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

Back in the penthouse, Aria did what any sane, twenty-year-old woman left entirely alone at home would do.

She blasted pop music, ate an unholy amount of snacks, and walked around completely naked.

Sabrina Carpenter’s ”Please Please Please” was currently echoing through the integrated surround-sound speakers of the master suite. Aria hadn’t left the bedroom and en-suite bathroom area for three solid hours. She was deeply committed to the sacred ritual of the ”everything shower.”

She had scrubbed every inch of her skin with a brown sugar exfoliant. She had meticulously shaved her intimate areas until she was smoother than a marble statue. She had applied a thick, expensive layer of shea body butter from her collarbones to her toes, clipped and painted her toenails a sharp, glossy oxblood red, and thoroughly moisturized her damp rose-gold hair before weaving it into a loose, comfortable braid over her shoulder.

She felt like a newly minted human being.

When she finally padded barefoot out of the master suite, the sheer, sprawling vastness of the penthouse greeted her.

She wandered toward the kitchen to find more fruit.

The space was completely pristine. The massive, imported Italian marble floors were gleaming, catching the afternoon sunlight pouring through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The air smelled sharply of industrial bleach, sterile disinfectant, and a heavy, sweet masking layer of lavender room spray.

Aria’s nose wrinkled slightly.

Damien’s cleaners had come through to scrub away the puddle of blood Diana had left behind.

Sitting squarely in the center of the spotless marble island was a small, sleek rectangular box.

Resting on top of the box was a thick, cream-colored cardstock note stamped with the Sinclair crest. The handwriting was sharp, elegant, and unmistakably Damien’s.

Encrypted. My contact is already saved.- D.

Aria grinned, tossing the note aside. She grabbed the box and pulled the lid off.

Nestled inside was a brand new, pristine white iPhone 16 Pro Max.

Damien really didn’t miss a single detail. The phone was already snapped into a sleek, matte red silicone case—her absolute favorite color. When she picked it up, the screen looked strangely dark from an angle; a high-end, edge-to-edge privacy screen protector had already been flawlessly installed without a single bubble.

Aria skipped into the living room. She hopped onto the plush, oversized white sofa, tucking her bare legs tightly under her naked butt, and pressed the power button.

The Apple logo flared to life.

For the next two hours, Aria entered a state of absolute, hyper-fixated tunnel vision.

She was entirely consumed by the very serious, highly critical task of setting up her digital aesthetic. She meticulously arranged her iOS widgets, color-coordinated her app icons into dedicated folders, and tested fourteen different Pinterest wallpapers before settling on a moody, blurred neon aesthetic.

Once the home screen was flawless, she opened the Contacts app.

She expected to see only one entry. She expected it to say something aggressively corporate and unromantic, like Damien Sinclair or his initial contact name, The Wallet.

Instead, staring back at her from the very top of the list, pinned as her only favorite, was:

My darling hubby (heart emoji, googly eyes emoji)

Aria blinked. Then, she let out a loud, breathless cackle that echoed in the living room.

’There is no way he typed that himself,’ Aria wheezed, falling back against the cushions.

Still chuckling, Aria logged into her Apple ID to trigger the iCloud sync.

A small loading bar appeared. A few seconds later, exactly two names populated beneath Damien’s pinned contact.

Zoe.Lucas.

Aria’s smile vanished instantly.

Lucas. Of course, that parasite had somehow survived the digital purge.

Aria tapped on his name with extreme prejudice. She didn’t hesitate for a single millisecond. She scrolled to the bottom of his contact card, smashed ’Block this Caller’, and then aggressively swiped left to delete his contact entirely.

”Trash taken out,” Aria muttered, feeling immensely satisfied.

She let out a soft sigh, looking at her nearly empty contact list. All of her industry connections, the young directors, the up-and-coming producers, and the writers she had networked with at her graduation ceremony were gone. They hadn’t been backed up to the cloud.

For a brief second, she mourned the loss of her networking hustle. But then she shrugged. None of them were actually that famous or useful anyway. Most of them were just clout-chasers who wanted to piggyback off the ”Vale” name before the Vale name went up in flames.

”Whatever,” Aria decided, locking the screen. ”Only useful, loyal people get to exist in this phone.”

She unlocked the device again, noticing the camera icon on the bottom right of the lock screen.

She had owned the iPhone 15, so she was incredibly eager to see the camera upgrades on the 16 Pro Max.

She swiped left to open the camera app.

The screen bloomed with high-definition clarity. Aria marveled at the 4K quality, testing the zoom by panning the lens across the sprawling living room. She zoomed in on a crystal vase across the room, the text on a distant book spine reading perfectly sharp.

”Insane,” she whispered, pulling the phone back.

She panned the camera to the right, aiming it toward the hallway.

The lens swept past the massive, floor-to-ceiling decorative mirror mounted on the living room wall.

Aria stopped.

She stared at the digital screen in her hands.

Reflected in the mirror, captured in ultra-high-definition perfection on her new phone, was herself.

She was completely, entirely naked, curled up on the white sofa. Because of her extensive three-hour moisturizing routine, her pale skin was literally glowing, catching the natural afternoon sunlight perfectly. The loose, damp rose-gold braid rested over one bare shoulder. Her posture was relaxed, her curves highlighted by the soft shadows of the living room.

She looked like a modern Renaissance painting.

Aria lowered the phone slightly, staring at her actual reflection in the mirror, and then looked back down at the screen.

Instantly, Zoe’s voice echoed through her memory.

”Sending nudes is a sacred art form. It keeps the marriage alive. You have a literal billionaire husband. You should be sending him highly compromising photos of yourself while he is in the middle of a corporate board meeting...”

Aria swallowed hard, her throat suddenly feeling very dry.

She looked at the digital display again. The lighting was literally perfect. It was the kind of lighting influencers paid thousands of dollars in ring lights to achieve.

Her thumb slowly drifted downward, hovering nervously just a millimeter above the white circular shutter button.

Damien was currently at Sinclair HQ. He was probably sitting at the head of a massive table right now, glaring at terrified executives.

Aria bit her bottom lip, her heart executing a slow, heavy flutter against her ribs.

’Should I?’ she asked herself, a wicked, intrusive thought taking root in her brain.