Reborn To Claim My Billionaire Enemy

The screen door of the Thornton house slammed open with the force of a gunshot. Blanca charged down the wooden porch steps. She still held a greasy metal spatula tightly in her right fist. She moved with the terrifying speed and aggression of a mother bear protecting her cub. Blanca grabbed Delois by the shoulders and yanked her backward, placing her own sturdy body firmly between her daughter and Jessi Hawkins. Blanca raised the spatula, pointing the metal edge directly at the tip of Jessi's nose. Her chest heaved with fury. "Shut your filthy mouth, Jessi!" Blanca yelled, her voice vibrating with raw anger. "Don't you dare come onto my property and put your hands on my daughter!" Jessi didn't flinch. She straightened her spine, pushing her chest out. She looked Blanca up and down with an expression of absolute contempt. "Your daughter is a joke, Blanca," Jessi sneered, her voice dripping with venom. "The whole town knows she threw herself in the river because that city boy wouldn't look twice at her. And now she's trying to drag my son down into the mud with her." Blanca let out a sharp, bitter laugh. Her grip on the spatula tightened until her knuckles turned stark white. "Your son?" Blanca mocked loudly. "Your son is a violent street thug who does nothing but get into bar fights! He's the one trespassing on my land!" The sheer volume of their screaming acted like a siren. Across the street, curtains twitched. Front doors creaked open. Neighbors stepped out onto their porches, crossing their arms, their eyes wide with eager anticipation. Jessi noticed the audience. Her face flushed a deep, angry red. Her perfectly manicured fingers curled into tight fists. She decided to go for the throat. "At least my son isn't a product of a manipulative, desperate family!" Jessi screamed, making sure every person in the crowd heard her. "We all know exactly what kind of blood runs in your veins, Blanca! You've been using dirty, underhanded tricks since we were girls, and now you're teaching your daughter to do the exact same thing!" A collective, low gasp rippled through the watching neighbors. The older residents leaned in, their eyes gleaming at the mention of the decades-old scandal. Blanca's eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. A cold, cruel smile spread across her lips. "Underhanded tricks?" Blanca laughed, the sound harsh and grating. "You're just projecting your own pathetic history onto my daughter! You couldn't trap the man you wanted back then, so you settled for whoever could buy you those cheap pearls around your neck! Don't you stand there and act like a victim, Jessi! You're nothing but a bitter, jealous woman who can't stand the sight of us!" Jessi's face drained of color, then rapidly flooded with a dark, mottled purple. She let out an incoherent shriek of pure rage. The argument completely derailed. The two women began hurling decades of buried resentment, jealousy, and ugly secrets at each other like verbal grenades. Behind Blanca, Gonzalo and the brothers stood like a wall of muscle. They couldn't jump into a fight between older women, but they glared at Jessi, their bodies tense and ready to intervene. Bart stood beside his mother. His face was a mask of dark, thunderous anger. His jaw was locked so tight a muscle ticked violently in his cheek. He stared at the ground, his chest tight with a suffocating sense of humiliation. He reached out and grabbed Jessi's elbow, his grip firm. "Mom. Stop. Let's go," Bart ordered, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. Jessi violently jerked her arm out of his grasp. "Don't tell me what to do!" she snapped at him, before turning back to hurl another insult at Blanca. Delois stood trapped behind her mother. The screaming voices pounded against her eardrums. The adrenaline from the boar attack was fading, leaving behind a sickening wave of dizziness. The dull ache in the back of her head suddenly flared into a blinding, stabbing agony. The world tilted on its axis. She watched her mother drop the spatula. She saw Jessi drop her expensive leather purse. Both women raised their hands, their fingers curling into claws, ready to physically tear each other's hair out. If they fought, the blood feud would be sealed forever. The town would never let them forget it. Delois knew she had to stop it. She closed her eyes, took a shallow breath, and decided to fake a fainting spell to break the tension. She let her knees buckle. She allowed her body to go limp, falling backward. But her spatial awareness was completely ruined by the concussion. She misjudged her position. Instead of landing on the soft grass, her heel caught the edge of the bottom wooden porch step. Her body twisted violently out of control. Gravity ripped her downward.