Rebirth: Love me Again

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BONUS

Chapter

! For the 200 PS, thank you all!]

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I stared out the window, my mind swirling in a haze, desperately trying to figure out how to get the money back in less than a month.

But no matter how hard I thought, there was no solution. Every plan crumbled before it even fully formed, leaving me empty and defeated.

My mind was a tangled mess, and my heart wasn't much better. I couldn't think straight. I couldn't breathe right.

The truth was, I wasn't even angry at Cole for not loving me back. I had accepted that long ago, even before I confessed my feelings.

I knew it from the start, when he told me flat-out that he'd never fall for me, no matter what I did. But still, I persisted. Foolishly, stubbornly, I held on, hoping that maybe, just maybe, something would change.

But it never did.

I didn't hate him for not returning my feelings. How could I? He was honest from the start. It wasn't his fault.

What I hated him for—what tore me apart inside—was that when I begged him to save me, when I was hanging on by a thread, terrified for my life, he did nothing. Not a damn thing.

We'd known each other since childhood, grown up together. I thought, despite everything, that he would step in, that he would protect me just this once. Out of respect for our past. Out of common decency. But I was wrong. So wrong.

It had only ever been one-sided. Just me, hanging on to something that was never real.

I couldn't even blame him for that, though. The fault was mine, and mine alone.

But that didn't mean I had no right to hate him.

He could've saved me. One word from him and all of this would've been over. But he didn't believe me. He thought I was clinging to him like I always did, so he brushed me aside. He let me fall.

I let out a long, shaky breath and slumped onto my bed. How was I supposed to find all that money in less than a month? The weight of it pressed down on my chest, suffocating me.

Maybe I was doomed after all. Maybe exile and death were my fate.

A sudden knock broke the silence, and the door creaked open. Victor stepped inside.

My heart sank.

I hadn't expected to see him here, but dread filled me the moment I saw his face. I knew what was coming.

Sinclair was coming for his money.

"Victor . . ." I forced out his name, my voice barely above a whisper. "What are you doing here? Is . . . is Sinclair with you?"

There was something in his expression, a harshness I had grown used to seeing. But now, that edge was gone. Instead, his face softened, his eyes full of something I couldn't quite place. It left me uneasy.

What was this? Why was he looking at me like that?

Victor had always been strict, no-nonsense. Emotionless, even. That was the Victor I knew. He was handsome, sure, but he'd always been stern, his sharp gaze cutting through any weakness.

But this . . . this softness in his face, this unexpected gentleness—it didn't suit him. It made me uncomfortable.

I didn't want him to pity me. I didn't need anyone's pity.

And yet, here he was, looking at me as though I was something fragile, something broken.

I hated it.

I would've preferred the old Victor—the one who was all business, all control. This version of him, this man standing in front of me now, just made me feel small. Helpless.

Maybe that's what I was. Just a helpless fool clinging to the past.

"Are you alright?" Victor's voice was soft but soon followed by a shake of his head as he recanted the question. "No, of course you're not. That was stupid of me to ask. If it helps at all, I brought your favorite sushi—salmon and tuna."

I narrowed my eyes at him, suspicion slicing through the air. "How do you know that's my favorite?"

His face remained calm, but a shadow of discomfort flickered in his eyes.

I rolled my eyes and let out a short snort. "Of course, you do. You've been spying on me, haven't you?"

Victor's expression faltered for just a moment before he forced a smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "It's not like that. It was your grandfather's order."

I let out a quiet laugh, but there was no humor in it. "Saving your own skin, huh? Does Old Man Sinclair know you're betraying him by telling me?"

Victor's lips curled up slightly. "The cat's already out of the bag. There's no point hiding it anymore."

The tension that had been suffocating the room began to lift, just a little, like a storm breaking.

"Have you eaten?" he asked, his voice softer now. "I'll prepare it for you. Just wait."

I watched as he moved across the room with effortless grace. There was something mesmerizing about the way he carried himself, every movement graceful, and every step elegant. He was the perfect butler, the perfect right-hand man.

He had been with Sinclair for years, almost like an extension of him—trusted with secrets, with business, with everything.

When the old man's health started failing, it wasn't his son that Sinclair relied on. It was always Victor who represented him, who spoke with his authority.

If bloodlines didn't matter, Victor might as well have inherited all of Rosette.

"You don't have to go through all the trouble," I muttered, trying to shake off the unease. "I can eat it out of the box. There's no need to prepare anything."

"Just wait." His voice was firm, though still gentle. "It'll be ready by the time your grandfather arrives."

The mention of Sinclair made my heart clench. I closed my eyes, my mind swirling again with the dread of what was to come.

Victor must have sensed the shift in my mood. I heard him pause, then felt his gaze on me, glancing over his shoulder, as if to check on me. "You know he's coming, don't you?"

I swallowed hard, unable to answer. The knot in my stomach tightened, but I wasn't ready to face it yet.

"How's Sebastian?" I asked instead, desperately changing the subject.

"He's fine," Victor replied, though his tone grew more serious. "But he still can't leave the facility for a few more weeks."

"Good," I murmured, though my mind was already far from the conversation. It was running a thousand miles per hour, trying to figure out how I was going to tell Sinclair about the stolen money. How I was going to confess the mess I'd made.

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door creaking open.

And then he entered.

The room seemed to darken, the air thickening with the presence of the man I feared more than the devil himself—Sinclair. The man who held the power to my life with a single word.

Everything inside me froze as he stepped into the room, his eyes locking onto mine like a predator eyeing its prey.

This was it.

Time to face what was coming for me.