The Reborn Choice

The day I came of age, I had to honor the pact: marry a son of the Blackwood family.

In my first life, I chose Julian, the man I’d loved for years.

But after we were married, he treated me as nothing more than a tool for his pleasure and cheated on me with my adopted sister, Seraphina.

They flaunted their affair right in front of me. In the end, they poisoned me, leaving me to die a bitter, hateful death.

Reborn, when the Don Blackwood asked who I would choose for the marriage pact, I didn’t hesitate. I pointed to the sickly Damien.

This time, I’d let Julian and Seraphina have each other.

But this time, Julian was the one filled with regret.

In my last life, I chose to marry Julian, the man I’d adored for years. He betrayed me and tormented me until my dying day.

Reborn, I found myself back at the moment the Don asked for my choice. Without hesitation, I pointed to Damien, the man rumored to be a sickly cripple.

"The choice has been made."

I walked out of Don Alistair’s study, the heavy oak door clicking shut behind me. The candlelight in the hallway flickered, casting eerie shadows on the walls.

My palms were sweating. In that room, surrounded by antiques, I had just made the most important decision of this life.

The choice of who to marry.

And it wasn't the man they all expected.

"Elara."

I turned to see Julian stepping out of the shadows. He was, as always, perfect—hair like spun gold, eyes as cold as ice, and an air of arrogance in his every move.

"Just came from my father's study?" he asked, walking toward me with his usual condescending tone. "Let me guess, still lost in your little girl fantasies about our future together?"

I just stared at him, silent.

The old me would have blushed, her heart pounding at his every glance. But now, all I felt was a chill rising from the pit of my stomach.

"Listen, Elara," Julian said, stopping in front of me and looking down his nose at me. "Since our engagement ceremony is coming up, there are a few things I need to make clear."

"Like what?"

"After we're married, you'll be a tool for my pleasure, at best. I'll have my freedom," he said, his tone as casual as if he were discussing the weather. "Don't expect me to act like some fool from a romance novel."

The Blackwoods were the top family in the Chicago underworld. My family was a minor one, barely holding on. To outsiders, this marriage was a mismatch. But Don Alistair and my father were close. Alistair had watched me grow up and arranged the pact long ago, waiting only for me to come of age to choose my husband.

Still, to call your future wife a "tool" was the ultimate insult.

The old me would have been heartbroken.

I heard footsteps and whispers behind