The Cold-Hearted CEO's Reborn Lover

A week later, Cleopatra was jolted awake by a message from Katie, summoning her to the INK Model Company. She rose immediately, freshened up, and in the midst of breakfast, her gaze drifted to the wardrobe she'd already inspected, nothing inside would truly make her shine. Once she finished her meal, Cleopatra rose from the table, neatly clearing away her plate before stepping outside. She headed toward a nearby department store renowned for its collection of designer wear, her strides purposeful as a quiet resolve settled in her chest. "Good morning, ma'am. How may I assist you?" one of the attendants said, dressed in a crisp uniform as he ushered her inside. "What's your style? We can help you achieve the perfect look," the staff member added, his tone warm and inviting. "Hmm..." Cleopatra replied, after a brief pause. "I'll go with a shorter sexy gown," "Right this way, ma'am," he said, leading her forward with a polite, guiding gesture. Cleopatra moved through the racks with the staff, her fingers grazing the fabrics as they sifted through the store's designer collection. Amid the rustle of silk and chiffon, a familiar voice cut through the ambient murmur, sharp and unmistakable. Her heart skipped a beat. Without hesitation, she excused herself, weaving quietly between the displays to get a glimpse. There, seated elegantly on a pair of plush chairs, were Guinevere and her mother, Emilia, engrossed in conversation, their laughter and gentle gestures painting a scene both intimate and commanding. Cleopatra's eyes lingered, curiosity and a flicker of tension coiling in her chest. "How are your modeling gigs going? Having any trouble on set?" Emilia asked, her hand gesturing with authority toward the outfits the staff presented, as if commanding the clothes themselves to obey her discerning eye. "Nothing new, still stuck at the bottom," Guinevere snapped, irritation dripping from every word. "I don't get why that incompetent idiot of a manager can't even get through to Calvin." She averted her gaze from the staff displaying the clothes. "That reminds me, I saw Calvin on the news," Emilia said, astonished. "Honey, he's not only incredibly handsome, but talented. You need to catch his attention." "I've been busting my ass for six damn years trying to get his attention," Guinevere snapped, venom lacing every word. "And he hasn't even glanced my way! All he cares about is that worthless Cleo." "What do you mean, Cleo? Isn't she supposed to be in Castren District?" Emilia asked, her eyes narrowing as they locked onto Guinevere with sharp curiosity. "She's back," Guinevere said, running a hand through her hair, frustration and disbelief etched across her face. "She arrived in Marvale a month or two ago, I'm not exactly sure and she seems so different from before. She's like an entirely different person. Oh, my head I don't know, maybe I'm imagining things, but she really does act differently now." "What's wrong with that foolish girl?" Emilia scoffed, her eyes narrowing in disbelief. "Wasn't she all over Anthony back then even going so far as to lie that he tried to rape her?" "Is she going around seducing every man she sets her sights on?" Emilia's voice dripped with disgust. "Insolent. She should know her place and not let her beauty go to her head. But tell me, why is her being around causing you problems?" "She's all over Calvin now, dangling for his attention like a predator circling its prey!" Guinevere's voice trembled with a mix of fury and panic. Her legs bounced uncontrollably beneath her, and her hands gripped them tightly, knuckles white, as if holding herself together could somehow contain the storm of frustration raging inside her. "What am I supposed to do if they get together, Mom? I can't... I just can't stand it!" Cleopatra felt no desire to continue eavesdropping. She turned to leave, but then Emilia dropped a bombshell that froze her in place; a revelation so shocking, it was something Cleopatra had never noticed in her past life. "How shameless can she be?" Emilia sneered, her voice thick with venom. "I suppose the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, like mother, like daughter. I could never stand her mother when she was alive. She spared me the trouble by dying in that accident with her husband. Otherwise, I would still be compared to her by your father. I was so tired of seeing that irritating face, always pretending to be kind while painting me as the villain." Her words