It was her.
The same long hair that gently caressed her hips, the same face, the same small cut on her eyebrow she'd gotten when she fell at Ravenswood.
But there was no scar on her neck. No crushed capillaries from the rope she remembered squeezing so hard against her throat. No signs of the rope scars that took her life. Only smooth, perfect skin.
How was that possible?
The pain had felt so real. So had the terror as she waited through all that torture, the anticipation and the wish for death to finally arrive and relieve her from the pain.
She pinched her arm hard.
"Ouch."
The sting was sharp and so very real.
If this wasn't a dream, then maybe the last few nights were. It should be a dream—a long, traumatic nightmare born from humiliation, betrayal, and the stress of bankruptcy. That was the only logical explanation. Rebirth—such things only happened in myths, in stories. They weren't real. They couldn't be.
But dreams aren't that vivid, a voice inside her whispered.
And rebirth isn't real, she told the voice firmly.
A knock sounded at her office door.
She froze.
"Come in," she called, her voice far steadier than she felt.
Samantha stepped inside—the woman she had grown to call her best friend. The one who had brought the Golden Enterprises proposal with that same gentle smile. The woman who, in that nightmare, had quietly inherited power and shares after Seraphina was gone.
God, what a strange dream. She laughed out in relief.
Samantha had been more than an assistant—she had been the friend who stayed late without being asked, who celebrated every launch with genuine excitement, who listened on the nights when the weight of the Hale name felt too heavy. Seraphina had been generous: promotions, bonuses, invitations to galas, even covering personal expenses when Samantha hinted at money being tight. She had been the perfect friend to her, had bought her support and love with whatever was necessary.
Samantha wore the exact outfit from the dream: crisp business casual, tailored blazer over a silk blouse, carrying a glass of water and a small plate of fresh fruit and pastries. Her expression was soft, laced with quiet concern.
There's no way Samantha could do that, Seraphina thought desperately. No way she could betray me. She's been my friend for so long.
But so had Evelyn. Her own sister. She had betrayed her so terribly by having an affair with her fiancé. And in the dream—or whatever that was—Evelyn had been the one to order her death.
"The stocks have fallen over fifty percent," Samantha said gently, setting the tray on the desk. "If we don't act soon, there's a real chance you'll lose control of the company. Your stepmother is already positioning herself to swoop in."
A violent shudder passed through Seraphina.
Those were the exact same words Samantha had said that day. In the exact same order. Word for word. In the exact same tone.
No. There's no way I've been reborn. No way.
"I'll take care of it," the response slipped automatically from her mouth—the same line from that godforsaken nightmare. Then, deliberately, testing, she repeated the same words as before: "Is there something you'd like to tell me?"
Oh God, please let me be wrong.
Please let my sister not have killed me. Please let my mother not have sided with Evelyn, not have hated me so terribly that she toasted and drank champagne at my death. I don't think my heart could take that. Please let Samantha's next words be different—anything different. Her entire sanity balanced on those words.
Samantha hesitated. "There… there is someone ready to invest. Golden Enterprises. They've been quietly inquiring about investment opportunities in luxury brands. Word is, they're looking for a partner who's bold, resilient… someone exactly like you."
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Horror flooded Seraphina's veins, cold and overwhelming. Dreams didn't predict the future—not scene for scene, line for line, down to the pastries and the exact practiced concern in Samantha's voice.
She had been reborn.
Reincarnated, given a second chance—whatever one called it, the truth was undeniable no matter how much she wanted to deny it. She would be killed by her own sister. The one who had never been quite as devoted despite all the love and care Seraphina had showered on her.
Seraphina drew a slow, steady breath to calm herself. Her mind raced—how was she going to survive? How was she going to navigate this with her own sister plotting against her?
Count.
One.
Two.
Three.
A calm settled over her. All that could be dealt with later.
A cold, calculated smile spread across Seraphina's face as she met Samantha's eyes.
"Golden Enterprises," she said, letting the name roll slowly across her tongue as though tasting poison. The cold smile curved her lips. She looked straight into Samantha's eyes, the smile sharpening to something almost predatory. "Let them search for another partner."
There's no way I lose this time.
Samantha blinked, caught off guard. Her lips trembled slightly, eyes filling with worry. "But… Seraphina, this could save the company. They're ready to move fast, and—"
"No."
The word cut through the air like a blade—calm but absolute.
Seraphina leaned back in her chair, fingers steepled, the panic of moments ago locked away behind a mask of perfect control.
Samantha hesitated, shifting the tray on the desk. "Are you sure? The numbers are—"
"I'm sure." Seraphina's voice was soft steel, her gaze unyielding.
For a split second, something flickered across Samantha's face—surprise, unease, perhaps the faintest trace of alarm—but it vanished as quickly as it came. She nodded, forcing a small, concerned smile. "Of course. Whatever you think is best."
Seraphina stared at Samantha's face, searching those familiar features for the girl she had once trusted without question.
How did we reach this point? How did I end up being betrayed by everyone I trusted?
Seeing the calm steadiness in Samantha's eyes, the lack of real protest, Seraphina finally understood.
Samantha had never truly been hers.
To Samantha, Seraphina had been the generous boss: powerful, admirable, but always slightly distant. Evelyn had claimed her loyalty first—with warmth, laughter, and the easy acceptance Seraphina, in her focused, driven way, had never quite mastered.
Seraphina knew what had to be done.
She rose slowly, walking around the desk. She placed a light, almost sisterly hand on Samantha's shoulder and said gently, "Samantha, you've been invaluable these past weeks. Truly. You've carried so much while I've been… distracted."
Samantha shifted, sensing the change in atmosphere. "Of course. That's what friends are for."
Seraphina nodded, letting a small, weary sigh escape. "Exactly. Which is why I've been thinking—you deserve a break. A real one. You've been running on empty for too long."
Samantha blinked. "A break?"
"Yes." Seraphina's touch remained gentle as she guided her toward the door. "An extended paid vacation. Starting today. Three months—maybe more. Go somewhere warm. Disconnect completely. You've earned it."
Samantha opened her mouth, confusion deepening. "But… the company needs—"
"The company will survive," Seraphina interrupted smoothly, her smile never wavering. "I need you rested and happy. When you're ready—if you're ready—you can let me know. No rush."
At the threshold, Seraphina paused, her voice dropping to a warm murmur. "HR will handle the details. Generous severance on top of the vacation pay, of course. You've been loyal, and I want to make sure you're taken care of." She squeezed Samantha's shoulder gently. "Enjoy the sun, Samantha. You deserve it."
Samantha hesitated one last moment, then nodded and stepped out.
The door closed softly.
Seraphina turned the lock.
One mole removed—cleanly, quietly, without a single raised voice.
She returned to her desk, opened her laptop, and typed two discreet emails: one to security revoking Samantha's access immediately—badges, emails, systems, everything; another to legal preparing a nondisclosure reinforcement and final payout.
By the time Samantha reached the lobby, her keycard would already be dead.
Seraphina exhaled slowly, the predator's smile returning in full force.
One down.
Now it was time to start dismantling the rest of the web—before Evelyn even realized the spider had changed.
She picked up her phone, her finger hovering over the contact.
Aurora.
Her next target.