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Reborn From Ashes: The Billionaire's Obsession Novel Cover

Reborn From Ashes: The Billionaire's Obsession

I trusted the wrong people in my past life. My supposed lover and my sweet sister conspired against me, locking me inside a burning warehouse to die. But the man I had spent my life hating, my ruthless captor Damien Sterling, rushed straight into that inferno and burned alive just to try and save me. In my past life, I was utterly blind. I believed Julian's forged documents and Scarlett's fake affection. I even tried to assassinate Damien with a silver dagger they provided, breaking the heart of the only man who truly loved me. I died choking on thick ash, realizing too late who the real monsters were. Why was I so incredibly foolish? Why did I let their vicious manipulation turn me into a weapon against the one person who would sacrifice absolutely everything for me? Opening my eyes again, the phantom smell of smoke vanished. I was sitting in the bloody water of Damien's bathtub, right after my staged suicide attempt. When my sister sneaked into my penthouse suite and handed me the dagger to kill him again, I didn't hesitate. I grabbed her hand tightly and plunged the sharp blade directly into my own shoulder. "Please don't kill me, Scarlett!" This time, I will ruthlessly ruin them both, and I will never let Damien go.
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Chapter 2

Pierce rushed into the master bedroom. He held a heavy, silver premium trauma medical kit in both hands.

The assistant stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes widened slightly at the sight of the bright red blood smeared across Damien's bespoke suit jacket.

Damien snatched the heavy kit from Pierce's hands. He didn't even bother to look up from Cordelia's pale face.

Damien barked a harsh order: "Leave. Now. Close the door behind you."

Pierce nodded quickly. He stepped backward and exited. The heavy mahogany double doors clicked shut, sealing them inside the silent room.

Damien dropped the kit onto the mattress. His hands were steady, but a muscle jumped in his jaw as he popped the metal latches open, his movements slightly jerky in a stark contrast to his usual controlled grace.

He pulled out antiseptic wipes, sterile gauze pads, and a roll of white medical tape with practiced, rigid efficiency.

Cordelia watched his tense jawline. Her heart ached with a profound, suffocating regret for her past blindness.

Damien carefully untied the ruined, blood-soaked silk tie from her wrist. He tossed the expensive fabric onto the floor without a second glance.

He ripped open a square packet. He pressed the cold, chemical-soaked antiseptic wipe directly against the shallow cut.

Cordelia hissed sharply in pain. Her body instinctively pulled back, sinking deeper into the soft pillows.

Damien's grip tightened instantly on her forearm. He held her arm firmly in place, his fingers digging slightly into her skin to prevent her from jerking away and causing further injury.

He glared down at her. His voice dripped with icy, biting sarcasm: "What's wrong? That hurt? For someone who supposedly wanted to die, you have got a remarkably low pain tolerance."

Cordelia bit her lower lip hard. She forced her muscles to relax, remaining perfectly still under his rough but necessary touch.

Damien's harsh expression softened for a microsecond. He gently, almost reverently, cleaned the dried flakes of blood from her pale skin.

He took a square of sterile gauze. He wrapped it carefully around her wrist, applying perfect, even pressure before securing it.

Cordelia took a deep, shaky breath. She mustered every ounce of courage she had left to explain her past actions and clear the suffocating air between them.

She opened her mouth. Her voice was raspy but clear: "Julian lied to me. About the corporate documents."

Damien froze completely.

The roll of white medical tape slipped from his fingers. It bounced off the mattress and rolled onto the hardwood floor.

The air in the massive bedroom seemed to drop ten degrees. His posture turned rigidly, terrifyingly hostile.

He slowly looked up. His dark eyes were filled with a violent, swirling storm of possessive jealousy.

Damien grabbed her shoulders through the thick comforter. He pinned her back against the tufted leather headboard with overwhelming force.

He snarled, his face mere inches from hers: "You are never leaving this penthouse for Julian Carlisle. Not as long as I have breath in my lungs."

Cordelia shook her head desperately. She tried to force out the words: "I hate him now. I want nothing to do with him--"

Damien cut her off. His voice cracked with a raw, suppressed agony: "You tried to kill yourself as a negotiation tactic? To get back to your lover? That is sick. That is sick, Cordelia."

He released her shoulders abruptly. He stepped back, stumbling slightly as if he had been physically burned by her proximity.

Damien turned his back to her. He ran a trembling hand through his perfectly styled dark hair, ruining the expensive cut.

He kicked the heavy wooden leg of the bedside table. The impact rattled the remaining medical supplies, a raw display of his explosive frustration. Cordelia flinched at the sudden violence, pulling the comforter tighter around herself.

Cordelia shrank back against the pillows. Her stomach plummeted. She realized her poorly chosen words had just triggered his deepest, most painful insecurity.

Damien marched toward the bedroom door. He didn't look back. He left her entirely alone in the center of the massive bed.

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