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Reborn To Marry My Billionaire Rival Novel Cover

Reborn To Marry My Billionaire Rival

I was freezing to death in an abandoned cabin, desperately waiting for my fiancé to save me. Instead, my phone flickered with a video from my adopted sister. She was smiling as she confessed that she and my fiancé had orchestrated my kidnapping, and my parents' fatal plane crash, just to steal my family's trust fund. When I called him with my dying breath, he mocked me for faking a PR stunt and hung up. I died in the sub-zero blizzard, consumed by absolute despair. But as a ghost, I watched my greatest business rival, the ruthless billionaire Collins, kick down the doors of my mansion. He didn't just mourn me. He shot my fiancé, trapped my sister, and set the entire place on fire, choosing to burn alive in the inferno just to avenge me. I couldn't understand why the man I had publicly despised for a decade loved me so fiercely, while the people I gave everything to wanted me dead. Opening my eyes again, I was back backstage on the night I won my Oscar, four years ago. My fiancé smiled, holding out his arms to hug me. I pushed him away in disgust, marched straight into the crowded theater, and kissed my billionaire rival on live television. "Let's get married tomorrow." This time, I would use him to burn them all to the ground.
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Chapter 4

Collins shifted his wrist downward in a blur of motion.

He pulled the trigger.

The deafening crack of the gunshot echoed off the high ceilings. The bullet tore straight through Brandt's right kneecap.

Brandt let out a high-pitched, agonizing squeal. His leg buckled, and he collapsed onto the Persian rug, clutching his shattered knee as blood pumped through his fingers.

Behind the sofa, Brinley screamed in pure terror. She scrambled on her hands and knees toward the back patio doors.

Two massive bodyguards grabbed her by the hair and dragged her back, throwing her onto the floor next to Brandt.

Collins stared down at Brandt with dead, empty eyes. He lifted his heavy leather boot and stomped directly onto the bullet wound, grinding his heel into the shattered bone.

Brandt howled, his face turning purple. "Please! Please! It was her idea!" He pointed a shaking, bloody finger at Brinley. "She hacked the plane! She hired the kidnappers!"

Brinley's eyes bulged. "You lying piece of trash! You paid them!" she shrieked, spitting at him.

Felicity floated above them, nausea rolling through her phantom body. They were pathetic, rabid dogs turning on each other to survive.

Collins didn't care about their confessions. He raised two fingers.

The bodyguards stepped forward, carrying heavy steel jerrycans.

The sharp, toxic stench of high-octane gasoline flooded the room. The men poured the fuel over the custom leather sofas, the drapes, and the expensive rugs.

Brandt smelled the fumes. His eyes rolled back in panic. He dragged his bleeding body across the floor, leaving a thick red smear, trying to reach Collins' boots.

Collins kicked him in the jaw, sending him sprawling.

He reached into his trench coat and pulled out a small, velvet jewelry box. It was frozen solid.

He ran his thumb over the velvet. The psychotic rage in his eyes instantly melted into a hollow, devastating tenderness.

"Get out. Lock the doors," Collins ordered his men.

The bodyguards didn't hesitate. They marched out, pulling the heavy shattered doors shut behind them, sealing the mansion.

Brandt and Brinley realized what was happening. They scrambled toward the reinforced, bulletproof windows, pounding on the glass and screaming for help.

Felicity's soul dropped to the floor. She rushed to Collins, waving her transparent hands frantically in front of his face. "No! Collins, don't do this!"

Her phantom tears fell, evaporating before they hit the ground.

Collins paused. He slowly lifted his head, looking directly at the empty space where Felicity was standing.

A faint, broken smile touched his lips.

He pulled a lit silver Zippo lighter from his pocket, the blue flame already dancing steadily in his palm. Lighting it in this gasoline-heavy air would have blown them all to hell prematurely. He stared at the dancing fire for a fraction of a second.

Then, without a moment of hesitation, he opened his fingers and let it drop.

The second the flame touched the rug, a massive wall of fire erupted. The heat wave blasted across the room, consuming the furniture in seconds.

The crystal chandelier above them superheated and exploded, raining shards of glass into the inferno.

Brandt and Brinley were swallowed by the flames. Their clothes caught fire, and their screams turned into inhuman, gargling shrieks.

Collins stood perfectly still in the center of the blaze. The fire licked up his trench coat. He didn't flinch.

He clutched the velvet box to his heart and closed his eyes.

The intense, blinding light of the fire pierced Felicity's soul. The heat couldn't burn her, but the spiritual pressure tore at her consciousness.

The massive marble pillars of the mansion cracked under the extreme temperature. The ceiling groaned and collapsed, burying Collins under tons of burning rubble.

Felicity let out a silent, agonizing scream.

The space around her began to fracture like a broken mirror.

A massive, cosmic force slammed into her chest. The fire, the smoke, and the ruins were swallowed by a blinding, absolute white light.

She felt a violent sensation of falling backward through time.

In the final millisecond before her consciousness faded, she made a vow to the universe: If I get a second chance, I will burn them all to the ground.

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