Reborn Heiress: Escaping My Contract Marriage with the Cold CEO Chapter 48: Here We Go Again

NATHAN JANG

The slls of gasoline and scorched tal mixed with the coppery tang of the blood filling my mouth. More pain—white-hot and searing—speared through my ribs. My vision swam, darkness flickering at the edges.

Voices cut through the haze.

"—holy shit, that’s a Maybach—"

"Call 911! Jesus, call soone—"

The gloved hand tightened on my shoulder. Pain flared, and I felt my skin go clammy. My breathing felt shaky, too.

A second figure leaned in. He pressed a finger to my neck, obviously checking for a pulse.

"Still alive," he muttered.

The wreckage groaned as the door was wrenched open. Hands grabbed , pulling. Fresh agony tore through as bystanders dragged my body onto the asphalt.

"Is he breathing?"

"Barely. Look at his chest—Christ, that’s bone—"

I tried to turn my head, my neck screaming in protest. Three feet away, my bodyguard Malone lay sprawled across the road, his massive fra unnaturally still. Blood pooled beneath his skull . His eyes—those sharp, watchful eyes that had tracked every threat for so many years—were open, unseeing.

A wet cough tore from my throat. "Mal...one..."

He was gone. Dead.

The distant wail of sirens and the panicked whispers of strangers cut through the grief clouding my mind.

"Oh my God, is that—? That’s Nathan Jang."

"The CEO? No fucking way—"

"It’s him. Look at his watch. That’s a Patek Philippe."

Their voices grew distant, muffled as if I were sinking underwater.

A flash of white at the edge of the crowd.

My breath hitched.

Fiona Grand.

She stood at the periphery of the crowd. She wore a white dress, her typical I’m-so-innocent attire. Her lips curved into a frightening smile.

Was it Fiona? Shouldn’t that be impossible? She was supposed to be locked away in the Blackridge Psychiatric Facility until she was deed competent enough to stand trial for her cris.

Our eyes t. Her head tilted, birdlike, as she studied . Like I was a tasty bug she planned to eat.

She raised one pale hand and pressed a single finger to her lips. Shhh.

The world went dark.

***|***|***|***|***

NATHAN JANG

I gasped, my body jerking upright as if electrocuted. My hands flew to my chest, my shoulder, my face, searching for wounds—but there was nothing. No blood. No pain.

I was sitting in a leather chair.

Across from , an ornate wooden desk. Behind it, the sprawling skyline of Ash City through floor-to-ceiling windows. The Jang Group headquarters. My office.

My fingers trembled as I reached for the contract in front of . The thick, embossed paper bore the Jang and Belmont family crests at the top.

The marriage agreent.

The one Vanessa and I would sign today to create what I thought would be a loveless rger.

A sharp knock at the door.

"Co in," I said, my voice steadier than I felt.

The door opened, and there she was.

Vanessa Belmont.

Neenie.

She stepped inside, her heels clicking against the marble floor. Her blonde hair was swept into an elegant updo, her fitted navy dress accentuating the curve of her waist. She looked every inch the poised heiress.

Eyes were windows to the soul, right? In Vanessa’s eyes, I saw her excitent, her love for . Emotions I had ignored in our original tiline.

"Nathan," she said softly.

I stood, my pulse roaring in my ears. This was the mont. The mont I had so casually stomped on Vanessa’s heart.

She hesitated, then took a breath. "Before we sign, there’s sothing I need to say."

I already knew what was coming. But this ti—this ti—I wouldn’t silence her.

"Go ahead," I said gently.

Her fingers twisted together. "I know this is just a business arrangent for you. I know you don’t... feel the sa way." She swallowed. "But I love you, Nathan. I have since college."

The words hung between us, fragile and honest.

In my first life, I had scoffed. Told her love had no place in a contract. That sentint was a weakness.

I had been a fool.

I got up and crossed the distance between us. I cupped her face and stared into her eyes. I wanted her to see how I felt about her. About us.

"Neenie," I murmured.

Then I kissed her.

Her lips parted in surprise, then lted against mine. Her hands fisted in my shirt, pulling closer as if she feared I’d vanish. When I finally pulled back, her cheeks were flushed, her eyes wide.

"Nathan...?"

I brushed my thumb over her plump bottom lip. "I’m in love with you, too"

"What?"

