carried for nine months-the baby I had loved even before he had a name. He was just three days old.

I knew who had done this. Celine and Leila.The mother of the man I loved, and his wife.

Yes, wife. Because Blake McCain, the man who once held me in his arms and whispered forever, had married another woman while keeping me by his side.

His mistress. That was what I had become. And yet, I had stayed-foolishly, blindly-because I loved him. Because I believed he still loved me. Because I thought... he didn't know what they were doing.

But he did.

He watched as Celine criticized me, called me a gold-digger. He let Leila mock my pregnancy, even as she pretended to befriend me. He stood by while they took control of everything-my body, my baby, my life.

And now, my baby was dead.

"Oh Rosette..."

Her voice dripped with saccharine concern, like spoiled honey.

Leila.

She stepped into the room dressed like she'd just come from a gala-lips painted red, not a hair out of place. A smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"I couldn't come earlier. I... I'm so sorry. I know how much he meant to you and the fact that you didn't even get to hold him- I'm so sorry"

I couldn't move. But my eyes burned holes into her perfect face.

"It was so sudden," she continued, placing a hand delicately over her chest.

"Three days old... and he just stopped breathing. I didn't know how to take care of him, you know? Babies are fragile. I suppose I made a mistake."

A mistake.

Her words were a noose around my throat. My fingers clenched, or tried to, but my body remained stubbornly still. Only my tears betrayed my rage.

She came closer, crouched beside me, and whispered into my ear.

"You should've known your place. You were never meant to be his mother. Maybe if I was, he'd have survived. You caused this."

I wanted to scream so badly the pain became a physical thing, like fire licking beneath my skin.

Leila stood. "Anyway, I thought you should know he's been cremated. Celine made the arrangements. Blake is still heartbroken so I better return to him...he needs me."

She left with the same smug grace she came in, and I was left in silence again, save for the television playing softly in the background.

"...media confirms the death of Julio Jenner, billionaire CEO of JJ Empire. He succumbed to a brief but severe illness. Sources close to the family reveal that his only daughter has been missing for two years and has not been reached for comment."

Julio Jenner. My father. Dead.

The tears came harder now, relentless and uncontrollable. I wept for my baby. For my father. For the girl I used to be-the one who believed so much in pure love that she left her Father to be with the man she loved.

I closed my eyes. The tears didn't stop. And somewhere between the beeping of machines and the ache in my chest, sleep came.

But peace didn't.

A sound startled me.

Metallic. Like someone adjusting an IV stand.

My eyes fluttered open weakly.

There was a figure beside my bed. Tall. Broad shoulders. Dressed in black. A mask covered his face-sleek, clinical, like a surgeon. His eyes met mine, and something cold ran through my veins.

I couldn't speak. Couldn't ask who he was. But I knew he didn't come to save me.

He came to finish what they started.

I watched in helpless horror as he reached for the plug behind my life support.

His movements were steady. Unhurried. I wanted to scream, to beg, to do anything-but the machine was my voice now, and he was about to silence it.

With a soft click, the plug came loose.

The machine flatlined.

Darkness wrapped around me. I died.

I don't know how long it lasted-the void.

But suddenly, I was breathing again. No wires. No pain. Just... air.

I gasped, sitting upright in shock. The room spun, and I gripped the edge of the hospital bed.

Not a hospital bed. The hospital bed.

I knew this place. The cheap beige curtains. The soft humming of overhead lights. The sterile scent of antiseptic.

I looked down.

In my hand was a piece of paper, a hospital report. I blinked, trying to focus.

Pregnancy Confirmation: Rosette Jenner. Six Weeks.

My heart slammed against my ribs as I realised what was happening. This was the day I found out I was pregnant. This is the day...Eight months ago.

I was alive again, pregnant and I remembered everything.

Rosette's point of view~~

My hand shook, clutching the pregnancy report. Six weeks. My son-my son-was alive inside me again.

Tears formed in my eyes as I gently touched my stomach to feel him. The memory of his lifeless body clawing at me as I cried.

I'd lived through Blake's betrayal, Leila's cruelty, Celine's schemes. I'd lost my baby, my father, my dignity, my life. I'd died.

No. I wasn't the naive Rosette Jenner who'd loved blindly anymore. I was a storm, ready to tear their world apart.

I stood, legs steady despite the fury inside. The hospital gown clung to me, thin and humiliating, but I didn't care.

My purse sat on the chair. Keys, wallet, a cracked phone. All I had in this life I'd chosen to be "normal." No one knew I was Julio Jenner's daughter, heiress to the JJ Empire.

I'd kept that secret to be with Blake, and it had cost me everything. But not this time.

I stormed out, ignoring the nurses' stares. My beat-up car, a junker I'd bought to keep up the poor-girl act, sputtered in the lot.

