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

Day Four on Jaguar Ridge broke with a tension that was palpable even through the humidity.

The drone didn’t buzz this morning. Instead, a flare shot up from the beach, painting a streak of red smoke across the pale blue sky.

”It’s time,” Aria said, zip-tying her boots. She looked like a soldier preparing for deployment, her face devoid of makeup, her rose-gold hair braided tight against her scalp.

Leo was bouncing on his heels, fueled by nervous energy and the lingering protein of the chicken leg Aria had smuggled him. Lucas sat on his log, staring at his hands. He looked broken. The realization that he wasn’t the hero of this story had settled deep in his bones, right next to the hunger pangs.

Bella was the last to stand. She looked feral. Her eyes were sunken, her lips chapped, but there was a manic glint in her gaze. She had nothing left to lose. Her ”Saintess” image was in tatters; winning was her only path to redemption.

”Walk to the beach,” Damien’s voice echoed from the distant speakers. ”Your ride is waiting.”

They hiked down in silence. When they emerged onto the white sand, they found a massive set piece constructed overnight.

It was a pyramid.

A towering, three-story structure made of scaffolding, wood, and climbing nets, designed to look like an ancient ruin. At the very top, gleaming in the sun, was a golden throne.

Damien stood at the base, flanked by two large men in black suits and a full camera crew. He wore sunglasses and held a stopwatch.

”Welcome to the finale,” Damien said, his voice carrying over the surf. ”The rules are simple. First one to sit in the chair wins. Anything goes. But no biting.”

He looked at Bella.

”Try not to fall, Saintess.”

”Ready?” Damien raised his hand. ”Go.”

The four of them sprinted.

Aria hit the cargo net first. She climbed with the efficiency of a spider, her muscles burning but responsive. Leo was right behind her, surprisingly agile for someone carrying a shark backpack.

Lucas struggled. He was weak from hunger and the previous day’s exertion with the sandbag. He slipped on the first rung, tangling his foot.

Bella didn’t climb immediately. She waited until Leo was ten feet up, then she grabbed his ankle and yanked.

”Hey!” Leo yelped, losing his grip. He tumbled down into the sand pit below.

”Sorry!” Bella shouted, not looking sorry at all. She scrambled up the net, using Leo’s fall as a distraction.

Aria was already on the second level—a balance beam over a mud pit. She moved across it quickly, arms out for balance.

She heard heavy breathing behind her. Bella had bypassed the safety protocols and was sprinting across the beam.

”You’re not winning this!” Bella screamed, lunging for Aria’s back.

Aria didn’t turn. She sensed the movement—the displacement of air, the frantic energy.

She dropped.

She crouched low on the beam, spinning on the ball of her foot. Bella’s momentum carried her forward, her hands grasping at empty air where Aria’s shoulders had been a second ago.

Bella flailed. She tried to grab Aria’s leg to save herself.

Aria slapped her hand away.

”Gravity, Bella,” Aria whispered. ”It’s a bitch.”

Bella fell.

She screamed as she plummeted into the mud pit below, landing with a wet, disgusting thwack.

”And the Saintess is down!” Damien’s voice commentated over the loudspeaker, sounding delighted. ”That’s going to be a great GIF.”

Aria stood up and finished the beam. She reached the final stage: a vertical rope climb.

She grabbed the rope. Her bandaged hands throbbed, the rough hemp digging into her healing palms. Pain shot up her arms.

’Pain is information,’ she reminded herself. ’It tells you you’re alive.’

She climbed. Hand over hand. Gritting her teeth.

Below her, Lucas had finally made it past the net. He looked up. He saw Aria struggling, saw the blood seeping through her bandages.

He looked at the rope next to her. He could try to catch her.

But then he looked at the command center. He saw Damien watching Aria with an intensity that burned brighter than the sun.

Lucas stopped. He let go of the rope.

”Go,” Lucas whispered, his voice lost in the wind. ”Just go.”

Aria didn’t hear him. She hauled herself over the final ledge.

The throne was right there.

She stood up, her chest heaving, sweat dripping down her face. She walked over to the golden chair and sat down.

She didn’t just sit. She posed. She crossed her legs, rested her chin on her hand, and looked directly into the jib camera swooping down toward her.

”Winner,” Damien announced. ”Aria Sinclair.”

Confetti cannons fired from the scaffolding, raining gold glitter over the beach.

Aria smiled at the lens.

”Lydia,” she whispered, knowing the microphones would pick it up. ”I hope you’re watching. This is just the trailer.”

The extraction was a blur of efficiency.

Bella and Lucas were loaded onto a standard production boat—the ”Loser’s Barge,” as Kai called it via text. Aria and Damien boarded the private helicopter.

As the chopper lifted off, banking away from the island, Aria pulled out her phone.

”Did you see the numbers?” she asked, scrolling through the live analytics.

Damien buckled her in. ”I saw them. You’re trending higher than the Super Bowl.”

”Bella is finished,” Aria said, tapping the screen. ”Look at the comments. ’Did the Saintess just push Leo?’ ’Bella is a snake.’ The brands are already distancing themselves. Celestia dropped her five minutes ago.”

She looked at Damien, a satisfied glint in her eyes. ”I didn’t just beat her, Damien. I demonetized her.”

”Ruthless,” Damien murmured, looking proud.

”Lydia released a statement claiming she is ’shocked’ by Bella’s behavior on the show. She threw her own daughter under the bus to save her reputation,” Aria said, pointing to a photo of Lydia leaving a hotel in dark glasses.

”Predictable,” Damien said. ”She’s cutting off the dead weight.”

Aria locked the phone and looked out the window at the approaching skyline of the capital.

”We go home,” she decided. ”We shower. We sleep. And then... we plan the movie premiere. If Lydia wants to play the ’Grieving Mother’ from Paris, I’m going to make sure the ’Scarlet Queen’ owns every red carpet in this city.”

Damien watched her. He saw the fire in her eyes, the way she had seamlessly transitioned from survival mode to war mode. He reached out, taking her hand.

”You really don’t need me, do you?” he asked, half-joking.

Aria looked at him. She squeezed his hand, her thumb brushing his knuckles.

”I need you to fly the helicopter,” she smiled softly. ”And... I need you to hold me when the adrenaline wears off.”

Damien leaned over, kissing the top of her head.

”That,” he whispered, ”I can do.”

The helicopter sped toward the city. The jungle was behind them. But the real sharks were waiting in the city.