"It’s true," I said. "I will spend the rest of my life making up for every second I wasted before."

A tear slipped down her cheek. "You don’t have to say that just because—"

"I’m not." I pressed my forehead to hers. "I’m not."

She searched my face, looking for the lie. But there was none.

This ti, I would do it right.

This ti, I wouldn’t lose her.

I reached for the contract, picked up the pen, and signed my na with a flourish. Then I handed it to her.

"Your turn."

Her fingers trembled as she took the pen. She hesitated, then scrawled her signature beside mine.

It was done.

After we handed over the contract to the lawyers, I took Neenie to dinner.

Not at so stuffy, politically advantageous restaurant. Not at table surrounded by shareholders and family allies.

I took her to the tiny Italian place she’d ntioned once in college when she’d invited on a date to celebrate her birthday. The eatery had checkered table cloths and candles tucked into Chianti wicker basket bottles. It slled like garlic and felt warm, inviting. And the old chef sang Dean Martin songs while he cooked.

The hostess led us to a table tucked into a cozy corner.

"How did you know about this place?" asked Neenie.

I smiled. "You told ."

"I did?"

"On your nineteenth birthday. You invited ..."

"And you said no. I ended up going by myself."

"I’m sorry," I said. "You deserved better from ."

"You didn’t like , Nathan. You don’t owe anything for the years I chased you. My feelings for you were my business, not yours."

I pulled out her chair. She sat, watching as I took the seat next to her. I wanted to stay close. I couldn’t quite get rid of the nervous feeling that soone might snatch her from .

Vanessa’s fingers traced the edge of her wine glass as Dean Martin’s That’s Amore played from the overhead speakers. In the back kitchen, the chef’s powerful voice sang along to the lyrics.

The candlelight caught the gold flecks in her green eyes. She was so beautiful. How did I not see how lovely she was before?

"You’re staring," she murmured, a shy smile playing at her lips.

"I’m morizing." I reached across the table to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "The way you look when you’re happy. The exact shade of pink your cheeks turn after drinking Chianti."

"Since when do you say things like that?"

"Since I realized how much ti I wasted not being with you." My thumb brushed the inside of her wrist, feeling her pulse jump. "Tell sothing I don’t know about you."

"Like what?"

"Anything. Everything. The childhood scar you hide under that bracelet. What you really think about my father."

Vanessa’s smile faltered. The bracelet—a delicate gold chain with a single erald—clicked as she twisted it. "You noticed the scar?"

"Yes." In my first life, I hadn’t paid attention to her at all. I was focused on the company and its projects. Working overti. Irritated if she called or if I had to attend another tedious family dinner.

She undid the clasp, revealing a thin white line along her inner wrist. "Seven years old. Fell out of the oak tree at Belmont Manor trying to rescue a bird’s nest." Her eyes t mine, daring to laugh. "The nanny fainted when she saw the blood."

I brought her wrist to my lips, kissing the scar. "My brave Neenie."

The bell above the restaurant’s front door rang.

Cold air rushed in, carrying the cloying scent of a familiar perfu.

Vanessa looked toward the front of the restaurant. She gasped, her eyes as round as dinner plates. My body went rigid before I even turned to see who’d disturbed her.

Fiona Grand stood in the doorway. Her platinum blonde hair was perfectly styled, lips painted blood-red. Her gaze zeroed in on us.

Wait a minute. In my first life, Fiona showed up on my doorstep four months from now. What was she doing here?

"Fiona?" Vanessa whispered. "When did she return to Ash City?"

Fiona glided toward us, her smile widening the closer she got to our table. "If it isn’t Vanessa Belmont and Nathan Jang. What’s that?" she asked, cupping her ear. "Wedding bells?"

She picked up a steak knife and tapped it on our table. "Relax, Nathan. I’m just here to congratulate the happy couple."

The blade flashed as she suddenly lunged forward.

She shoved the knife into .

White-hot pain exploded in my chest. Blood splattered on the checkered table cloth.

I looked down. The knife handle protruded from my sternum, her perfect red nails still wrapped around it.

Fiona twisted the blade. "If I can’t have you, no one will."

Vanessa’s scream echoed as I tipped out of my chair and collapsed to the floor. The last thing I saw was Vanessa’s terrified expression as she pressed her hands around the wound.

I fell into the soft, quiet ether.

Then—