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

Damien closed the passenger door of the Maserati.

He hissed through his teeth as he settled into the bucket seat, his lower abdomen still throbbing with a dull, nauseating ache from her kick. But physical pain was quickly becoming the least of his concerns.

Warning bells began screaming in his head.

He watched in horror as his wife basically vibrated with excitement in the driver’s seat. Aria was affectionately caressing the custom Italian leather steering wheel like it was a fluffy puppy, a bright gleam in her emerald eyes.

She didn’t even check the mirrors. She just jammed her finger directly onto the push-to-start button.

The twin-turbo V8 engine roared to life, a guttural, mechanical scream that echoed off the concrete walls of the parking garage.

Damien didn’t hesitate. He reached over his shoulder, grabbed the seatbelt, and hastily snapped the metal buckle into the receiver, pulling the strap so tight across his chest it nearly cut off his circulation.

”Alright, buckle up, baby!” Aria beamed, grabbing the gear shift.

She was totally ready to floor it.

Damien’s hand instantly shot out, clamping down directly over hers on the gearstick. With a swift, panicked motion, he pushed the electronic handbrake down, disengaging the lock she had completely forgotten about.

If she had hit the gas with the brake engaged, she would have torn the transmission right out of the chassis.

Damien let out a slow, shaky breath. He stared at the glowing dashboard, the chilling realization settling deep into his bones: he was actually not going to survive this trip.

”Oops,” Aria giggled nervously, glancing down at the handbrake. ”Forgot about that.”

She waited for him to move his hand so she could shift into drive.

He didn’t move it.

Instead, Damien kept his large, warm hand securely draped over hers on the gearstick. His long fingers gently intertwined with hers, his thumb resting against her knuckles.

Aria looked over at him.

”I hate that I failed to protect you,” Damien admitted, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that barely carried over the idle hum of the engine.

Aria’s breath hitched.

”I will hate myself forever for it, Aria,” Damien confessed, his eyes dropping to their joined hands. ”When I saw you falling into that water... I lost my mind. I have a revenge of my own to carry out against the people who kidnapped you, tied you up, and almost killed you.”

He looked back up, holding her gaze with unvarnished sincerity.

”But I won’t get in your way regarding your mother,” he promised, his voice softening. ”I apologize for the things I said to you earlier. I was out of line. It’s just... patience has never really been my strong suit.”

Aria watched him, her chest tight.

”I am paranoid,” Damien admitted, a dark, bitter smile touching his lips. ”I grew up sleeping with a knife under my pillow. Trusting the process is not something I know how to do.”

Aria stared at the beautiful man sitting in her passenger seat.

She was no stranger to the bloody lore of the Sinclair family dynasty. In her teenage years, she had gone down a lot of internet rabbit holes, watching three-part, hours-long YouTube conspiracy video essays about the infamous Sinclair bloodline inheritance wars.

She had seen the news clippings of his older brothers. She had read about the suspicious ”hunting accidents,” the ”lost at sea” tragedies, and the sudden, fatal overdoses.

She had always wondered how Damien—the youngest of them all—had ended up the sole surviving winner of the empire.

She had never wanted to ask him, sort of terrified of what she might find out.

The online conspiracy theorists believed it had fallen to him by default. They speculated that his older brothers had simply killed each other off until only the child was left standing.

But looking at him now, Aria knew that was bullshit. Wouldn’t a child be the easiest target to eliminate first? Damien hadn’t survived by hiding. He had survived by out-smarting, out-maneuvering, and completely out-monster-ing his family.

Aria wasn’t naive. She knew exactly who she married. She knew he was dark, ruthless, and deeply twisted.

But knowing just how evil he could be to the rest of the world made the soft, gentle, intensely vulnerable side he reserved only for her so incredibly precious. It made her heart flutter wildly against her ribs.

”I will help you when you need me to,” Damien swore, his thumb stroking her skin. ”I won’t look into your mother’s case anymore unless you ask. But you have to accept that I will not give up on my revenge against the people who threw you off that bridge.”

The golden fire reignited in his eyes.

”I will not have mercy on the people who hurt you.”

Aria didn’t argue. She leaned her head down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the top of his hand resting over hers on the gearstick.

”Thank you for apologizing,” Aria whispered, looking back up at him. ”And I promise I won’t get in your way either. I just don’t want you to act without enough evidence. I am all for ruining the lives of assholes, but innocent people have life hard enough as it is. You should put more effort into investigating for their sake.”

She was talking about Jade and Leo, but she knew Damien understood the subtext.

”I’m sorry for the hurtful things I said to you too,” Aria continued, her face flushing slightly. ”I shouldn’t have lashed out. And I am really sorry for calling you a pompous asshole.”

Damien’s eyebrows shot up.

”When did you call me that?”

Aria froze.

Her brain did a frantic rewind of their argument. She realized, with a spike of embarrassment, that she had only called him that inside her head.

”Uh,” Aria stuttered, her face burning a shade of tomato red. She let out a high-pitched, nervous chuckle. ”Just... just take the apology, please.”

Damien stared at her panicked face for two seconds before a chuckle rumbled deep in his chest.

”Thank you for apologizing,” Damien smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

He slowly removed his hand from over hers on the gearstick.

Damien leaned back against the plush leather headrest. He reached over, aggressively pulling his seatbelt even tighter across his chest until it locked into place. He closed his eyes and released a long, deep exhale.

”Well,” Damien stated dryly, his voice devoid of hope. ”Now I can rest in peace.”

Aria blinked, her brows furrowing in confusion. ”What do you mean?”

Damien opened his eyes. ”Wait.”

He leaned across the center console, grabbed her face with both hands, and planted a kiss on her lips. He pulled back, staring at her with the solemn gravity of a man standing before a firing squad.

”I love you,” Damien declared quickly. ”I have no regrets. You can drive now.”

Aria stared at him.

It took exactly three seconds for her brain to catch on. He was making his peace with death. He genuinely believed she was going to kill them in a fiery car crash.

Aria gasped, profoundly offended.

She turned back to the steering wheel, glaring out the windshield defiantly. She grabbed the gear shifter and aggressively yanked it into Drive.

”I’ll show you, Damien Sinclair.”