After Rebirth, I Became My Ex's Aunt-in-Law

The speakerphone on Aria’s device wasn’t particularly loud, but in the claustrophobic space behind the set wall, Damien’s voice sounded like thunder rolling in from a distant, violent storm.

”Lucas,” the voice rasped, distorted slightly by the connection but unmistakable in its menace. ”I wasn’t aware you had a death wish.”

Lucas flinched so hard he hit his head against a lighting rig. He stared at the phone in Aria’s hand as if it were a live grenade.

”Uncle?” Lucas stammered, his face draining of color. ”I... I didn’t know she called you. We were just... rehearsing.”

”Rehearsing?” Damien’s laugh was dry and mirthless. ”Is ’begging for attention’ part of the script now? Because from where I’m sitting—watching the security feed of Studio 4—it looks like you have my fiancée cornered in a dark alleyway.”

Lucas’s eyes darted up to the ceiling, searching frantically for the cameras he had forgotten existed.

”It’s a misunderstanding!” Lucas insisted, though he took a hasty step back, putting distance between himself and Aria. ”Aria is... she’s confused, Uncle. She’s acting out because she’s hurt. I was just trying to help her see reason!”

Aria didn’t speak. She just held the phone out, her expression bored, letting Damien handle the dog he owned.

”Confused,” Damien repeated, testing the word. ”You think the woman who just humiliated you in front of a fifty-person crew is confused? You think the woman wearing my ring is secretly pining for a boy who still needs an allowance to pay his rent?”

The insult landed with a dull thud. Lucas’s jaw tightened.

”I am not a boy,” Lucas muttered, a flash of petulant anger returning. ”I am the male lead of this production. I am a Sinclair.”

”You are a Sinclair because I allow you to be,” Damien’s voice dropped, turning ice-cold. ”And right now, you are very close to becoming a ’Doe’. Do you understand me, Nephew?”

The threat hung in the air. Everyone knew that without the Sinclair name, Lucas was just a pretty face with mediocre acting skills. His endorsements, his scripts, his car—they all flowed from the main branch. From Damien.

”I understand,” Lucas whispered, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

”Good,” Damien said. ”Now, step away from my wife. If you touch her again, I won’t sue you. I won’t fire you. I will simply remove your name from the family trust. You can see how much Bella loves you when you’re waiting tables.”

Lucas looked at Aria one last time. His eyes were a storm of humiliation, desire, and impotent rage.

”This isn’t over, Aria,” he hissed under his breath, too low for the phone to pick up. ”He doesn’t love you. He just wants to win.”

Then, he turned and stormed off, disappearing into the maze of the set.

Aria watched him go, then brought the phone back to her ear.

”You really enjoy threatening him, don’t you?” she asked.

”It’s the only language he speaks,” Damien replied. The anger in his voice had receded, replaced by a low, simmering tension. ”Are you alright?”

”I’m fine. He’s harmless. Just annoying.”

”He’s not harmless,” Damien corrected darkly. ”He’s desperate. Desperate men do stupid things. Get to the car, Aria. I’m waiting outside.”

The ride to the restaurant was silent, but it wasn’t the comfortable silence of the morning. It was charged. Damien was driving again, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. He drove aggressively, weaving through the evening traffic with a precision that bordered on reckless.

Aria watched him. She could see the tension in his jaw, the way a muscle feathered near his ear.

”You’re angry,” she stated.

”I’m not angry,” Damien said, shifting gears with a sharp snap. ”I’m territorial. There is a difference.”

”He didn’t hurt me, Damien. I had a needle in my hand the whole time. If he had tried anything, he would be waking up on the floor with a numb arm.”

”I know,” Damien glanced at her. ”I saw the glint. But that’s not the point. He thinks he has a claim on you. He thinks because he knew you first, because he... had you first... that he can just walk back into your life.”

Aria paused. She looked out the window. ”He never ’had’ me, Damien.”

The car swerved slightly. Damien corrected it instantly, slowing down as they approached a red light. He turned to her, his golden eyes searching her face.

