Reborn To Marry My Billionaire Rival

The coarse fibers of the hemp rope bit into Felicity's wrists, tearing through the top layer of her skin.

She collapsed onto the freezing wooden floorboards of the abandoned Aspen cabin. Her muscles twitched involuntarily.

A violent gust of negative-twenty-degree wind howled through the shattered window. The blizzard slammed into her thin silk evening gown.

Her teeth chattered so hard her jaw ached. She dragged her numb fingers toward a jagged shard of broken glass a few inches away.

The rope yanked her wrists back. The friction burned her raw flesh. She was half an inch short.

Felicity bit down hard on the tip of her tongue. The sharp, metallic taste of warm blood flooded her mouth, forcing her brain to stay awake.

She dragged her body forward, the wood splinters tearing through her pantyhose. Her fingertips finally grazed the cold edge of the glass. She flipped it into her palm.

The razor-sharp edge sliced deep into her palm. Warm blood welled up, but the sub-zero air froze it into a sticky, dark crimson paste almost instantly.

Ignoring the stinging pain, she twisted her wrists and began sawing at the thick rope behind her back.

Her shoulders screamed in agony. After dozens of frantic, bloody strokes, the thick fibers finally snapped.

She rolled onto her back, her chest heaving. Her breath plumed into thick white clouds in the dark cabin. She stared blankly at the rotting, drafty ceiling.

Her trembling hands reached into the hidden pocket of her gown. She pulled out her backup phone.

Her fingers were completely stiff, the joints locked from the cold. She couldn't press the power button.

She brought the phone to her mouth, biting down on the edge of the device, using her teeth to force the button down.

The screen flickered to life. The harsh white glare stabbed her dilated pupils.

Three percent battery.

Panic seized her throat. She clumsily tapped the screen with her bloody knuckle, opening her contacts.

She hit the dial button for Brandt, her fiancé.

The signal bar hovered at a single, weak dot. The agonizing, drawn-out ringing echoed in the silent cabin, competing with the howling wind outside.

Just as the call was about to drop, the line clicked open.

A deafening blast of heavy bass and electronic dance music exploded from the tiny speaker, piercing her frozen eardrums.

"Brandt..." she croaked.

Her throat was so dry it cracked. The taste of copper coated her tongue. Her voice was a pathetic, raspy whisper, instantly swallowed by the blizzard.

A frustrated, dismissive scoff came through the receiver. In the background, a woman let out a high-pitched, breathy giggle.

"Felicity, are you kidding me right now?" Brandt's voice was laced with irritation. "Another PR stunt? Really? Faking a disappearance to force a wedding date?"

"I'm in Aspen," she gasped, her lungs burning with every intake of icy air. "Kidnapped... dying. Please."

"Stop trying to manipulate the media, Felicity," Brandt snapped, his tone as sharp as a physical blade sliding between