Chapter 1 Rebirth

"Serena Seymour, once you're dead, your entire life will belong to me!"

Tina Wells curled her lips into a cold sneer as she drove the syringe's needle into Serena's skin. Agony burst through Serena's veins, her blue veins bulging beneath her flesh, and a crushing, suffocating haze swallowed her consciousness whole.

Serena stretched out a limp, powerless hand—then her chest stilled forever.

"Serena, how could you be so cruel?"

A searing, splitting pain erupted at Serena's temples and spread outward, a brutal yank wrenching her hair backward.

She blinked her eyes open to see Second Brother Brian Seymour standing atop the marble steps, while Fourth Brother Derek Seymour wrapped an arm around Tina's waist.

The familiar scene sent shock rippling through Serena's bones—this was Tina's eighteenth birthday party, five years prior.

But hadn't she died in that psychiatric ward, tortured and injected with lethal drugs by Tina?

Had she… rebirthed?

Sent back to the very day of Tina's eighteenth birthday gala?

In her past life, this was the night Tina had set her up, framing Serena so thoroughly every guest believed she'd shoved Tina off the staircase.

After that, her six brothers' hearts had belonged entirely to the interloper.

Blinded by Tina's lies, they'd publicly named her the Seymour family's adopted daughter that night, showering her with endless, indulgent favoritism.

The scene unfolded exactly as Serena remembered; they were already surrounding her, screaming accusations that she'd pushed Tina, forcing her to confess her so-called crime.

Serena recalled vividly that even when she'd caved and apologized in her first life, it had only chained her tighter to their moral manipulation—each surrender leading to fresh torment.

It had started with Tina stealing Serena's original figure skating program choreography, Brian forcing her to drop her competitive skating spot to clear the way for Tina.

Then Tina faked a life-threatening illness, and Serena's boyfriend Logan Muller had teamed up with Third Brother Chris Seymour to harvest her spinal fluid, permanently destroying her Olympic skating dreams.

Later, under the pretense of fragile health, Tina had seized Serena's bedroom, while Eldest Brother banished Serena to a windowless, mold-ridden basement where sunlight never touched.

When she'd finally gathered irrefutable proof of Tina's schemes and laid it before her six brothers, not a single one had believed her. They'd called the evidence forged, labeled her a vicious, scheming monster.

Eldest Brother Albert Seymour had issued an ultimatum to sever all family ties, personally signing the papers that locked her away in the psychiatric hospital.

For two long years, Tina had tormented her there with experimental drugs developed by Chris—until she'd drawn her last breath in agony.

The horrors of her past burned fresh behind her eyes as she stared at her six brothers clustered protectively around Tina. An invisible vice clamped tight around her throat and heart, stealing her breath.

Their gazes were fixed solely on Tina; not a single flicker of concern remained for their own blood sister.

Cold marble bit into her palms where she lay on the floor, sharpening every raw sensation.

Her vision swam, and fleeting memories surfaced unbidden.

Their parents had died young, leaving the seven Seymour siblings to rely only on one another.

Once, she'd been their cherished baby sister—the girl they'd sworn to protect with their lives. Yet after more than a decade of shared days and nights, their bond had crumbled for the sake of a stranger.

"Serena, do you have any shred of conscience left? If Tina's parents hadn't taken us in all those years ago, you would've perished long before now." Brian's scathing rebuke echoed loud in her ears.

He advanced a sharp, menacing step closer.

"All the years we spent raising you, every penny poured into your schooling—did all of it go straight to waste?"

"Your disgraceful behavior shames every last one of us. It drags the entire Seymour family name through the mud!"

A bitter, hollow laugh bubbled up in Serena's chest.

She was the one disgracing the family?

What about them?

Blindly defending and coddling Tina at every turn—were they not the foolish, delusional ones?

"Serena, are you deaf? I'm speaking to you—can you not hear a word I say?" When Serena offered no reply, Brian's fury flared hotter.

He strode forward in long, angry strides, seized Serena roughly by the arm, and hauled her unsteadily to her feet. "You dared to hurl that girl down the stairs. Do you realize this is premeditated assault?"

"Brian, don't be too hard on Serena. I suppose I said something unkind earlier that upset her. I don't think she meant to push me quite so hard…"

Tina glided over at that moment, her tone soft and forgiving.

Her feigned kindness only cemented the lie that Serena had violently shoved her.

Chris rushed to Tina's side instantly, steadying her with gentle hands. "Tina, you fell down the stairs—we don't know what injuries you've sustained. You shouldn't be wandering around like this."

Fourth Brother Derek Seymour, Fifth Brother Edward Seymour, and Sixth Brother Fred Seymour all hurried over to crowd around Tina as well.

Serena watched every flicker of worried tenderness in their eyes with brutal clarity.

Tina didn't bear a single scratch or cut on her body—yet a dark pool of blood stained the marble floor right where Serena lay.

Of course.

Their judgment was clouded by every lie Tina wove; how could they possibly see the truth?

Even if they bothered to glance, they'd twist it all to say she'd brought this suffering on herself.

"Tina, we all know how kind-hearted you are, trying to make excuses for Serena. But a wrong is still a wrong." Albert's deep, unyielding voice cut sharply through the noise.

The next instant, Albert closed the distance between them, towering over Serena. His stare was cold, domineering, a silent weight pressing down on her shoulders. "Everyone must answer for the harm they've caused. You owe Tina an apology."

Serena understood his unspoken demand perfectly: he expected her to beg Tina's forgiveness in front of every single party guest.

Once she knelt to apologize publicly, every attendee would witness the brothers' unwavering loyalty to Tina. A clear warning to anyone watching—crossing Tina meant crossing all six Seymour men.

If they could cast aside their own flesh and blood without mercy, outsiders would fare far worse.

"Fine. It's my fault. Tina, I'm sorry."

Serena's voice was flat, devoid of emotion. She braced a hand against the wall, pushed herself shakily upright, and turned to slip away.

Her head throbbed from the fall; the gash was small, yet dizziness swirled behind her eyes.

But she knew exactly what would happen if she refused to apologize. Having lived through the agony once, reborn into this moment, she understood precisely what she needed to do to survive.

"Serena, an apology requires proper respect." Albert shot out a hand, catching her arm before she could stumble away.

Serena said nothing. Their gazes locked.

Albert's breath hitched as he spotted the thin trail of blood winding down her temple, the fresh gash split open on her scalp, and her wide, misty eyes brimming with unshed tears.