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

The VIP Intensive Care waiting area was so quiet you could hear the hum of the air purifiers.

The cast and team of The Empress’s Shadow sat on comfortable beige leather sofas, entirely stripped of their digital lifelines. Without their phones, they looked like a group of stranded aliens trying to figure out how to operate their own hands.

The double doors at the end of the hall clicked open.

Dr. Elias Thorne walked out.

He looked exactly like a Chief Medical Officer who had spent the last seventy-two hours fighting a losing battle against the Grim Reaper. His white coat was slightly wrinkled, his posture was slumped, and his eyes carried the heavy, haunted weight of a man delivering a death sentence.

In reality, Elias was just deeply, profoundly tired of participating in his best friend’s wife’s theatrics.

He stopped in front of the group.

”I won’t sugarcoat this,” Elias began, his voice a flat, deadpan monotone that they immediately interpreted as severe medical sorrow. ”The trauma Mrs. Sinclair sustained was catastrophic.”

Bella brought a hand to her mouth, her eyes widening in perfectly practiced horror. ”Doctor... please. Tell us she’s going to wake up.”

Elias thought of the script Aria had handed him. He resisted the urge to sigh.

”She has suffered irreversible neural decay,” Elias stated, delivering the line with absolute, crushing finality. He let his voice drop just a fraction on the word irreversible. ”Her body is functioning, but her brain activity has flatlined. There is a zero percent chance of her ever waking up.”

The reaction was instantaneous.

Bella let out a choked, dramatic sob, burying her face in Lucas’s shoulder. Lucas looked legitimately nauseous, his skin turning a pale, sickly shade of green as he stared at the doctor.

In the back, Leo let out a sharp, ragged gasp. He pulled his bucket hat down over his eyes, his shoulders instantly beginning to shake as he broke into quiet, genuine sobs. Coco wrapped his arms around the young actor, his eyes filling with bright, unshed tears as he clutched his white roses.

”You may go in and pay your respects,” Elias said, stepping aside. ”But keep it brief.”

Zoe led the procession down the hall.

When they stepped into ICU Room 1, the atmosphere was suffocating.

The room was dim, illuminated mostly by the erratic, rhythmic flashing of the altered medical monitors. Aria lay in the center of the room, looking like a tragic, beautiful ghost.

Zoe’s makeup skills were terrifyingly accurate; the pale contouring and white setting powder made Aria look completely hollowed out, her skin basically translucent against the stark white hospital sheets. The plastic oxygen mask covered her mouth, fogging slightly with her shallow, mechanical breaths.

It was an Oscar-worthy performance. She lay completely, terrifyingly still.

But the most intimidating part of the room wasn’t the medical equipment. It was the human wall.

Six massive, heavily armed private military contractors stood in a tight semicircle around the bed. They were positioned exactly six feet away from the mattress, their hands resting neutrally near the holsters on their thighs.

”Okay, everyone,” Zoe said, pulling her iPhone out and opening the camera app. She shifted into full director mode, her voice completely devoid of emotion. ”Gather at the foot of the bed. Look sad, but not ugly-sad. Think ’somber reflection’.”

Lucas stood rigidly at the foot of the bed, looking like he wanted to vomit. Coco quietly placed his bouquet of white roses on a small side table, entirely respecting the distance, before returning to hug a weeping Leo.

Bella, however, was not satisfied.

Standing six feet away at the foot of the bed wasn’t going to give her the tragic, intimate ’grieving sister’ photo she needed for the front page of Vogue. She needed contact. She needed to be seen holding the hand of the dying girl.

”Zoe, the lighting from here is terrible,” Bella started, stepping out of the group. ”I’m just going to move up to her side.”

Bella took two steps forward, crossing the invisible six-foot threshold. She reached her hand out toward the hospital bed.

She didn’t even make it a third step.

The lead mercenary moved with a speed that completely defied his massive size. He stepped directly into her path, his body forming an impenetrable wall between Bella and the mattress.

Click.

It was a small, sharp, terrifying sound. The guard’s hand had dropped to his holster, unstrapping the safety mechanism on his Glock.

