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

”Handling my husband is my specialty,” Aria had boasted to Zoe a few hours ago.

Now, pacing the length of ICU Room 1 in a white ribbed crop top, fluffy pink lounge shorts, and matching fuzzy Croc sandals, Aria realized she was all talk.

She chewed aggressively on her thumbnail, her Crocs squeaking softly against the linoleum.

She had the perfect PR strategy. It was flawless. The internet thought she was a broken, battered victim, and she was going to lean into that narrative so hard. Letting the cast and crew of The Empress’s Shadow visit her tomorrow to play out their fake sympathies was a necessary evil.

The problem was the six-foot-three, overprotective, hyper-lethal hurdle standing between her and that plan.

Damien had basically declared martial law on this hospital wing. How on earth was she going to convince him to let the very people who had made her life a living hell waltz right into her recovery room?

Aria was in the middle of mentally drafting a persuasive PowerPoint presentation when the glass doors slid open.

Damien walked in.

He had ditched his suit jacket and rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. In his hands, he carried two large, heavy brown paper bags that smelled immediately, intoxicatingly, of toasted sesame oil, garlic, and high-end soy sauce.

”I bought half the menu from Hakkasan,” Damien announced, using his foot to kick the door shut. ”I wasn’t sure if you wanted the dim sum or the peking duck, so I just ordered everything.”

He set the heavy bags down on the bedside table and walked straight toward her. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulled her flush against his chest, and pressed a firm, lingering kiss to her lips.

Aria kissed him back automatically, her hands resting on his chest, but her body remained rigid.

Damien pulled back slowly. His golden eyes, which had been warm and relaxed a second ago, narrowed instantly.

”Why is your heart beating so fast?” Damien asked. He stepped back, his gaze sweeping over her tense posture. ”You look nervous.”

Aria crossed her arms over her crop top, suddenly finding the blank white wall above his head incredibly fascinating.

”Elias came by,” Aria started, her voice a little too high-pitched. ”He said I can go home tomorrow.”

”I know,” Damien said, a genuine, relieved smile touching his lips. He moved to sit on the edge of the mattress, resting his hands on his knees. ”Ken already forwarded me the discharge papers. We’re going home tomorrow morning.”

Aria swallowed hard. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

”Actually,” Aria muttered, averting her eyes to the floor. ”I... I can’t leave yet. I want to stay another day.”

The smile vanished from Damien’s face.

The silence in the room suddenly felt heavy.

Damien went perfectly still.

He watched her carefully—the way she avoided his gaze, the slight hunch of her shoulders, the defensive way her arms were crossed tight over her chest.

Damien stood up from the bed.

He closed the short distance between them.

Right in the middle of the hospital room, wearing a bespoke suit that cost more than a luxury sedan, the Demon King of New York sank directly to his knees.

Aria gasped as she looked down at him in absolute shock.

Damien settled on his knees right in front of her. He reached out, his large, warm hands gently enveloping her smaller ones, uncrossing her arms and pulling her hands down.

He tilted his head back to look up at her.

”Aria,” Damien said softly, his golden eyes completely stripped of their usual dark, demanding edge. ”You are looking at me like you expect me to scream at you.”

”I don’t—”

”I never want you to be afraid of me,” Damien interrupted, his voice a low, rough vow that made her heart ache. ”I am your husband. Not your warden. If you want to stay in this terrible, uncomfortable bed for another week, we will. I just want to know why you look so terrified to tell me.”

Aria stared down at him.

The sheer, overwhelming weight of his love hit her like a tidal wave.

Aria let out a shaky breath.

She dropped to the linoleum floor right in front of him, their knees bumping together. She squeezed his hands, locking her emerald eyes with his, and let the truth spill out of her in one long, frantic rush.

”The cast and production team of The Empress’s Shadow want to visit me tomorrow,” Aria blurted out breathlessly.

”The internet is destroying them because they excluded me from the promo, so they want to do a fake, supportive PR stunt with flowers. I want to play along. I want to play the tragic, bedridden victim so I can absolutely nuke their narrative at the red carpet premiere in nine days. I already told Zoe to approve the visit. That’s why I need to stay here another day.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself.

She waited for the explosion. She waited for him to tell her it was too dangerous, that he wasn’t letting those vultures anywhere near her.

”Okay.”

Aria kept her eyes squeezed shut. ”I know they’re toxic, Damien, and I know you hate them, but this is the ultimate revenge—wait, what?”

She snapped her eyes open.

Damien was watching her, an amused, incredibly fond smile curving his lips.

”Did you just say okay?” Aria asked, completely baffled.

”I did,” Damien nodded, his thumbs stroking the backs of her hands.

”Just like that?”

”Aria, I trust you implicitly,” Damien said smoothly, not a single ounce of hesitation in his voice. ”If you want to play a psychological game of chess with those idiots, I will gladly set up the board for you.”

He leaned in, his expression turning sharp with a protective, lethal edge.

”However, I do not trust them. So, while you play dead, I am setting a ground rule. My men will be in this room. And if anyone, especially Bella or my nephew, steps within a six-foot radius of this bed, my contractors have full authorization to draw their weapons.”

Aria let out a delighted laugh. She threw her arms around his neck, launching her body forward and tackling him.

Damien grunted as he caught her, wrapping his arms securely around her waist to keep them both from tumbling over. Aria kissed him.

”I love you,” she mumbled against his lips, rubbing her nose affectionately against his. ”You are literally the best husband in the entire world.”

”I love you too,” Damien chuckled.

He stood up, effortlessly pulling her up with him.

”Now,” Damien started, steering her toward the bed. ”Let’s eat before the duck gets cold.”

They spent the next ten minutes in a state of domestic bliss, unpacking the sleek, black takeout containers onto the bed. The smell of garlic noodles, steaming pork dumplings, and crispy peking duck filled the room.

Aria sat cross-legged, a pair of wooden chopsticks in her hand, happily chewing on a dumpling while Damien poured a dark soy glaze over his noodles.

She swallowed, wiping her mouth with a napkin. She looked at him, her eyes gleaming with a sudden, calculating spark.

”So,” Aria started casually, tapping her chopsticks against the plastic container. ”Since you are in such a supportive, understanding mood...”

Damien paused, his chopsticks hovering mid-air. He looked up at her, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

”What did you do?” he asked.

”Nothing!” Aria defended innocently. ”I just... I actually have a favor to ask.”

Damien set his food down, giving her his full, undivided attention.