Reborn To Choose His Brother

As night fell, the Hawthorne Foundation’s annual charity gala bloomed to life in the grand ballroom of the city’s most opulent hotel.

I stood alone near the edge of the ballroom, a quiet observer of the glittering spectacle. Massive crystal chandeliers bathed the room in a diamond-like glow, illuminating business magnates who mingled with champagne flutes in hand, each face a perfectly composed social mask.

I wore a simple yet elegant midnight-blue gown, a sliver of quiet darkness amid the sea of sequined and glittering designs. As a few socialites drifted past, their whispers caught my ear.

"Avalon's all by herself..."

"Hasn't Preston arrived? The nerve."

"I heard their engagement is just around the corner..."

I lifted my champagne flute, my face impassive, and took a delicate sip. In my past life, I’d have been anxiously smoothing the fabric of my skirt, my eyes glued to the entrance, waiting for Preston.

But tonight, I was just waiting for the show to begin.

Preston finally made his entrance, his bespoke Tom Ford tuxedo making him look sharper and more handsome than ever.

But only I knew the corrupted heart that beat beneath that flawless facade.

Sloane was on his arm, draped in a dramatic scarlet gown.

A perfect match, I thought dryly, taking another sip of wine.

A ripple of hushed whispers spread through the room. Tradition dictated he should have entered with his fiancée—with me.

"Oh, Avalon's over there," Sloane said, feigning surprise as if she’d only just spotted me. "Preston, shouldn't you go say hello?"

Preston shot a strange look in my direction before waving a dismissive hand. "She's fine. Avalon has always been fiercely independent."

A few of the younger heirs nearby let out soft, knowing chuckles.

I remained exactly where I was, my expression a careful blank.

My stillness seemed to irritate him, and his brow furrowed in annoyance.

The music swelled, and Preston led Sloane to the center of the dance floor. They moved as one, their steps elegant and flawlessly synchronized, as if they'd been born partners. The crowd instinctively parted, their gazes drawn to the captivating pair.

"Avalon, aren't you even a little mad?"

I turned to find Piper, the youngest Hawthorne daughter, at my elbow. She was in a flirty pink mini-dress, her face alight with an undisguised hunger for drama.

"Why would I be?" I asked.

"Your fiancé is dancing with another woman, and he was late..." Piper's eyes searched mine, hungry for a reaction. "Everyone is watching."

"Then let them watch," I said, my voice calm.

Piper, deflated by my lack of response, pouted and flounced away.

When the music faded, Preston and Sloane made their way toward me. A playful, cruel smile touched Preston's lips.

"You seem remarkably calm, Avalon," he said, stopping before me. "I was expecting fireworks."

"Why would you?"

My composure seemed to unnerve him, and a flicker of anger flashed in his eyes.

"You're right. You'll be a Hawthorne soon enough," he said, pulling a small velvet box from his pocket. "This is for you."

Inside, nestled on a bed of silk, lay a pair of platinum cufflinks, exquisitely engraved with the Hawthorne family crest—a one-of-a-kind design by Cartier.

"This is..."

"A family tradition," Preston announced, his voice just loud enough to draw the attention of those nearby. "These cufflinks are a gift for the future matriarch of the Hawthorne Group. The style is a bit classic, I know, but I'm sure you'll grow to like them."

I stared at the cufflinks. A bitter memory surfaced: in my past life, Preston had given me the very same gift, and I had been moved to tears. I’d only learned later he had casually plucked them from his vast collection of trinkets.

"Oh, how beautiful!" Sloane exclaimed, reaching out a hand. "Those cufflinks are exquisite. The design… it's a masterpiece!" Her fingertips grazed the platinum, her eyes shimmering with unconcealed desire.

"You like them?" Preston asked Sloane, his voice instantly softening.

"I… of course I love them, but they belong to Avalon..." Sloane bit her lip, playing the perfect tragic heroine, denied her heart’s desire.

Preston looked from my stoic face to Sloane's performance and then smiled.

"Well, if Sloane likes them this much..." he said, plucking the box from my hand, "then I suppose they suit you better."

He proceeded to fasten one cufflink to the sleeve of Sloane’s scarlet gown and the other to his own cuff. The message was as clear as a declaration of war.

Audible gasps went through the onlookers.

"Did he just give his fiancée's gift to another woman?"

"Look at Avalon's face..."

"How utterly humiliating..."

The scene from my past life replayed in my mind: the tears, the panicked flight from the ballroom, the days of mockery that followed.

But this time, I just watched in silence.

"Avalon, aren't you going to say anything?" Preston goaded, his eyes daring me to crack.

"They suit her," I said.

Preston’s smirk froze. This was not going according to his script.

"I'm feeling a bit tired. I think I'll be leaving," I said, turning to go.

"Stop," Preston's voice was suddenly cold. "You're just going to leave?"

I stopped and turned back to him.

"What else is there to do?"

"Do you have any idea how disrespectful you're being?" he snarled, striding toward me, his face a thundercloud. "You should be grateful I'm even willing to marry you, not giving me this attitude."

"Grateful?" I laughed, a short, sharp sound. "For what?"

"For the chance to marry into the Hawthorne family!" Preston's voice rose. "Who else do you think would want you?"

The crowd held its breath, all eyes on us.

"You think those other men sniffing around were serious?" Preston pressed on. "Marcus? He just wanted your family's design contracts. William? He wouldn't look twice at you. As for the others..."

He paused, a venomous look in his eyes.

"Like my worthless brother, Sterling. You're not naive enough to think he's a viable option, are you?"

Preston scoffed. "He's an invalid who can barely walk. A drain on the family's resources. The man could wind up in the ICU at any given moment. You want to marry him and become a widow before the ink on your marriage certificate is dry?"

The ballroom fell so silent you could hear a pin drop.

Everyone waited to see how I would break.