dripped with unrestrained hatred. "Really, Mom? I had no idea Dad compared you to her," Guinevere said, her eyes widening in surprise. "Honestly, that accident saved my face. If she hadn't been so hardworking and constantly busy with her husband, I might have thought she and your father had an entanglement," Emilia said, her laughter bitter. "Bringing Cleopatra into the house after their death wasn't my decision, it was your father's." "Bloody hell, Mom! I always thought it was your decision to let her stay," Guinevere exclaimed, sitting up abruptly, her mouth opening in stunned surprise. "Nah. I could never stand her mother, so how could I possibly tolerate her daughter? Disgusting," Emilia said, pointing sharply at a dress the staff had just displayed. The staff member attending Cleopatra approached her and tapped gently. "Excuse me, ma'am, aren't you interested in this design?" Cleopatra's world seemed to tilt violently as the words sank in. Her head spun, her vision blurred, and a crushing weight pressed on her chest. Staggering, she felt her knees weaken, tears stinging the corners of her eyes as panic and disbelief surged through her. Her voice caught in her throat, unable to form words, and the staff quickly rushed to her side, wrapping steadying arms around her as she trembled, on the brink of a full emotional breakdown. "Ma'am, are you alright?" he asked, concern etching his face. "Restroom... restroom... your restroom," Cleopatra mumbled incoherently, her voice trembling. "That way," he said gently, guiding her. "Let me take you there." The staff guided her to the restroom, and Cleopatra stumbled inside. She went straight to the sink, twisting the tap and splashing cold water onto her face, trying to steady herself. Her heart pounded violently, each breath coming in ragged gasps as a sinking dread gripped her chest. 'What did I just hear? How could she take pleasure in someone's death, especially one caused by such a tragic accident? Mrs. Emilia never liked us? How could she have kept it hidden around Mom? How could she pretend so subtly, so perfectly? Was this something from my past life, or did I simply never notice? All this time, so much hatred. And Mom... Mom never did anything to deserve even a fraction of it.' Her thoughts swirled relentlessly through her mind as she stared into the mirror. "Can I really fight this..." she sighed, her voice barely more than a whisper. "Can I rewrite my destiny?" She clenched the edge of the sink, determination flaring within her. "I won't give up. I can still make it to that gate." Gradually, her confidence built, only to be instantly replaced by a surge of courage. She stepped out of the restroom with steady, purposeful strides, drawn to a dress that seemed to call her name. After paying, she slipped out through the side exit, the evening breeze brushing gently against her face. When she arrived home, Ana was already there, standing by the door as if she had been waiting for her all along. "Hi, Ana. What are you doing here?" Cleopatra asked, her eyes drifting to the package Ana held. "Wow! You're seriously asking me what I'm doing here?" Ana snapped, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "Have you already forgotten? You specifically asked me this morning to bring you a new set of beauty products!" "Oh, yes. I'm so sorry, I completely forgot. Come in." Cleopatra said, laughter bubbling between her words. "I... I can't," Ana stammered. "I'm still on duty. I only came to deliver this because you said it was urgent. And honestly, I was stunned when you asked for beauty products. You owe me the tea, and you must spill it all. I have to go now, bye!" Cleopatra glided into the bathroom, shedding the day with ease before slipping into her new plum gown an Orchid-colored vision of elegance. The sleeveless design traced her shoulders, plunging into a V-shaped neckline that hinted at her cleavage, while the open back was threaded with delicate laces that crisscrossed along her upper back. The plum gown draped over her thighs, resting softly against her skin. Soft and enticing, accentuating every graceful curve. She settled in front of the mirror, curling her hair and applying makeup with painstaking care. The reflection staring back at her was mesmerizing, too beautiful, too perfect. A soft smile curved her lips, filled with pride and a quiet affection for the effort she had poured into her appearance. "Now, it's time to see Calvin,"she murmured, a flicker of anticipation igniting in her eyes.