The thought of my father, who I'd cut off for Blake, stung. I'd fix that soon. First, I had a reckoning.

The drive to Blake's penthouse was a haze of rage. The city's lights glared, the metropolis alive with its cruel pulse.

Blake's tower loomed, a symbol of wealth he'd built on my father's support. Yes, his wealth, fame, success, he owes everything to my father who secretly fueled it all while Blake grew his ego, thinking it was his own genius.

I parked, bare feet hitting the pavement, hospital gown peeking from under my coat. The doorman blinked, barely recognizing me.

"Miss?" he started.

"Up. Now." I snapped. He buzzed me into the private elevator.

The ride to the penthouse was endless. My reflection in the steel doors showed tangled brown hair, violet eyes blazing. I looked like a nobody, just as they wanted. But I wasn't their broken toy anymore.

The elevator opened to a party in full swing. Laughter, clinking glasses, and music filled the air, thick with champagne and ambition.

Blake's elite circle-moguls, socialites, starlets-crowded the room, fawning over Leila McCain. Her new movie was selling out, her name plastered across the city.

I remembered this night from the first timeline. I'd hidden in my corner of Blake's world, sick and ignored, while he told me to "stay out of the way", even after informing him that I was pregnant. A bastard. That's what he is.

I stepped in, my presence cutting the noise like a blade. The crowd hushed, eyes on the hospital gown underneath, bare feet and tangled hair. Let them gawk.

"Rosette?" Blake's voice was sharp, confused.

He stood by the bar, whiskey in hand, sandy blond hair catching the light, hazel eyes narrowing.

"What are you doing here? You're supposed to be at home."

"Home?" I laughed, loud and raw, making heads turn.

"You mean the cage you keep me in while you flaunt your wife?"

The music faded. Leila stepped forward, her smile venomous.

"Rosette, you poor thing. You look like you crawled out of a gutter. Go home before you embarrass yourself."

But I wasn't intimidated. I stepped closer.

"Embarrass myself? But I'm not the one clinging to a man who uses me as a prop, am I?"

Blake moved toward me, jaw tight. "Rosette, stop. This isn't the place-"

"It's the perfect place," I cut him off, voice rising.

"Right here, in front of your precious guests, I'm ending this. I'm done with you, Blake McCain. Done with your cowardice."

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

Leila's face twisted, her voice sharp. "How dare you! You're nothing-a nobody who thinks she's something because Blake pitied you."

"Nobody? Oh I'm anything but a nobody to that bastard you call a husband, Leila."

"I loved a man who didn't deserve me. I gave up everything for him-my pride, my future- my child. You'll never know what that's like, Leila. You'll never carry a child, never feel that love, because you're barren, and all you have is your lies."

The room froze. Leila's eyes widened with a bit of confusion, her hand clutching her chest. "You little-"

"Enough!" Celine's voice sliced through, her sharp features contorted as she pushed forward.

"You ungrateful wretch! After everything Blake's done-giving you a roof, clothes, food you couldn't afford-you dare insult us?"

"Afford?" I turned on her, voice cold. "Everything Blake has-his penthouse, his deals, his life-came from money you don't even know about. You think I'm here for his scraps? I don't need them. I never did."

Celine's face flushed, but I didn't stop. I faced Blake, heart pounding, words like knives.

"I loved you, Blake. I gave up my world for you. And you made me your dirty secret, let your mother call me a leech, let your wife mock me and above all, you let them take my son away from me."

The crowd whispered, shocked. Blake's face paled.

"Rosette, what are you talking about? What son? You're not-"

"You don't get it," I said, voice breaking but fierce.

"You won't, not yet. But I remember everything. The pain, the betrayal, everything! They killed him, Blake, and you let them!"

Leila laughed, shrill and forced.

"You're insane! You're delusional. You think you can ruin my night with your fake stories? What the hell are you even talking about?! Rosette, you better get

your shitty self out of here this moment!"

I laughed. "Sure, I'm delusional because you don't understand yet. But remember this, you'll never be a mother, and deep down, you know this already and it eats you alive."

She lunged, hand raised, but I sidestepped, her swing missing. "Touch me," I warned, "and you'll regret it."

Blake reached for me, voice desperate.

"Rosette, please. Stop this nonsense. Let's talk in private. I love you and I always have."

"Love?" I spat. "You chose her. You chose their lies, their status, their control. You let them destroy me, Blake. You don't get to claim love now."

Celine's voice was ice.

"If you're leaving, you take nothing. Not a single thing Blake gave you-not the coat, not the shoes you're not even wearing. You walk out as the pauper you are."

I smirked, yanking the coat off and tossing it at Blake's feet. It landed with a soft thud.

"Keep your rags. I don't need them. I'm done with you bastards."

