Reborn Bride, No Longer Your Victim

On the eve of my wedding, a photo of my fiancé with an intern sent me fleeing to Paris.

But when the plane landed, five years had passed.

My parents were dead, killed in a car crash while searching for me. My fiancé, Clayton, was now married to that same intern. She was pregnant and living in our home.

He treated me like a deranged stranger, and when she faked a fall down the stairs, he blamed me. He locked me in a dark panic room-my greatest fear-to punish me.

There, in the suffocating darkness, I lost our baby.

He thought I was just acting for attention.

But a return ticket brought me back. I've woken up on my wedding day. My parents are alive. This time, I'm not running.

Chapter 1

Audrey Hanson POV:

On the eve of my wedding, a single TMZ notification blew my life, my future, and my past to smithereens.

My phone buzzed on the silk of my wedding dress, laid out on the bed like a promise. My maid of honor, Chloe, was in the bathroom, humming along to some pop song on the radio. The air was thick with the scent of roses and champagne. Everything was perfect.

Too perfect.

The screen lit up with the lurid headline: TECH MOGUL CLAYTON YOUNG' S LATE-NIGHT RENDEZVOUS WITH MYSTERY INTERN. WEDDING ON THE ROCKS?

My heart stopped.

I clicked. The photo was grainy, taken from a distance, but unmistakable. There was Clayton, my Clayton, his tall frame leaning close to a younger woman outside a dimly lit bar. His hand was on her arm. Her face was tilted up towards his, her expression a mixture of adoration and something else I couldn't decipher.

The article named her. Kisha Fox. An intern at his company.

A wave of nausea washed over me. It felt like the floor had dropped out from under my feet. My breath came in short, sharp gasps. This couldn't be real. Not Clayton. Not the man I had loved for eight years, the man who had gotten down on one knee in this very room six months ago.

Chloe came out of the bathroom, her face scrubbed clean. "Audrey? Are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

I couldn't speak. I just held out the phone.

Her eyes scanned the screen, her smile faltering. "Oh, Audrey... this is... this is tabloid garbage. You know how they are. They twist everything."

But I saw his expression. The focused intensity. I knew that look. He wasn't just talking to an intern.

"I need some air," I whispered, my voice a stranger's.

"Audrey, wait. Let's call him. Let's just talk to him," Chloe pleaded.

But I was already moving, grabbing my purse, my keys. The walls were closing in. The beautiful white dress on the bed seemed to mock me. Betrayal was a cold, suffocating blanket. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think.

I didn't drive home. I drove to the airport.

I walked