Reborn To Marry My Billionaire Rival

Felicity stared at the dying screen of her only remaining lifeline. Her muscles screamed in protest as she gripped the cold metal tighter.

The harsh, blinding light of the incoming notification illuminated the pitch-black cabin.

A secure video file from her adopted sister, Brinley, sat in the center of the screen.

The loading circle spun agonizingly slow, tethered to a single bar of signal. It pulled taut the very last thread of her sanity.

Felicity couldn't use her fingers. She pressed her numb chin against the play button.

The video jerked violently. Brinley's flawless, innocent face filled the screen, her lips twisted into a sickeningly sweet smile.

"Hey, big sister," Brinley chirped. The tinny audio sliced through the howling wind.

Brinley held up a stack of documents. The camera zoomed in on a private jet maintenance log.

"Thought you should know before you freeze to death," Brinley laughed. "Mom and Dad's plane crash? Not an accident."

Felicity's pupils dilated to the size of saucers. Her stomach violently dropped, as if she had been kicked off a cliff.

"Brandt and I planned the whole thing," Brinley continued, her eyes gleaming with malice. "The kidnapping, too. We need the Klein family trust fund, and you were just... in the way."

A massive wave of bile and blood surged up Felicity's throat. She coughed violently, spraying warm, crimson blood across the glowing screen.

The red droplets smeared across Brinley's laughing face.

"Enjoy the snow, Felicity," Brinley whispered, blowing a kiss to the camera.

The video auto-deleted. The screen went black.

Felicity bit down on her lower lip until her teeth broke the skin. Hot blood trickled down her chin. She wanted to scream, to smash the phone into a million pieces, but her arms were paralyzed.

The sheer force of her rage burned through the last of her body heat. Massive black patches swallowed her vision.

The wooden beams of the cabin groaned under the weight of the blizzard, a morbid lullaby for her final moments.

Her breathing reduced to shallow, ragged gasps.

Her life flashed before her eyes-the Oscar nominations, the flashing cameras, the hollow love she had begged for. It was all a lie.

Her eyelids felt like they were made of lead. They fluttered shut.

Suddenly, a deafening crash shook the entire cabin.

A massive, violent force slammed into the rotting front door.

Felicity's fading consciousness hitched. She forced her eyes open a fraction of a millimeter.

The heavy wooden door, frame and all, was kicked completely off its hinges. It flew into the room, followed by a violent swirl of snow and killing intent.

A towering, broad-shouldered silhouette stood in the doorway, backlit by the raging storm.

The man stepped inside. His heavy military boots crunched over the broken glass, the sound sharp and terrifying.

He crossed the room in three massive strides and dropped to his knees beside her.

Collins Saunders. The man who had fought her at every turn in the business world, the one she had supposedly hated, was actually standing here in the flesh.

He was covered in snow, his chest heaving. He reached out with trembling hands and pulled her frozen, stiff body into his arms.

His touch was impossibly gentle. He ripped off his heavy, body-warmed cashmere coat and wrapped it tightly around her.

His large, rough hands cupped her ice-cold face. "Felicity," he choked out, his voice completely shredded by fear.

Felicity forced her eyes to focus. She stared at the man she had publicly despised for years. Shock paralyzed her vocal cords.

Collins pressed her tightly against his massive, burning chest, desperately trying to transfer his body heat into her dying frame.

He buried his face in her frozen hair. Hot, heavy tears dropped from his eyes, landing on her eyelashes and melting the frost.

The walls she had built against him for a decade shattered into dust.

She opened her mouth to speak, but only a wet, broken gurgle came out. Fresh blood spilled over her lips.

"No, no, no," Collins panicked. He used the cuff of his custom-made silk shirt to wipe the blood from her mouth.

He turned his head toward the doorway, his eyes bloodshot and wild. "Get the chopper down here now!" he roared at the shadows outside.

The faint, rhythmic thumping of helicopter blades echoed over the mountain peak, but Felicity knew it was useless.

Her organs were shutting down.

She marshaled the absolute last ounce of her strength. She lifted her trembling, bloody hand toward his face.

She wanted to smooth the deep, agonizing crease between his brows.

Her icy fingertips barely brushed against his sharp jawline.

Then, the last spark of life extinguished. Her hand dropped, falling limply through the air to hit the floorboards.

Collins let out a guttural, soul-tearing scream that ripped through the frozen valley. He crushed her lifeless body against his chest.

Felicity's world went completely black, but in that final millisecond, the sensation of his burning tears branded itself into her soul.