All Chapters of Reborn: Make Them Pay: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

By Monday morning, everything feels different.Not in a way anyone else would notice. The penthouse looks the same; pristine, polished, untouched. Sunlight spills through the windows just as it always has, catching on marble and glass like nothing has ever been wrong here.But I feel it.The shift.Subtle. Powerful. Irreversible.⸻I wake without panic.No sharp inhale.No racing heart.Just stillness.For a moment, I lie there staring at the ceiling, letting the quiet settle into my bones. The sheets beneath my fingers are clean now, cool and smooth, absent of any trace of what happened two nights ago.No blood.No weakness.No version of me that dies here.⸻My phone vibrates softly against the bedside table.I don’t need to check to know who it is.Still, I do.Azriel:They’re on their way back.⸻Right on time.⸻A slow breath leaves me as I sit up, pushing the covers aside. There’s no rush in my movements, no urgency.Everything that needed to be done… is already done.⸻By the t

Another month passes, and this time the change is impossible to ignore.It begins with the crying.At first, it blends into the background; newborns cry, that’s what everyone says. It’s normal. Expected. Temporary. But this isn’t that. This is constant, sharp, and grating in a way that makes something in Charlotte’s chest tighten every time it echoes down the hall.Then comes the coughing.Dry. Persistent. Wrong.She notices it long before anyone else does. Of course she does.One morning, she pauses just outside the guest room, her hand hovering near the door. The baby’s cry cuts through the silence again, thinner than before, strained. Inside, Anya lets out a shaky breath.“Oh my god… just stop crying,” she mutters, voice edged with exhaustion. “I just fed you…”The crying only worsens.Charlotte steps back slowly, her expression unreadable.She already knows.This isn’t neglect alon

A month changes things.Not all at once. Not in ways that can be easily named. But in the quiet moments; in the silence that lingers too long, in the way people stop looking at each other.The penthouse no longer feels lived in.It feels… suspended.⸻Charlotte notices it immediately.Anya sits at the dining table, shoulders slightly hunched, fingers wrapped around a mug that has long gone cold. Her hair is tied back loosely, strands falling out without care. There’s something dulled about her now, something worn thin.Vance stands near the window, phone in hand, jaw tight. His posture is rigid, controlled in a way that feels forced. His icy blue eyes flick across the screen, unfocused, like his thoughts are somewhere else entirely.They don’t speak.Not to each other.Not to her.⸻Charlotte adjusts the cuff of her blazer, smoothing it with quiet precision.“Try not

The meeting ends without ceremony.Charlotte closes her folder and stands before the silence fully settles. There is nothing left to say, nothing left to negotiate. She steps around the table, heels quiet against the polished floor, and stops just short of him.For a brief moment, neither of them speaks.Then she extends her hand. “Pleasure working with you.”Her tone is smooth, professional, final.Azriel looks at her hand, then back at her face, like he’s still trying to place her, still trying to decide which version of her he’s dealing with. He takes her hand. His grip is firm, warm, steady.“Likewise,” he says, but his eyes don’t leave hers.Charlotte doesn’t hold the moment. She releases him first, turns, and walks out without hesitation, without a second glance.The doors close behind her with a soft click. Only then does she exhale.Something about that meeting lingers. Not the deal. Not the ter

Azriel doesn’t answer immediately.He just looks at her.Really looks at her.Because the question—simple, direct—lands harder than anything she’s said so far.Were you killed too?He opens his mouth.Then closes it.For the first time since this all began, something unfamiliar settles in his chest.Uncertainty.His gaze drifts slightly—not away from her, but inward. Replaying. Searching.Fragments surface.A corridor.Low voices.Controlled.A name spoken like it mattered.Then—impact.Sharp. Final. Nothing after.He exhales slowly.“I…” he starts, then stops.Charlotte watches him closely, her expression unreadable but sharp.Azriel straightens slightly, jaw tightening.“I don’t know.”The words come out slower than he expects.Charlotte frowns. “You don’t know?”