”What does that mean?”

Aria met his gaze. ”It means we never... did anything. We dated for two years, but it was chaste. Public appearances. Dinners. Holding hands. He was always ’too busy’ or ’waiting for the right moment’. In hindsight, he was just busy sleeping with Bella.”

She shrugged, a bitter smile touching her lips.

”So, no. He doesn’t know me. He doesn’t know what I look like when I wake up. He doesn’t know how I take my coffee. He definitely doesn’t know what I taste like.”

She looked at Damien, her emerald eyes bold.

”You’re the only one who knows that.”

The air in the car evaporated.

Damien stared at her. The traffic light turned green, but he didn’t move. Horns blared behind them.

”Drive, Mr. Sinclair,” Aria whispered, her heart pounding. ”People are watching.”

Damien turned back to the road and punched the accelerator. The Rolls Royce surged forward like a beast unleashed.

”We’re skipping dinner,” he growled.

”What? But I’m hungry!”

”We’ll order in,” Damien said, taking a sharp turn toward the penthouse district. ”Right now, I need to get you behind a locked door before I decide to drive back to the studio and break your ex-fiancé’s legs.”

Aria gripped the door handle as the car sped up. She should be scared. A normal woman would be scared of a man this volatile, this possessive.

But Aria Vale wasn’t normal. She was a woman who had died cold and alone.

Feeling the heat of Damien’s jealousy radiating off him... it made her feel alive.

”Fine,” she said, leaning back. ”But order the lobster again. I didn’t get to finish it last time.”

Damien let out a short, rough laugh. He reached over, grabbing her hand and lacing his fingers through hers, squeezing tight enough to bruise, but careful enough not to.

”You can have whatever you want, Aria,” he promised. ”As long as you stay right here.”

Meanwhile, in a dimly lit dressing room back at the studio, Lucas Sinclair was pacing.

He had kicked a chair over. He had thrown a vase of flowers against the wall. But the rage wasn’t subsiding.

’He treats me like a dog,’ Lucas thought, his hands shaking. ’He thinks he can just buy her and forbid me from speaking to her? She was mine first!’

The door opened. Bella walked in, still wearing her white Saintess costume. She looked tired, her eyes wary.

”Lucas?” she asked softly. ”Are you okay? I heard shouting.”

Lucas stopped pacing. He looked at Bella. Really looked at her.

She was beautiful, yes. But she looked weak. Common. She looked like exactly what she was—a mistress’s daughter trying to play a queen.

Then he thought of Aria in the black-and-gold robes, sitting on the throne, looking down at him with those cold, terrifying emerald eyes. The way she had touched his chest. The power radiating off her.

”I’m fine,” Lucas lied, his voice hollow.

”Did you talk to her?” Bella asked, stepping closer, putting a hand on his arm. ”Did you tell her to stop this madness?”

”She won’t listen,” Lucas said, pulling his arm away. ”She’s... obsessed with him. Or he’s brainwashed her.”

He walked to the mirror, staring at his own reflection. He saw the fear in his own eyes.

”Bella,” he said suddenly. ”We need to step up our game. If we just rely on acting, she’s going to eat us alive. She’s better than us.”

Bella stiffened. ”She is not better! She’s just flashy! Once Mom comes back—”

”Your mother isn’t here!” Lucas snapped. ”We need to do something now.”

He lowered his voice, a dark idea forming in his mind.

”Tomorrow is the scene with the horses. The Imperial Hunt.”

Bella’s eyes widened. ”Yes. Aria has to ride the black stallion.”

”Uncle Damien won’t be on set tomorrow,” Lucas whispered. ”He has a shareholders meeting. He can’t protect her if an accident happens.”

He looked at Bella in the reflection.

”Horses are unpredictable animals, Bella. Sometimes... they get spooked.”

A slow, cruel smile spread across Bella’s face. The ”Saintess” vanished completely.

”You’re right, Lucas,” she purred. ”It would be such a tragedy if the Demon Consort fell from her high horse.”