Reborn Heiress: Revenge On My Wedding Day

The beep of the heart monitor was the only thing louder than the silence in the room. It was a rhythmic, mocking countdown.

Aria tried to lift her finger. Just one. Just the index finger of her right hand.

Nothing happened.

Her brain screamed the command, sending frantic electrical impulses down her spine, but the connection was dead. Her body was a heavy, useless sack of meat and bone that no longer belonged to her. She was trapped behind her own eyes.

The door to the private suite in the Swiss clinic swung open. The sound was smooth, expensive, like everything else in this place that was designed to make death feel like a luxury vacation.

Jordan walked in.

He looked impeccable. Of course he did. He was wearing that navy custom suit from Milan, the one Aria had bought him for his thirty-second birthday. He adjusted his cufflinks as he approached the bed, his movements fluid and unbothered.

Chloe followed him.

The air in Aria's lungs, what little she could control, seemed to freeze. Chloe was wearing Aria's dress. The vintage Givenchy Aria had saved for the anniversary gala. It hung a little loose on Chloe's hips, but she wore it with a terrifying confidence.

They stood over Aria.

Jordan didn't look sad. He didn't look like a grieving fiancé watching his soon-to-be wife succumb to a mysterious, rapid-onset neurological decline. He looked bored.

"It's done," he said softly.

He wasn't talking to Aria. He was talking to the air, or maybe to Chloe. He held up a blue folder.

"The trust transfer cleared the offshore routing about ten minutes ago. We're liquid, Aria. Completely liquid."

Pain blossomed in Aria's chest. It wasn't the heartbreak. It was physical. A searing, chemical burning that started in the center of her heart and began to crawl up her throat. The neurotoxin was making its final ascent.

Chloe giggled. It was a light, airy sound that made Aria want to vomit.

"She looks so peaceful," Chloe said, leaning over Aria. Her perfume-Aria's perfume-clogged Aria's nose. "Do you think she knows? About the wine?"

"It doesn't matter," Jordan said. He reached out and brushed a stray hair from Aria's forehead. His touch was cold. "She drank it. She signed the papers. She was the perfect little asset right until the end."

The wine. The engagement toast. Seven days ago.

Aria's heart monitor began to speed up. The beep-beep-beep accelerated into a frantic warning.

"God, that noise is annoying," Jordan muttered.

He reached over and silenced the alarm.

The silence that followed was heavy. He turned to Chloe, grabbed her waist, and pulled her into him. He kissed her. Right there. Right over Aria's dying body. It was a wet, hungry kiss, full of the passion he hadn't shown Aria in two years.

Aria tried to scream. She tried to curse them to hell.

All that came out was a wet, rattling wheeze.

Jordan pulled away from Chloe and pulled a silver lighter from