Reborn: Second Chance with the Scheming Tycoon

A sharp, biting pain nearly made Amelia pass out.

Sabrina Johnson gripped a fruit knife, slashing repeatedly at her face until it was a bloody, unrecognizable mess.

She’d been lured there by her half-sister, only to walk in on her fiancé, Ethan Collins, in bed with the same girl.

Ethan didn’t even flinch—instead, he shot her a look full of disdain. “Don’t act so innocent.”

“If it weren’t for you, Ethan and I would’ve been married long ago,” Sabrina sneered, her eyes glinting with malice. “You should’ve stayed in the countryside. Dreaming of taking the family fortune from me? Keep dreaming, you naive fool.”

Amelia’s mouth was taped shut; all that escaped were choked, muffled whimpers. Her tears mixed with the blood streaking down her face.

“Want to speak? Too bad,” Sabrina chuckled darkly, tapping the blade against Amelia’s cheek. “Save your words—for the grave.”

“Isn’t it ironic? You survived when my mother abandoned you in the wild as a child. Someone picked you up and raised you—what a lucky break.” Sabrina’s laugh turned twisted. “But not this time. You won’t walk away again.”

Without another word, she shoved Amelia off the balcony.

Amelia plunged from the 27th floor like a broken doll, bones shattering on impact, blood pooling beneath her.

Her eyes stayed wide open—stained crimson, blazing with despair and fury.

She died with too much left undone. If given a second chance, she swore she’d make Sabrina pay—ten times over.

Her head throbbed as if struck by a sledgehammer. Amelia slowly opened her eyes, blinking until two blurry figures came into focus.

The shorter man ogled her lying on the bed, practically drooling. He patted his pockets and cursed, “Damn it, I left my phone behind. Bro, lend me yours—gotta take some spicy shots of this one first.”

“Mine’s in the car,” the taller one grunted, checking his coat before swearing under his breath. “I’ll grab it. Hands off till I’m back—we had a deal.”

As her vision cleared, Amelia’s stomach sank. She remembered these two lowlifes all too well.

Three months ago, on her birthday, Sabrina had spiked her drink.

They’d been hired by Sabrina to ruin Amelia’s reputation.

She’d fought back fiercely. Scared she’d retaliate, they’d only managed to take a few compromising photos before fleeing.

But those photos were explicit enough to suggest the worst—and they soon found their way to Ethan Collins.

The scene felt hauntingly familiar.

The TV hummed in the background, the news displaying the date: Amelia Johnson’s birthday.

Fate had given her a second chance. She was back!

A surge of exhilaration coursed through her.

This time, she wouldn’t be a victim. She’d turn the tables—and make Sabrina and her allies regret everything.

The taller man had stepped out; the shorter one was in the bathroom. It was now or never.

Amelia scrambled off the bed and stumbled toward the door.

She knew running wildly was useless—she needed to hide. Spotting a nearby room ajar, she slipped inside—colliding straight into a solid chest.

She looked up, desperation in her eyes. “They’re chasing me… please, help me…”

Damien Taylor frowned, ready to shove the intruder out—but the moment he saw her face, he hesitated. Something made him pause.

He closed the door quietly. “You’re safe here.”

“Thank you…” Amelia felt dizzy, her legs buckling beneath her.

Damien caught her neatly around the waist, pulling her flush against his chest.

Her soft, sweet scent hit him unexpectedly, making him freeze for a second.

Acting on impulse, Damien lifted her and laid her on the bed. As he began to pull back, Amelia wrapped her arms around his neck.

Surprisingly… he felt no disgust. Instead, an unfamiliar heat stirred within him.

“I’m burning up… please…” she murmured, her face flushed.

Damien’s frown deepened. She’d been drugged, no doubt.

Without another thought, he carried her into the bathroom and placed her in the tub, turning the shower to cold.

Water cascaded over her, yet Amelia still squirmed as if consumed by fire.

Eyes glazed, she reached out blindly. “It hurts…”

Her hand found Damien’s arm, and she clung to him instinctively.

He leaned down to adjust her, but his foot slipped—sending them both tumbling into the tub.

He braced his arms on either side of her, careful not to crush her.

Amelia wrapped herself around him again, nuzzling into his chest. “That’s better…”

Damien caught her restless hand, his voice husky. “Don’t. You’re crossing a line.”