Reborn: After 99 Divorces

I stood at the edge of the freezing pond on the Boone estate, my body trembling with a fear that rattled my bones. Across from me, Amanda Olsen looked immaculate in her cashmere coat, a sharp contrast to the jagged reality I was trying to hold together. "Why?" I whispered. Amanda just smiled, admitting she killed Grandpa Boone because he actually liked me. She pulled out a thick envelope-divorce papers Cordero had signed that morning. She told me he called me a parasite and was celebrating with her the night I suffered a miscarriage. Before I could even scream, Amanda lunged and shoved me into the icy water. My heavy wool coat acted like a sponge, dragging me into the artificial abyss. I thrashed and gasped for air, but Amanda just stood on the bank, watching me drown with her hands tucked casually in her pockets. As my lungs burned and the darkness closed in, I realized I had spent my entire marriage taking their abuse. I was the "foster trash" and the "gold digger" who let them win every single time. I was dying alone, hated by the husband I had tried so hard to love, while my murderer stood victorious on the shore. I never fought back. I just let them destroy me. Then, a violent spasm tore through my body. I sat up gasping, sucking in dry, air-conditioned oxygen instead of murky pond water. I wasn't dead. I was back in the opulent master suite, surrounded by red rose petals and wedding decorations. The digital clock glowed: October 14, 2019. I had gone back five years to the very night my nightmare began. The bathroom door clicked open, and Cordero stepped out, looking at me with the same cold disgust I remembered. But as I gripped the silk sheets, a new resolve hardened in my chest. This time, I wasn't going to be the victim. This time, the Boone family was going to find out exactly what happens when you push someone too far.

Chapters

Chapter 7

Three days later, Boone Manor was a fortress of light. Limousines lined the driveway like a parade of shining beetles.

Elaina stood in front of the full-length mirror.

She was wearing a dress she had found in the back of a vintage store in SoHo. It was black velvet, long-sleeved, with a high neck and a deep, plunging back. It was severe, elegant, and timeless. She had spent two nights tailoring it herself, pricking her fingers until they bled to get the fit perfect.

She wore no jewelry except for simple pearl studs. Her hair was swept up in a loose, sophisticated chignon.

The door opened. Cordero walked in. He was adjusting his cufflinks. He stopped when he saw her.

For a second, the room was silent.

He looked her up and down. There was no sneer. No mockery. Just a blank, stunned appraisal.

"You're ready," he said. It was a statement, not a question.

"Yes."

He held out his arm. "Let's get this over with. Try not to embarrass me."

"I'll do my best," she said dryly.

She slipped her hand through the crook of his arm. The contact was electric. Even through the layers of fabric-her velvet, his wool suit-she felt the heat of his skin. Her heart skipped a beat, betraying her. She hated that her body still reacted to him.

They walked down the stairs. The ballroom was packed. The air smelled of expensive perfume and lilies.

As they entered, heads turned. The whispers started.

"Is that the foster girl?"

"She looks... decent."

"Where are the sequins?"

They navigated the crowd. Suddenly, a wall of floral perfume blocked their path.

Joanna Olsen, Amanda's mother, stood there. She was wearing a dress that looked like it was made of gold foil. She held a martini glass dangerously tilted.

"Well, well," Joanna sneered, her eyes raking over Elaina. "Cordero, you brought the charity case. And look at that dress. Black? For a birthday? It looks like you're going to a funeral. Is it second-hand? It smells like mothballs."

A few women nearby tittered behind their fans.

Cordero stiffened. His jaw clenched. He opened his mouth to speak, to defend the family name if not her.

Elaina squeezed his arm gently, stopping him.

She smiled at Joanna. It was a radiant, terrifying smile.

"Actually, Joanna, black is the color of elegance in every fashion capital from Paris to Milan. Vogue just did a whole spread on the return of gothic minimalism." She paused, letting her eyes drift over Joanna's shiny, crinkled gold dress. "But I love your dress. It's so... festive. You look exactly like a Ferrero Rocher wrapper. It makes me want to unwrap you and see if there's a nut inside."

Someone choked on their drink. A ripple of laughter spread through the circle.

Joanna's face turned a violent shade of beet red. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish.

Cordero looked down at Elaina. The corner of his mouth twitched. He looked like he was fighting a smile.

"Excuse us," Elaina said politely. She steered Cordero away, leaving Joanna fuming in her gold foil.

"Ferrero Rocher?" Cordero murmured, leaning closer to her ear.

"It was the kindest thing I could think of," Elaina whispered back.

Just then, a hush fell over the room.

The double doors opened. Amanda made her entrance.

She was flanked by two assistants carrying a massive, flat box wrapped in white silk. She was wearing a white ballgown that looked like a wedding dress.

She walked straight toward Mrs. Boone, who was holding court near the orchestra.

"Happy Birthday, Mother Boone!" Amanda cried out, her voice projecting to the back of the room.

Elaina tightened her grip on Cordero's arm.

"Watch this," she said softly.

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