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The Jilted Heiress And Her Spectacular Rebirth Novel Cover

The Jilted Heiress And Her Spectacular Rebirth

Kelsi Owens stood in front of the mirror in a six-figure gown, ready to marry into the wealthy Harrington family. But her fiancé, Jeb, didn't even look at her. He abandoned her right in the middle of the fitting because his widowed sister-in-law, Seraphina, called crying. That same night, Kelsi collapsed on her apartment floor with a ruptured appendix. Sweating and in blinding agony, she called Jeb for help. Instead of concern, she heard Seraphina laughing and party music blaring in the background. Jeb just snapped at her. "Stop being dramatic. Seraphina is the guest of honor tonight. I can't leave." He hung up, leaving her to call her own ambulance. Kelsi woke up from emergency surgery completely alone, only to receive a cold text from Jeb calling her fragile. To make matters worse, her toxic adoptive family didn't care that she almost died. They demanded she crawl back and apologize to Jeb just so they could keep leeching off her connections and trust fund. Lying in that cold hospital bed, the illusion finally shattered. For three years, she had always been the one left waiting. She realized she meant absolutely nothing to the people she loved. Kelsi didn't cry, and she didn't beg. She calmly texted Jeb to call off the engagement, blocked his number, and cut ties with her greedy relatives forever. She was finally walking away. What she didn't know was that the city's most ruthless billionaire had been watching her, and he was already weaving a golden net to claim her for himself.
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Chapter 2

Kelsi woke up to a sharp, burning sensation slicing across her lower stomach.

She sucked in a harsh breath, her eyes flying open. The harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital ceiling blinded her for a second. The heavy smell of bleach and rubbing alcohol filled her nose.

She turned her head. The room was empty. A heart monitor beeped steadily next to her bed.

The anesthesia was wearing off. Every time she breathed, the surgical incision pulled and burned.

The door pushed open. A nurse in blue scrubs walked in, checking the chart at the end of the bed. Her nametag read Patricia Kowalski.

"You're awake," Patricia said, offering a warm, professional smile. She moved to the side of the bed and checked Kelsi's IV line. "How is the pain on a scale of one to ten?"

"Seven," Kelsi rasped. Her throat felt like sandpaper.

Patricia pressed a button on the IV pump. "I'm upping your pain medication. You had an emergency appendectomy. You got here just in time."

Kelsi nodded slowly. She pressed her hand lightly over the thick bandage on her abdomen.

"Have you been able to reach your family?" Patricia asked softly. "You signed the surgical consent forms yourself before you went under. We usually recommend having family here when you wake up."

Kelsi stared at the blank white wall opposite her bed.

"I don't have family," Kelsi said. Her voice was flat.

Patricia's eyes softened with sympathy. She patted Kelsi's arm. "Get some rest. Press the call button if you need anything."

The nurse left. The silence rushed back into the room, heavy and suffocating.

Kelsi slowly turned her head toward the small bedside table. Her phone sat there.

She reached out, her arm trembling slightly from weakness, and grabbed it.

The screen lit up. She had thirty-two missed calls and dozens of text messages.

Almost all of them were from Gisele.

Where are you? !

The hospital called me! I'm in LA for a shoot, I'm booking a flight back right now!

Kelsi, please tell me you're okay!

Kelsi swallowed hard. Gisele was her best friend. She was always there.

She scrolled past Gisele's frantic messages. At the very bottom of the screen, there was one single text from Jeb. It was sent at 3:00 AM.

Heard you went to the hospital. It's just a minor surgery, don't be so dramatic. I'll have my assistant send flowers tomorrow.

Kelsi stared at the words.

She waited for the anger to hit her. She waited for the tears to blur her vision. She waited for the familiar, desperate urge to call him and beg for his attention. She replayed his cold words, searching for the familiar sting of heartbreak, but the spot where it should have been was just... numb. It was the chilling realization that she wasn't losing love, but merely shedding a long-held illusion.

Nothing came.

Her chest felt completely hollow. The physical pain from her surgery was sharp and real, but her heart felt like a flatline.

She read the text again. Don't be so dramatic.

A memory flashed in her mind. Last year, on the anniversary of her parents' death, Jeb had promised to go to the cemetery with her. Instead, he spent the entire day with Seraphina because it was her "first birthday without her husband."

Another memory surfaced. Six months ago, they had planned a two-week trip to Italy. Jeb canceled it three days before the flight because Seraphina was feeling "emotionally unstable" and needed him nearby.

Every single time she needed him, he chose Seraphina.

For years, Kelsi had made excuses for him. She told herself he was just a good man honoring his dead brother. She told herself she needed to be more understanding.

But last night, while she was writhing on the floor in agony, begging for a ride to the emergency room, he told her to call an Uber so he wouldn't miss a party.

The man she loved didn't exist. He was a phantom she had created in her own mind to avoid feeling lonely.

Patricia walked back into the room holding a thermometer. She placed it under Kelsi's tongue.

"No fever," Patricia noted. "The doctor says if your vitals stay stable, you can be discharged tomorrow morning. Since it was a laparoscopic procedure and you're young and healthy, you can recover more comfortably at home. But you'll need someone to come pick you up. You can't drive."

Kelsi nodded. She pulled the thermometer out. "Thank you."

Patricia smiled and left again.

Kelsi looked back at her phone.

She opened Gisele's chat first.

I'm okay. Surgery went well. Don't rush back, I'll be fine. I love you.

Then, she opened her chat with Jeb.

She stared at his name at the top of the screen. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. Her breathing was slow and even. The panic that usually accompanied any conflict with Jeb was completely gone.

She typed out the words with steady fingers.

Jeb, we're done. The engagement is off.

She didn't write a paragraph explaining her feelings. She didn't accuse him of anything. He didn't deserve her words anymore.

She hit send.

Without hesitating for a single second, she tapped his profile, scrolled to the bottom, and hit Block Caller. She opened her social media apps and blocked his accounts there, too.

She locked the phone and tossed it onto the bedside table.

She closed her eyes, feeling the steady throb of her surgical wound. For the first time in three years, she felt like she could finally breathe.

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