Leila's voice trembled with rage. "You think you can just walk away? You're a nobody, Rosette! You have nothing!"

"Watch me," I said, turning to the elevator. The crowd parted, silent. Blake's voice followed, pleading.

"Rosette, don't."

The elevator doors opened, and I stepped in, heart racing but satisfied.

The doors began to close, but a figure slipped through at the last second-a man, tall, shadowed, and in suits.

He moved fast, too fast, and the doors shut, trapping us together.

"Who are you?" I demanded, voice sharp, hand gripping my purse like a weapon.

His eyes glinted in the dim light, "Someone who knows who you are. I've come to take you home."

Blake's point of view~~

The penthouse pulsed with the energy of success-my success.

Leila, my wife, glowed under the spotlight, her latest movie selling out theaters, her platinum blonde hair catching every light.

My mother stood nearby, her smug smile a reminder of how we'd clawed our way to the top. Everything was perfect, exactly as I'd planned-until she walked in.

Rosette. My Rosette, or at least the girl she used to be. Barefoot, hospital gown peeking from a coat, her dark brown hair a wild mess, violet eyes burning with something I didn't recognize. Rage? Madness?

The crowd went silent, and my stomach twisted. What the hell was she doing here?

"Rosette?" My voice came out sharp, cutting through the hush. I set my whiskey down, my grip tight on the glass. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be at home."

"Home?" Her laugh was loud, raw, like a blade slicing through the room. "You mean the cage you keep me in while you flaunt your wife?"

Leila stepped forward, her emerald eyes glinting. She spat harsh words at her and to my surprise, Rosette fired back at her.

My jaw clenched, irritation flaring. She was ruining everything. "Rosette, stop. This isn't the place-"

"It's the perfect place," she cut me off, her voice rising, those violet eyes locked on mine like they could burn through me.

"Right here, in front of your precious guests, I'm ending this. I'm done with you, Blake McCain. Done with your cowardice."

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Leila's face twisted, her voice sharp as she called Rosette a nobody. Yes, that was what she was.

"Nobody?" Rosette's laugh was cold, biting. "I'm anything but a nobody to that bastard you call a husband, Leila."

My heart stuttered, but not from guilt. Rosette had been my college sweetheart, the girl who'd looked at me like I was the sun. Back then, I'd loved her-really loved her. We'd met in a lecture hall, her smile bright, her laughter infectious. She'd been everything I wanted, everything I thought I needed.

But when the money started rolling in, when my name became synonymous with power, my mother helped me realise something I never knew.

Rosette was a gold-digger, clinging to me for what I could give her. She had nothing-no name, no wealth, just a pretty face and a sob story.

Then I met Leila, a star in her own right, glamorous, connected, the perfect match for a man like me.

Rosette became a liability, a reminder of a weaker version of myself. So I kept her on the side, made her my mistress, gave her the privilege of staying in my world, because I liked the way she looked at me-like I was still that college kid she'd loved. But my love for her? That was long gone.

Rosette's voice pulled me back, sharp as a whip.

"I loved you, Blake. I gave up my world for you. And you made me your dirty secret, let your mother call me a leech, let your wife mock me, and above all, you let them take my son away from me."

Son? What the hell was she talking about? She wasn't pregnant. This was insanity.

"Rosette, what are you talking about? What son? You're not-"

"You don't get it," she said, her voice breaking but fierce, those eyes boring into me. "You won't, not yet. But I remember everything. The pain, the betrayal, everything! They killed him, Blake, and you let them!"

Leila laughed, shrill and forced. "You're insane! Delusional! You think you can ruin my night with your fake stories? What the fuck are you even talking about? Get your shitty self out of here, Rosette!"

Leila was right and I was starting to realise what this all was about. She probably needed more money, recognition, more of my attention. If not, what would make her come to sabotage our party?

Rosette's lips curled, her voice low, deadly. "Sure, I'm delusional because you don't understand yet. But remember this, Leila-you'll never be a mother, and deep down, you know it eats you alive."

That again. Where was she getting all this claims from?

Leila lunged at her and she dodged, her eyes filled with rage.

My mother's voice cut through, icy and commanding, calling her ungrateful. Indeed, she was ungrateful. After everything I've done for her and this what she's paying me with?

Rosette turned on her, her voice colder than I'd ever heard. "Everything Blake has-his penthouse, his deals, his life-came from money you don't even know about. You think I'm here for his scraps? I don't need them. I never did."

My mother's face flushed, her eyes narrowing. "You're nothing, Rosette. Nothing!"

Rosette faced me again, her words like knives. "I loved you, Blake. I gave up my world for you. And you made me your dirty secret, let your mother call me a leech, let your wife mock me while I carried your child."

The crowd whispered, their eyes darting between us. My mind reeled. She was losing it, spouting nonsense.

