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

It was exactly 12:00 PM.

The fluorescent lighting of the rented hotel conference room beat down on Zoe as she directed two confused hotel staffers on where to place the folding chairs for the press pool. She was wearing a tailored black power suit, her purple hair slicked back that meant absolute business.

On the outside, she looked like a ruthless PR shark ready to handle a crisis.

Internally, she wanted to throw up in a trash can, scream into a pillow, and run straight into oncoming traffic.

”No, no, move the podium two inches to the left!” Zoe barked, waving a hand at the AV guy adjusting the microphones. ”I need the center lighting to hit the backdrop perfectly!”

She turned away, digging her phone out of her pocket with a trembling hand.

She opened her iMessage thread with Aria.

[Zoe: Aria. Where are you. Pick up.][Zoe: ARIA. THIS IS A CODE RED EMERGENCY. WAKE UP.][Zoe: Call me right now. I am not joking. I am going to have a heart attack.]

The messages sat there. Delivered. Not read.

Zoe switched over to Instagram, frantically sending a barrage of frantic DMs, praying the notification sounds would wake her up wherever she was. But it was complete radio silence.

Zoe felt like she was losing her damn mind.

How did that audio even get recorded? Who leaked it? Since the clip dropped late last night, Zoe’s phone had basically turned into a vibrating, molten brick. She had been relentlessly dodging calls, emails, and frantic text messages from studio executives, journalists, and brand sponsors since 7:00 AM.

Under the crushing, suffocating weight of the global media breathing down her neck, Zoe had cracked. She hadn’t given an official statement yet, but to buy herself time, she had hastily announced an emergency press conference scheduled for 1:00 PM.

She had been absolutely certain she would have heard from Aria by now.

But it was midday, and the star of the press conference was entirely MIA. She didn’t even know she was scheduled to speak.

Zoe let out a shaky, jagged exhale. Her legs finally gave out. She slumped into one of the cheap, metal conference chairs in the back row, her shoulders caving inward as the magnitude of the disaster crushed the breath out of her.

She rubbed her throbbing temples. She tried to convince herself that Aria was just plotting. That her best friend would miraculously swoop through the double doors at 12:59 PM, looking flawless, and deliver a mastermind speech that would save the day at the last possible second.

But as Zoe unlocked her phone and opened Twitter, that fragile hope shattered into a million tiny pieces.

The internet was a literal warzone. And they were losing. Badly.

The trending timeline was a bloodbath of unimaginable proportions. High-definition stills of Aria from The Empress’s Shadow filled the screen, heavily photoshopped with the word CANCELED stamped aggressively in dripping, blood-red font right over her face.

@GossipGoblin: I actually feel sick. The way she manipulated the entire world? Faking a coma for clout while real people suffer? Aria Sinclair is officially over. #CanceledQueen

@DemonKingStan: Damien deserves so much better than this manipulative sociopath. Lock her up for fraud!

Zoe scrolled through the endless barrage of nasty comments, slander videos, and vicious hit pieces. Aria had hemorrhaged over four hundred thousand followers on Instagram in a matter of hours. There were a few loyal fans desperately trying to defend her, arguing she must have had her reasons, but they were viciously ratioed into oblivion.

A handful of conspiracy theorists swore the audio was a deepfake AI, but nobody was buying it.

As far as Zoe could see, the Scarlet Queen was finished. The reputation Aria had worked hard to build was burning to absolute ash in front of her eyes.

A profound sense of loneliness washed over Zoe. She was just a girl trying to hold back a global tsunami of hate.

She dropped her phone onto her lap and buried her face in her hands.

”Why the long face?”

A smooth, incredibly amused, deeply familiar voice drifted through the quiet hum of the conference room.

Zoe’s heart executed an erratic skip against her ribs.

She lifted her head, her tired eyes snapping toward the front of the room.

Standing casually near the entrance, leaning against the doorframe with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, was Kai Vane. He looked utterly devastating in a relaxed, dark cashmere sweater, an arrogant smirk playing on his lips.

Zoe’s immediate instinct was defensive fury. She thought he was here to bring her more expensive gifts to try and win her back.

”What are you doing here, Kai?” Zoe demanded, her voice cracking slightly as she quickly swiped a stray tear from under her eye. ”I do not have the time or the emotional bandwidth to deal with your games today. Get out.”

Kai didn’t look offended. His smirk just softened into something infinitely more genuine. He pushed off the doorframe, walking slowly down the center aisle of chairs.

”We wanted to help out,” Kai said simply, stopping a few feet away from her.

Zoe’s brow furrowed, a deep crease of confusion forming between her eyes. ”We?”

From the shadows of the hallway just outside the double doors, two more figures stepped into the conference room.

Zoe stopped breathing.

Dr. Elias Thorne walked in, wearing a sharp grey suit, looking extremely exhausted. Right beside him strode Julian Cross, looking like a king walking into a courtroom, impeccably dressed in a pinstripe three-piece suit that screamed untouchable wealth.

Elias walked up to the row of chairs, adjusting his glasses with a heavy sigh.

”My medical license is on the line,” Elias stated, his voice flat. ”I signed off on a fake coma. I am an accessory to massive medical fraud. I don’t exactly have a choice but to help you fix this.”

Julian stopped right next to Elias. He checked the Rolex on his wrist with practiced elegance.

”Aria will undoubtedly be furious if her reputation tanks while we sit idle,” Julian added, ”I do not wish to be on the receiving end of that woman’s revenge again.”

Zoe stared at them.

They were here because Aria was actually their friend. She had genuinely found good, loyal people.

Zoe’s lower lip trembled violently. Her vision completely blurred as a wave of tears instantly flooded her eyes, spilling over her lashes and ruining her concealer.

”Oh my god,” Zoe sobbed, letting out a wet, messy, ugly cry of pure relief, pressing her hands over her mouth.

The three composed billionaires instantly panicked.

They were hopelessly ill-equipped to handle a crying woman.

”Whoa, hey, don’t do that,” Kai scrambled backward a half-step, holding his hands up like she was a ticking bomb.

Zoe let out a watery, hysterical laugh, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand.

”I’m fine, I’m fine,” Zoe sniffled, looking up at the three of them. ”I’m just... I’m so stressed. Do you guys know where they are? Do you know where Aria and Damien went?”

The three men exchanged a quick, hesitant glance.

”No,” Kai admitted, his playful demeanor finally dropping into seriousness. ”Damien isn’t answering his phone, his men refuse to disclose his location, and Ken doesn’t know where he is either.”

Zoe’s brief moment of relief vanished, a fresh spike of terror clawing at her throat. ”What if something happened to—”

”Hey. Stop,” Kai interrupted, his voice dropping into a smooth, deeply reassuring tone.

He stepped closer, offering her a surprisingly gentle smile.

”They’re fine, Zoe. It’s Damien Sinclair. He probably just turned his phone off to get some peace.”

Kai tilted his head, a knowing glint flashing in his eyes.

”And you know Aria better than anyone,” Kai reminded her. ”She lives for the drama. She doesn’t just walk into a room; she makes a cinematic entrance. She probably just wants to wait until the absolute last second to maximize the shock value.”

Zoe paused. She let the words sink in.

He was right. That was exactly what Aria would do.

Zoe took a deep, shuddering breath. She wiped the last tear from her cheek, her spine straightening as she pushed the panic down into a tiny, locked box in her mind.

”Alright,” Zoe stood up from the cheap metal chair. She smoothed down the lapels of her black blazer. ”Let’s save my best friend’s career.”