Reborn: Married to Your Greatest Enemy

RAYA

​"Dylan is going to lose his mind," Vivienne said, carefully adjusting the heavy lace train. "Absolutely lose it!"

​I smiled at my reflection in the three-way mirror. A flush rose to my cheeks as I looked at myself in the wedding dress. It was perfect. The silk hugged my waist exactly right, flowing out into a breathtaking, royal train. I could already picture Dylan standing at the end of the altar, looking at me with that intense, devoted stare he had given me for the last seven years.

"Do you think it’s too soon to get the dress? The wedding is still months away," I asked. I bit my lip nervously. "Do I seem too eager? Or too desperate?"

​"Nonsense, darling," Vivienne said, patting my shoulder. "We need to be prepared. It is going to be the wedding of the century. Everything needs to be perfect, and perfection needs time."

​I breathed out a sigh of relief. Dylan and I were that couple. The one people pointed at in crowded rooms. Loving him was as natural to me as breathing. I was completely his, and he was mine.

​My phone buzzed on the glass table. I ignored it.

​"I think we should take the waist in just a fraction of an inch," Vivienne mused, tilting her head. "Just enough to sharpen your silhouette."

​My phone buzzed again. Then again. It wouldn't stop.

​"One moment," I said, carefully stepping off the platform.

​I had five missed calls and three text messages from Sophie, my assistant at Sinclair Gems. She never called like this unless the shop was burning down.

​I opened the first text. It was a photo.

​My breath caught. It was a heavy, cream-colored card embossed with gold lettering.

​Dylan Carter and Keila Sinclair request the pleasure of your company at their wedding gala.

​The date printed at the bottom was exactly four months from now. The exact date of my wedding.

​My hands stopped working. The phone slipped through my fingers, hitting the hardwood floor with a sharp crack across the screen. I just stared at it. It was a typo. A horrific mistake by the printers. Keila was my sister…my maid of honor.

​The phone rang again on the floor. Sophie’s name flashed. I picked it up with shaking hands.

​"Raya, honey..." My chest tightened because Sophie was never soft. “Are you sitting down?"

​"Where did you get this photo, Sophie?" I whispered.

​"The formal invitations were delivered to the corporate office an hour ago," she paused, her voice cracking. "Raya... Dylan signed the distribution releases. He and Keila... they've been seeing each other for a year."

​The glamorous bridal boutique tilted around me. The white dress, the crystal chandeliers, the happy girl in the mirror all turned into a cruel joke.

​"Miss Raya?" Vivienne asked, her eyes wide with worry. "Should I call someone?"

​I hung up on Sophie. My heart hammered violently against my ribs as I dialed my sister.

​Keila picked up on the second ring, her voice warm and bubbly. "Hey, sis! What's up?"

​"What's up," I repeated, my voice hollow and dead. "What's up, Keila, is that I am standing in a bridal shop in my wedding dress, holding a photo of your wedding invitation to my fiancé. That is what is up."

​The line went completely silent.

​Then, Keila let out a small, annoyed sigh. "Oh. You weren't supposed to get that invitation until next week."

​"I wasn't supposed to—" I choked, a wave of nausea hitting me so hard I had to press my hand against my stomach. "Keila, what are you talking about? Tell me this is a joke."

​"Come to LS Restaurant tonight at eight o'clock," she said coldly, all the warmth completely vanishing from her voice. "We will explain everything."

"We?"

​She hung up.

​The rain started the moment I stepped out of the boutique. It was freezing and gray, matching the sudden numbness in my soul.

​By eight pm, I was walking through the doors of the exclusive restaurant. I spotted them immediately through the glass partition.

​Dylan looked effortlessly handsome, his blonde hair catching the candlelight. He didn't look guilty at all. He looked perfectly calm, sipping a glass of red wine. Sitting next to him was Keila, wearing a vibrant red dress and the exact shade of lipstick I helped her buy last month. I remembered how she linked her arm in mine and called me her favorite person.

​And across from them sat my mother, Margaret Sinclair. Her posture was perfect.

​I walked up to the table, my legs shaking. Dylan stood up smoothly, adjusting his tailored suit jacket. He looked me up and down with a cool, detached expression.

​"Raya. Sit down," he said. His voice was smooth, completely devoid of the warmth he had given me just yesterday.

​"Why are you looking at me like that, Dylan?" I asked, a tear finally escaping and running down my cheek. "Like you don't even know me? We were supposed to get married. I was just trying on my dress..."

​"Raya, let's not make a emotional scene in public," Dylan said, his tone chillingly calm as he sat back down. "It just happened. Keila and I suit each other's ambitions better. It’s a better match for the Carter Group. There’s no need to take it personally."

​Not to take it personally. My fiancé was leaving me for my sister, and he was treating it like a change in suppliers.

​"How could you?" I gasped, looking at Keila. "You are my sister!"

