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

Damien walked down the pristine hallway of Elias’ private clinic.

Elias was waiting for him outside Recovery Room 3, leaning against the wall and staring blankly at an iPad.

”How is she?” Damien asked, his voice dropping into its usual, flat baritone as he stopped in front of his friend.

”She’ll live,” Elias sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose beneath his glasses. ”The bullet missed the femoral artery and shattered zero bone. It’s a clean through-and-through. But she lost a significant amount of blood. Walking is going to be incredibly difficult for at least a month. So, she is going to need a full-time caretaker just to help her get from a bed to a bathroom.”

Damien’s jaw twitched. ”Understood.”

Inside the plush, five-star recovery suite, Diana’s ears perked up.

She heard her brother’s voice through the door. Instantly, she sprang into action. She aggressively chucked the latest issue of Vogue across the room, watching it slide safely under the visitor’s sofa.

She shimmied her body down the mattress, slumping pathetically against the pillows. She pulled the white blanket all the way up to her chin, practiced a few shallow, trembling breaths, and forced her eyes into a tragic, glassy stare.

She was ready for her Oscar.

The door clicked and pushed open.

Damien walked in, his hands casually shoved into the pockets of his tailored slacks. He stood at the foot of the bed, his golden eyes sweeping over her heavily bandaged thigh and her pale face.

”Damien,” Diana whimpered, her voice a weak, breathy rasp that sounded like a dying Victorian child.

She reached a trembling hand out toward him.

”I am so, so sorry,” she sniffled, letting a single, perfectly timed tear slip down her cheek. ”I shouldn’t have sneaked up on you. I was just so worried about you being alone in that massive penthouse with Aria... with Aria in her condition.”

Damien stared at her, his expression a terrifying, unreadable blank slate.

”I’ve done a lot of thinking in this bed,” Diana continued, laying her performance on incredibly thick. ”I almost died, Damien. It really put things into perspective. I’m going to act my age from now on. I’m going to stop bothering you so much. I’ll even start spending more time with Lucas, so I don’t annoy you when I’m feeling lonely.”

She let out a pathetic, tragic little sigh, dropping her hand onto the blanket.

”But Elias said I can’t walk,” she whispered, looking up at him with big, pleading eyes. ”I can’t be left alone, Damien. I’m going to need somewhere safe to stay. Somewhere with... room for me.”

She waited for the guilt. She waited for him to look at the bullet hole he had personally put in her leg and offer her the guest suite in his penthouse.

Damien looked at his sister, looking like a poor, helpless thing in the plush hospital bed.

A slow, cold smile curved Damien’s lips.

”That is wonderful to hear, Diana,” Damien said smoothly. ”You are turning over a new leaf and want to bond with your son, and since Elias insists you need a live-in caretaker... Lucas will be absolutely perfect for the job.”

Diana’s breath hitched.

Her pitiful mask shattered into a million pieces.

The weak, dying Victorian child vanished in a millisecond. She bolted upright in the bed, her face flushing a violent, furious red.

”WHAT?!” Diana shrieked, her voice echoing off the walls.

She instantly regretted ever mentioning her mistake of a son. She didn’t want to live with Lucas! Lucas was annoying and whiny!

When Elias had told her she needed a caretaker, she had internally thrown a parade because Damien would never let her live alone while she was in this condition! He was supposed to take her in!

”You can’t send me away with Lucas!” Diana yelled, dropping the act entirely. She aggressively crossed her arms over her chest, glaring daggers at her brother. ”I know exactly what you’re doing, Damien Sinclair! You just want your penthouse empty so you can play house with your little mistress!”

The cold, triumphant smile instantly fell from Damien’s face. His brows pulled together into a deep frown.

”What are you talking about?” Damien asked, his voice dropping into a lethal register.

”Don’t play dumb with me!” Diana scoffed, tilting her chin up. ”I saw her! Last night! When I went down the hall to check on you, I opened your bedroom door. I saw a woman wrapped up in your arms in your bed!”

Damien froze.

”And I have proof,” Diana bragged, her eyes glinting with a vicious, triumphant light. ”I took a photo, baby brother.”

Damien let out a slow, careful breath.

’She had seen Aria.’

”I didn’t expect this from you, Damien,” Diana tsked, shaking her head with dramatic disappointment. ”You never even really liked women growing up! And now you have a comatose wife on life support, and a secret lover sleeping in her bed? It’s scandalous. Where did I go wrong raising you?”

Damien didn’t say a word. He just stared at her.

”So,” Diana smiled a wicked, shark-like smile. ”If you don’t let me move into the penthouse... I might accidentally leak that photo to TMZ. The press would have a field day. ’Grieving Widower Caught Cheating While Wife Fights For Her Life.’ It has a great ring to it, doesn’t it?”

Usually, Damien was entirely unfazed by the petty, concocted scandals Diana tried to orchestrate. He didn’t give a single fuck about public opinion.

But this wasn’t about public opinion.

This was about Aria.

She was meticulously, brilliantly plotting the ultimate ”return from the dead” PR stunt for the movie premiere in eight days.

If a photo of a ”mistress” leaked to TMZ, it would shatter the narrative. It would ruin her grand red-carpet resurrection. It would completely blow up her master plan.

And Aria’s wrath was quite literally the only thing on the entire planet that Damien Sinclair actually feared. If he let Diana ruin her scheme, Aria will be very upset and likely not speak to him for a very long time. He could not allow Diana to have her way this time.

Damien’s eyes flicked from Diana’s face to the bedside table.

Sitting right next to a plastic cup of water was Diana’s iPhone.

He took a slow, calculated step toward the table, fully intending to snatch the device and crush it into fine powder with his bare hands.

But Diana possessed the exact same ruthless, paranoid Sinclair DNA that he did.

She saw his eyes shift. She lunged.

Diana scooped the iPhone off the table. and shoved the phone straight down the front of her top, tucking it securely into the deep cleavage of her push-up bra.

Damien stopped dead in his tracks.

”Don’t even think about it,” Diana laughed triumphantly, patting her chest. ”Besides, destroying the phone won’t do you any good. I have multiple cloud backups. Synced to three different servers.”

Outplayed for the moment by her paranoia, Damien let out a heavy, defeated sigh. He walked over to the visitor’s sofa chair and sank into it, crossing one ankle over his knee.

He leveled her with a glare that promised future retribution.

”What are your demands?” Damien asked coldly.

Diana smiled, settling comfortably back against the pillows.

”Get me a laptop.”