I'd turned a blind eye when my mother criticized her, when Leila humiliated her. It was easier that way. Rosette was a possession, a trophy I kept because she adored me. But now, standing here, making a fool of me in front of everyone, she was a problem.

"Rosette, please," I said, my voice softer, trying to salvage this. "Let's talk in private. I love you. I always have."

The words were empty, and I knew it. I didn't love her-not anymore. I liked the way she made me feel, the way her eyes lit up for me and me alone.

Losing her was like losing a prized asset, nothing more. But I couldn't let her walk away like this, not in front of everyone.

"Love?" She spat the word, her eyes blazing. "You chose her. You chose their lies, their status, their control. You let them destroy me, Blake. You don't get to claim love now."

Sooner than I expected, she was leaving. She didn't look back. The elevator doors opened, and she stepped inside.

I caught a glimpse of her face-fierce, unbroken-before a shadowed figure slipped in with her. The doors shut, and she was gone.

The room erupted in whispers.

Leila grabbed my arm, her nails digging in. "What the hell was that, Blake? She's lost her mind! Talking about a child, about me being barren? You need to fix this!"

I pulled away, irritation spiking. "Fix what, Leila? She's gone. Let her go."

My mother stepped closer, her voice low. "She's trouble, Blake. Always has been. You should've cut her off years ago. She's just a gold-digger throwing a tantrum."

I nodded, but my mind was elsewhere. Rosette's words echoed-they killed him, and you let them. She was crazy, right? There was no child. But the way she'd looked at me, like she knew something, gnawed at me.

"Let's get back to the party," I said, forcing a smile. "She's not worth it."

Leila huffed, tossing her hair. "She's nothing. Never was."

But as the music started again, the crowd's eyes lingered on me, judging. I hated it. Rosette had humiliated me, and I'd let her.

She was supposed to stay quiet, stay mine. Now she was gone, and I felt... nothing. Just the sting of losing something I'd owned.

~~~~~~~

Days later, I was driving to a meeting, the city's skyline a blur outside my Bentley. My phone buzzed, an unknown number.

"Who's this?" I answered, impatient.

"Mr. McCain? This is Dr. Harris from City General Hospital. I'm calling about Rosette Jenner. She came in a few days ago for a check-up. She's pregnant-six weeks along. We asked her to come in yesterday for further tests; her condition is concerning. She didn't show, and we couldn't reach her. Since you're listed as her spouse, we're hoping you can inform her to come in. It's urgent."

My hands froze on the wheel. Pregnant? Rosette?

My mind spun, her words from the party crashing back. I carried your child... they killed him.

No. It couldn't be. She was lying, delusional. But the doctor's voice was steady, certain.

My chest tightened, a flicker of something-guilt?-creeping in. I'd ignored her, let my mother and Leila tear her down. Had she been telling the truth?

"Mr. McCain? Are you there?"

"Yeah," I muttered, my voice hoarse. "I'll... I'll tell her."

I hung up, my thoughts a mess. Pregnant. My child. I'd loved her once, hadn't I? But she'd been a leech, a nobody. Or had she?

My mother's voice, Leila's taunts-they'd shaped how I saw her. What if-

A horn blared. I swerved, too late. My car slammed

into a truck, metal screeching, glass shattering. Pain exploded through me, and then-darkness.

I woke to beeping machines, my body aching, my head foggy.

The hospital room was stark, sterile. A woman sat beside me, her platinum blonde hair tied up, her face streaked with tears, her hand gripping mine. My mother stood at the foot of the bed, her expression tight. She looked older.

"Blake, thank God," the woman sobbed, leaning closer. "You've been out for days. We were so worried."

I blinked, her face unfamiliar. Her voice, her touch-none of it registered.

"Who... who are you?"

Her eyes widened, her hand freezing. "What? Blake, it's me. Leila. Your wife."

"Wife?" I frowned, my mind blank. I didn't know

her.

My mother stepped forward, "Blake, don't be ridiculous. You've been in an accident. You're confused."

But I wasn't listening. My mind was somewhere else, somewhere warm. Last thing I remember was being in a lecture hall, a girl with violet eyes and a laugh that made my heart race.

"Rosette," I whispered. "Where's Rosette?"

The woman's face twisted, her voice shrill. "Rosette? You're asking for her? After everything she did at the party?"

I shook my head, confused. "Party? I... I don't remember. I need to see Rosette. Is she still at. college?"

My mother's eyes narrowed. "College? She's gone, Blake. What's wrong with you? Someone get the doctor immediately!"

Gone? No, she can't leave me.

Rosette's face was all I could see, her warm smile, her voice saying she loved me.

Nothing else made sense. Not the woman claiming to be my wife, not my cold-eyed mother looking confused like I was a whole different person. Only Rosette. And I had to find her.