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

The dinner ended not with a toast, but with a dismissal.

Grandfather Sinclair dabbed his mouth with a linen napkin, dropped it onto his pristine plate, and stood up. The movement was a signal. Chairs scraped back all around the table as the extended family rose in unison, like well-trained soldiers.

”The ladies will retire to the Blue Drawing Room,” Grandfather announced, his gaze sliding dismissively over Aria. ”Catherine, please ensure everyone is comfortable. Diana, try not to drink the cellar dry.”

He turned to the men.

”Gentlemen. The Library. We have business to discuss regarding the Tower Lease.”

Lucas stood up immediately, buttoning his suit jacket and adjusting his cuffs, trying to look like a serious stakeholder.

”Sit down, boy,” Grandfather Sinclair snapped without looking at him.

Lucas froze. ”Grandfather?”

”The Library is for the men who generate revenue, not the ones who spend it,” Grandfather said coldly. ”Go to your room. Memorize your lines. Or whatever it is you young people do in your free time.”

”But I’m a Sinclair!” Lucas protested, his voice cracking.

”Yes, quite unfortunately,” Grandfather Sinclair muttered. ”Goodnight, Lucas.”

Lucas turned a shade of red that matched the wine. He sank back into his chair, humiliated, as the real power players turned to leave.

Catherine stood up, smoothing her beige dress. She looked at Aria with a sickly-sweet smile, trying to salvage the evening. ”Come along, Aria. We can talk about... fabrics. I’m sure you have a lot to say.”

Aria stood up. The gold dress shimmered, the faces of Damien staring out from every angle.

”That sounds delightful, Catherine,” Aria said. ”But I’m afraid I have a prior engagement.”

”Prior engagement?” Diana scoffed, steadying herself on the table, her eyes glassy with wine. ”You’re in a mansion in the middle of nowhere. Where could you possibly go?”

”The Library,” Aria said matter-of-factly.

She walked around the table, ignoring the gasps. She stopped next to Damien, slipping her hand into the crook of his arm.

”Shall we, darling?”

Damien looked down at her. He saw the challenge in her eyes. He smiled.

”We shall.”

”You cannot be serious,” Grandfather Sinclair barked from the doorway, turning back when he realized the procession had stalled. ”The Library is for family business. It is a closed session. Gentlemen only.”

”I own 20% of Vale Entertainment, which is currently negotiating a merger with Sinclair Media,” Aria said, her voice crisp and professional. ”I am a shareholder. A partner. And well... I am sleeping with the CEO. I think that qualifies me.”

She began to walk, pulling Damien with her.

The library was a magnificent room—many stories of books, a spiral staircase, and a massive fireplace that roared with heat. In the center sat a heavy oak desk and several leather armchairs that looked like they had absorbed a century of cigar smoke and secrets.

Aria didn’t wait to be seated. She walked straight to the main desk—Grandfather Sinclair’s desk—and sat on the edge of it.

She crossed her legs, the gold dress riding up slightly, and picked up a crystal decanter of scotch.

”Nice office,” she noted, pouring herself a glass. ”Smells like patriarchy and cigars.”

Grandfather Sinclair stormed in, followed by the baffled uncles.

”Get off my desk!” he roared.

”No,” Aria said, taking a sip. ”Now, about this lease. You’re threatening to evict Sinclair Corp unless Damien bows to your will. Is that correct?”

”It is a matter of respect!” Grandfather slammed his hand on a side table. ”He has forgotten who built this foundation!”

”He built the tower,” Aria corrected. ”You just own the dirt.”

She set the glass down.

”And speaking of dirt... I was doing some light reading recently. Public records. Tax filings. Boring stuff, really.”

She smiled. It was a cold, sharp expression.

In her past life, the Sinclair Family Trust scandal had been the headline of the year in 2026. The revelation that the Trust hadn’t donated a dime to charity since 2015, despite their tax-exempt status relying on a ’Charitable Giving’ clause, had destroyed the Sinclair reputation and nearly bankrupted the estate with back taxes.

”Did you know, Grandpa, that the Trust hasn’t made a single charitable donation since 2015?” Aria asked casually, inspecting her nails. ”That’s nine years of tax fraud. You’ve been funneling the required 15% into offshore accounts to pay for the upkeep of this drafty castle.”

The uncles gasped, exchanging terrified looks. Grandfather Sinclair went pale.

”How... how dare you accuse—”

”If I leak that to the IRS,” Aria interrupted, her voice dropping to a whisper, ”the Trust loses its status immediately. The back taxes alone would bankrupt the estate. You’d have to sell the land to pay the government.”

She leaned forward.

”And guess who would buy it?”

She pointed to Damien, who was leaning against a bookshelf, watching her with a look of pure, unadulterated pride.

”He would,” Aria said. ”For pennies on the dollar.”

She hopped off the desk.

”So, here is the deal. You sign the lease renewal. Tonight. For ninety-nine years. At a fixed rate of one dollar per year.”

”That’s extortion!” Grandfather wheezed.

”So what?” Aria questioned with a smirk. She picked up a pen and held it out to him. ”Sign it. Or I make a phone call to a reporter friend of mine who would love a good tax scandal.”

Grandfather looked at her. He looked at Damien. He looked at his terrified sons who were silently pleading with him to sign before they lost their inheritances.

He snatched the pen.

He signed the document with a furious scratch.

”There,” he spat, throwing the pen down. ”Are you happy? You’ve desecrated my study. You’ve humiliated my family.”

”I saved your family,” Aria said, picking up the document and handing it to Damien. ”From itself.”

She walked back to Damien.

”Done?” she asked him.

”Done,” Damien confirmed, folding the lease and putting it in his pocket.

”Good,” Aria said. ”Because I’m bored of old men. Take me back to the room. I’m sure we can come up with more exciting things to do.”

She walked out of the library, leaving the Sinclair men standing in the wreckage of their dignity.

Damien followed her, pausing at the door to look back at his grandfather.

”She’s right, you know,” Damien said. ”You really should start donating to charity.”

He closed the door.

In the hallway, the silence was absolute. Aria didn’t stop moving, her gold dress swishing against the floor.

Damien caught up to her in two strides. He grabbed her arm, spinning her around and pressing her back against the cool wall of the corridor. His eyes were blazing.

”You just blackmailed the entire Sinclair Trust in under five minutes,” he murmured, his voice thick with arousal. ”Without a lawyer. Without a team.”

”I pay attention,” Aria breathed, her heart hammering as his body pressed against hers. ”Details matter.”

Damien’s grip tightened on her waist.

”I’m so turned on right now,” he growled.