”Step back, ma’am,” the operative rumbled. ”Crossing the six-foot perimeter will result in immediate neutralization.”

Bella froze.

She looked at the guard’s dead, soulless eyes. She looked at his hand resting casually on a deadly weapon. He wasn’t acting. He would absolutely drop her to the linoleum without a second thought.

All the color drained from Bella’s face. She scrambled backward so fast she nearly tripped over her designer heels, practically throwing herself behind Lucas for cover.

”S-Sorry,” Bella squeaked, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs. ”I just... I wanted to hold her hand.”

”The perimeter is closed,” the guard repeated, stepping back to his post but keeping his hand hovering near his hip.

Aria, lying perfectly still beneath the oxygen mask, fought the absolute hardest battle of her life to keep from breaking character and smiling. ’I love my husband’s employees,’ she thought gleefully.

”Right. Okay. From the foot of the bed it is,” Zoe announced loudly, breaking the terrifying tension. ”Look at the camera. On three. One... two... three.”

Snap. Snap. Snap.

Zoe took a dozen rapid-fire photos, capturing the absolute terror on Bella’s face masquerading as grief, Lucas’s sickening guilt, and the genuine heartbreak of Leo and Coco.

”Got it,” Zoe said, lowering the phone. ”I’ll AirDrop these to your teams downstairs.”

Director Spielberg cleared his throat, stepping forward slightly, though making sure his toes didn’t even twitch toward the six-foot line. He clasped his hands together, putting on his best, most pompous ’Hollywood visionary’ face.

”Aria,” the Director began, speaking to the comatose girl with theatrical gravity. ”I want you to know... we are dedicating The Empress’s Shadow to you. Your performance will echo in eternity. You will not be forgotten.”

It was a hollow, sickeningly rehearsed PR speech designed entirely to make him look good.

He opened his mouth to continue his monologue, but an electronic click echoed from the entrance of the room.

The frosted glass doors slid open.

Everyone froze, turning their heads toward the sound. Bella visibly straightened her posture, pasting on her most sympathetic, alluring expression, fully preparing to ambush the lethal, terrifying Demon King she had begun fantasizing about.

Damien Sinclair stood in the doorway.

He closed his eyes, taking a slow, heavy breath. For a fraction of a second, his mind flashed back to the night before, reminding him why he was doing this.

Aria had taken his hand and boldly slipped it directly underneath the hem of the white ribbed crop top, pressing his palm flat against her bare left breast.

”Do this for me,” Aria had murmured. ”And I’ll reward you.”

Damien had smirked, his long fingers flexing instinctively to squeeze her soft flesh. ”What’s the reward?”

Aria had leaned forward, biting her lower lip seductively before bringing her mouth right to his ear. ”Do it, and you’ll find out after.”

Damien was a man who never, under any circumstances, signed blank checks. He demanded terms. He demanded guarantees. But feeling her heartbeat racing beneath his palm, his curiosity had easily gotten the better of him.

He had agreed to grant her request.

Damien opened his eyes.

A single, perfectly timed tear slipped from his left eye, tracking slowly down his cheekbone. It was the absolute best he could do for his acting debut.

He had shed the terrifying, untouchable aura that usually suffocated every room he entered. His suit jacket was missing. His tie was gone. His white dress shirt was unbuttoned at the collar and visibly wrinkled.

But it was his face that knocked the breath out of the room.

Damien’s broad shoulders were slumped. His golden eyes, usually sharp and calculating, were completely hollowed out—dull, lifeless, and brimming with a devastating, earth-shattering grief.

He looked like a man who had watched his entire universe burn to the ground and was simply waiting for the smoke to suffocate him.

It was a masterclass in method acting. The ultimate favor Aria had asked of him.

Bella’s predatory smile faltered. Lucas swallowed hard.

Damien didn’t even look at them. He walked slowly, right past the guards.

He sank into the plastic chair beside Aria’s bed.

With trembling, perfectly choreographed hesitation, Damien reached out and gently took Aria’s pale, lifeless hand in his. He brought her knuckles to his lips, closing his eyes as a single, shuddering breath escaped his chest.

”I’m here, my love,” Damien whispered, his voice cracking with absolute, raw agony.