​"You're adopted, Raya. Let's not forget reality," Keila scoffed, twirling a diamond ring on her finger. My engagement ring. "You were always just a placeholder until I was ready to take over."

​I turned to my mother, waiting for her to stop this nightmare. "Mother... did you know about this?"

​Margaret didn't look at my tear-streaked face. Instead, she opened her designer handbag and pulled out a thick stack of legal documents, sliding them across the white tablecloth.

​"Raya, stop crying. It's pathetic," Margaret said, her voice sharp and clinical. "The Sinclair Group is facing a massive federal audit. There is a multi-million dollar deficit in the gemstone inventory, and your name is registered as the sole signing authority for Sinclair Gems."

​I stared at the documents. "What?"

​"If the auditors trace the missing funds, the family is ruined," Margaret continued without a shred of empathy. "You need to sign these papers immediately. You will transfer 100% of Sinclair Gems' equity to Keila, and you will sign this confession taking full responsibility for the financial discrepancies."

​"You want me to take the fall for your fraud?" I whispered, my voice cracking. "You want me to go to prison while they get married and run my company?"

​"Prison would be a short stay, Raya," Dylan interjected smoothly, leaning forward. He looked incredibly cold, his eyes devoid of any humanity. "If you cooperate, we will make sure you are taken care of when you get out.”

“This is the least you can do for all we have done for you” my mother chipped in coldly.

​"I am your daughter!" I screamed at Margaret, the betrayal ripping my chest open. "I built that boutique from nothing! Did you ever love me? Or was I just a shield for Keila?"

​Margaret adjusted her pearls, her expression utterly disgusted. "You are a Sinclair by name, Raya. And a Sinclair protects the bloodline. Keila and Dylan are the future of this house. Sign the papers."

​The words felt like they we're physically crushing my soul.

When my mom and dad took me out of that orphanage, they told me I was their distant blood relative. They told me they wanted me because we were family. But looking at Margaret now, the truth was blinding. Distant blood was never real blood to them. I was just a legal name they could use to clear their debt.

​I looked at the three of them. My sister wore my ring. My fiancé looked at me like an inconvenient bug. And the woman who raised me was sentencing me to prison.

​"No," I whispered. I stood up, my hands shaking violently as I grabbed my purse. "I won't sign it. I won't let you ruin me."

​Dylan didn't even try to stop me. He just took another slow sip of his wine, his eyes narrowing into a dangerous, dark glare. "You'll regret that, Raya."

​I ran out into the heavy rain, throwing myself into my car. I drove blindly, tears blinding my vision as the headlights of the city blurred together.

​My phone kept lighting up on the passenger seat as my mother kept on calling.

​I reached over with a trembling hand to flip the phone face down. As I gripped it, the screen lit up, showing a contact I had hidden months ago under a fake name to keep Dylan from getting jealous.

​Xavier Locke.

​The terrifying billionaire who had handed me his card at a gala, telling me to call him the moment I wanted out of the Sinclair shadow. I stared at his name.

​The light ahead of me turned green. I stepped on the gas.

​A blinding pair of high beams slammed into my vision from the left. A massive heavy-duty truck ran straight through the red light. There was no time to brake.

The impact was deafening. My car spun violently before slamming into a concrete pillar.

​I was still conscious, but I couldn't move my legs. Blood dripped down my face, and the freezing rain poured through the shattered windshield. My phone had thrown itself onto my lap, still glowing with Xavier Locke's contact open. With my last ounce of strength, I managed to hit call.

​It rang once.

​"Raya," Xavier's deep voice came through the speaker. I tried to speak, but only blood bubbled past my lips. "Raya? Talk to me. Where are you?" His voice turned sharp and urgent.

​Suddenly, the driver-side door was wrenched open.

​A man in a black raincoat stepped into the frame, completely calm. He put his phone on speaker and held it up.

​Margaret’s voice came through the line. "Is it done?"

​"Yes," the man replied. "She's pinned in the wreckage and dying."

​"Good. Take her fingerprint and put it on the document," Margaret ordered coldly. In the background, Dylan’s calm voice added, "Make sure the print is clean, or the equity transfer won't go through."

​The man laid the contract papers on my bleeding dashboard. He pressed my thumb into a black inkpad, then slammed it onto the signature line of the confession and the asset transfer.

​Margaret let out a sigh over the phone. "It shouldn't have come to this, Raya. If you had just signed the document at dinner, you wouldn't have died. But you were always too stubborn."

​"We're clear," the man said, hanging up the phone. He snatched the signed documents and vanished into the dark rain, leaving me to die.

​My vision was failing. Xavier's voice was still roaring my name through my phone, desperate and furious.

​If I get another chance... I thought, the last tear mixing with the blood on my cheek as my heart gave its final, painful beat. If I ever open my eyes again... I will give my soul to the devil himself just to watch them burn.