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Reborn Wife's Sweet Revenge Novel Cover

Reborn Wife's Sweet Revenge

I gasped awake, my heart hammering against my ribs as consciousness slammed into me like a physical force. The silk sheets beneath me felt cool and familiar—too familiar. My trembling fingers traced the delicate Art Deco pattern embroidered on the duvet cover, the one I'd personally selected seven years ago when we first moved into the penthouse. This couldn't be real. My gaze darted around the room, taking in the cream-colored walls, the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Central Park, and the ornate mahogany furniture that had been in my family for generations. Most prominently, my father's portrait hung on the far wall, his stern yet loving eyes seeming to follow me. "Daddy," I whispered, my voice cracking. The last time I'd seen this room, this portrait, was before... Then I heard it—a light, feminine giggle floating from the master bathroom, followed by the steady hiss of the shower. The sound cut through me like a blade of ice, instantly crystallizing my scattered thoughts.
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Chapter 3

The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon when I heard the crunch of tires on the gravel driveway. I'd been awake all night, poring over old documents in my father's study, preparing for the arrival of my war council. My body should have been exhausted, but adrenaline kept me sharp, focused. This was my rebirth, after all—my second chance to right the wrongs that had destroyed me before.

I moved to the window, watching as a sleek black car pulled up to the entrance. Ethan Hayes emerged first, his tall frame unfolding from the backseat, a leather briefcase clutched in his hand. Even after a transatlantic flight, he looked impeccable in his tailored suit, not a silver hair out of place. The financial wizard my father had trusted above all others.

Behind him came Leo Vance, shorter and broader, his movements efficient and purposeful as he surveyed the property with a security expert's eye. Under his arm, he carried what looked like rolled-up blueprints. The operations guru who could make impossible logistics happen overnight.

"You made good time," I said, opening the front door before they could knock.

Ethan's eyes widened slightly at my appearance—I knew I looked different from the soft, trusting woman they'd left behind when Marcus sent them overseas. My hair was pulled back in a severe ponytail, my face bare of makeup, my eyes hard with purpose.

"The moment Alexander called, we were on the move," Ethan replied, stepping inside. "He's arranging for additional resources. He'll join us shortly."

Leo nodded curtly. "The house needs better security. I've brought preliminary plans for immediate implementation."

No pleasantries, no questions about my welfare or what had happened. These men understood that time was of the essence. My father had chosen them well.

"This way," I said, leading them to the study that had become my command center overnight.

Ethan let out a low whistle as he entered the room. I'd transformed it completely, clearing my father's antique desk to make space for multiple laptops. Financial reports and company documents covered every available surface. On one wall, I'd created a makeshift organizational chart of Blackwood Industries, with red markers indicating executives loyal to Marcus.

"You've been busy," Leo remarked, immediately unrolling his blueprints across an empty table.

"I've had years to think about this moment," I replied, not bothering to explain the literal truth of that statement. "Ethan, what do you have for me?"

Ethan opened his briefcase and extracted a thick folder of spreadsheets. "I've been tracking the company's financials remotely. Marcus has been keeping margins artificially narrow, possibly to justify cost-cutting measures that would eliminate positions held by your father's old guard."

"He's preparing for a complete takeover," I said, scanning the numbers. "Creating a financial crisis he can solve by pushing me out entirely."

"Precisely," Ethan confirmed, his finger tracing along a particularly concerning projection. "If we don't act quickly, he'll have manufactured enough evidence to convince the board that the company is failing under your influence."

Leo spread his security blueprints across another table. "The estate's current security is laughable. New cameras, reinforced entry points, secure communications—we need it all, and we need it yesterday."

The door opened again, and Alexander Pierce strode in, his presence immediately filling the room. Unlike Ethan and Leo, he looked like he'd been through hell—his suit rumpled, dark circles under his eyes, his jawline shadowed with stubble. But his gaze was sharp, focused entirely on me.

"Victoria," he said, my name carrying a weight of unspoken questions.

"Alexander," I acknowledged with a slight nod. "Thank you for coming so quickly."

For a moment, something flickered in his eyes—concern, perhaps, or confusion at my businesslike tone. In my previous life, I'd been warm with him, friendly. That Victoria was gone now.

"Gentlemen," I said, moving to the center of the room. "Welcome to Operation Clean Slate."

I gestured for them to gather around my father's desk, where I'd laid out my initial strategy. "Ethan, I need you to audit every bank account, every financial transaction Marcus has made in the last three years. Find the money trail."

Ethan nodded, already making notes.

"Leo, security is your priority. Not just here, but digital security as well. I want new protocols for all communication between us."

"Consider it done," Leo said firmly.

I turned to Alexander last, holding his gaze steadily. "And you, Alexander, will be my right hand. I need you to gather evidence against Marcus—legally admissible evidence. Every dirty deal, every corporate secret, every lie."

Alexander studied me with an intensity that might have made the old Victoria uncomfortable. "And what will you be doing while we handle these tasks?"

A cold smile touched my lips. "I'm going to start by taking away the things Marcus values most. Beginning with our Manhattan penthouse."

I picked up my phone and dialed a number I knew by heart. "Julian? It's Victoria Blackwood. I need you to list a property for immediate auction. Yes, the penthouse. Under a shell LLC, of course. I don't want Marcus to know until it's too late."

As I spoke, I caught Alexander watching me with a mixture of surprise and something else—approval, perhaps, or admiration. He didn't yet understand the depth of my plans for revenge, but he would soon enough.

We all would.

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