Chapter 123: Reborn

The water washed over his chin, his nose, his forehead, until the roar of the splashing faucet became a muffled, distant hum.

The cold element enveloped him, pulling him into a quiet, weightless world.

He opened his mouth slightly, letting the water creep into his lips, surrendering to the dark. He didn’t fight it. He just wanted the pain to stop.

Then, the darkness exploded.

It wasn’t a gradual transition. It was a brutal, violent tear in his mind, like a blinding light tearing through a dark room.

’Crack.’

The sound of a gunshot echoed inside his skull, so loud it rattled his teeth.

A flash of red spilled across the floors.

’A woman’s face, bruised and pale, her dark eyes wide with terror, staring up at him from the ground.’

Kian’s mind reeled, but the images kept coming, faster and faster, hitting him like physical blows.

’A heavy wooden cane clattering down a grand staircase.’

’A doctor in a white coat, holding a clip board, looking at him with pity and distaste.’

"She was roughly six weeks along, Mr. Carter. The trauma from the attack and the gunshot... the fetus didn’t survive."

’Another flash.’

’A cemetery at night. Rain pouring down in sheets, drowning the headstones. A man kneeling in the mud, digging at the wet earth with bare, bleeding fingernails, sobbing uncontrollably into the dark.’

"I didn’t know!" the man in the rain screamed, his voice raw, broken, entirely unhinged. "I didn’t know! Isabella, please!"

Underneath the water, Kian’s eyes snapped open.

The water stung his eyes, but he couldn’t close them. His lungs burned for air, a primal reflex urging him to surface, but his mind was paralyzed by the horror unfolding behind his eyes.

These weren’t dreams. These weren’t hallucinations brought on by alcohol or exhaustion.

They were memories.

The floodgates broke completely, and the weight of an entire lifetime crashed over him.

He remembered holding the gun. He remembered the cold circle of the barrel pressed against Isabella’s temple.

He remembered the way she had begged him, not for her own life, but for the child inside her.

He remembered laughing, believing she was lying, believing she was just a blind, helpless fool trying to manipulate him.

He remembered pulling the trigger.

He remembered the silence that followed. The quiet, horrific silence that had settled over the mansion after the smoke cleared.

He remembered how, in the months that followed, the victory he and Alice had planned turned to ash in his mouth.

He remembered how he couldn’t stand the sight of Alice, how her touch made his skin crawl, how her laugh reminded him of the blood on the stairs.

He remembered the descent. The nights spent locked in Isabella’s closet, clutching her clothes, begging the darkness to bring her back.

The drugs he had injected into his veins just to see her ghost standing in the corner of his bedroom.

The memory of her standing at the edge of the high-rise balcony, stretching out a hand toward him with a gentle smile, offering him forgiveness if he just took one step forward.

He remembered following the ghost of her, reaching out to take her hand.

He remembered the long, wind-whipped fall through the night air.

He remembered the void.

’I was reborn.’

The realization shattered the last remnants of his sanity, putting it back together into something jagged and sharp.

Above him, through the distorted, wavering surface of the bathwater, a pale glow began to manifest.

It wasn’t a light from the room. It was a sharp, rectangular shape, floating in the space between air and water, its translucent edges shimmering with faint text.

’’[Soul recognition confirmed.]’’

’’[Memory seal: Broken.]’’

’’[Previous existence acknowledged.]’’

Kian stared up at the words through the water, his chest heaving silently, bubbles escaping his lips and floating to the surface.

’’[Previous contract detected.]’’

’’[Payment: Memory.]’’

’’[Payment status: Reversed.]’’

’’[Debt reinstated.]’’

A strange, terrible quiet settled over his mind.

The frantic burning in his lungs seemed to fade into the background. He understood now.

He understood why he had felt so frantic, so wildly out of control since the moment Isabella had started acting cold and distant and how her eyes even though she couldn’t see him, showed her fear and repulsion.

He hadn’t just come back. He had paid for a second chance with his own mind, trading his past memories just to be placed back in her orbit. And now, the trade was undone.

The debt was back on the table.

’’[Your borrowed existence continues.]’’

’’[Your debt remains.]’’

The glowing screen wavered, shifting its text one final time before fading into the murky light of the room.

’’[Choose.]’’

’’[Continue.]’’

’’[Give up.]’’

Kian didn’t hesitate. He didn’t care about the debt. He didn’t care about the price Fate would eventually demand from him.

The only thing that mattered, the only truth that remained in his entire universe, was the woman who had slipped through his fingers a second time.

’Continue.’

Kian erupted from the water.

He dragged himself over the edge of the porcelain tub, gasping violently, his lungs expanding as he drew in massive gulps of air.

Water poured from his dark hair, his clothes heavy and dripping onto the tiled floor. He collapsed onto his hands and knees, coughing up water, his heart hammering against his ribs like a sledgehammer.

He stayed like that for a long time, shivering on the cold floor, the water pooling around him in a dark, jagged stain.

Then, slowly, the coughing stopped.

His breathing evened out. The desperate, panicked wheezing turned into slow, deliberate inhalations.

A small, quiet sound escaped his throat.

It started as a breathy exhale, then grew into a low chuckle. He pulled himself up until he was sitting against the wall, wiping the water from his eyes with the back of his hand, a tiny, crooked smile forming on his lips.

"That’s why," he whispered to the empty room. His voice was low, smooth, and devoid of the crackling panic that had defined it for weeks. "That’s why I couldn’t let you go."

He laughed again, a dark, quiet sound that didn’t reach his eyes.

It all made sense now. The dreams that had haunted him. The sudden, overwhelming urge to keep her locked away where no one else could see her.

The terrifying panic whenever she kept her distance from him. His body had remembered what his mind had forgotten: he had already destroyed her once, and the universe had punished him by making him watch her walk away in this life.

He stood up.

His clothes were heavy, dripping wet, but he moved with a calm, unhurried grace. He walked over to the large mirror above the sink and looked at his reflection.

The man staring back at him was no longer the frantic, begging husband who had chased a plane down the tarmac.

The redness in his eyes was gone, replaced by a cold, still clarity. The desperation had burned away, leaving behind a hard, unyielding core.

He reached up, smoothing his wet hair back from his forehead.

In his past life, he had been foolish.

He had let Alice manipulate him. He had let his own greed obscure what was actually valuable.

He had thought that killing Isabella would give him power, only to realize too late that she was the only thing holding his world together.

He wasn’t going to make those mistakes again.

He wasn’t going to chase her across the world like a dog begging for scraps. He wasn’t going to scream at her, or plead with her, or make sloppy, desperate moves that only drove her further into Aaron Kazarov’s arms.

Aaron.

Kian’s smile widened slightly as he stared at his own reflection.

In this new timeline, Aaron was the anomaly. Aaron was the thing coming between him and his wife, the man who had stepped into the void Kian had created and offered Isabella a sanctuary.

Aaron thought he was her savior. Aaron thought he could build a wall of money and men around her and keep her safe from the past.

’I’ll just need to get rid of him,’ Kian thought softly. ’then she’ll have nowhere to run to.’

Kian peeled off his soaked coat and dropped it onto the floor. He unbuttoned his wet shirt, letting it fall away, his eyes never leaving the mirror.

He had died once. He had walked through hell, traded his soul, and returned to the dirt just to have another chance at touching her skin.

He wasn’t afraid of Aaron Kazarov. He wasn’t afraid of the law, or the system, or whatever price Fate intended to collect from him at the end of this road.

Isabella was his. She had always been his. She had died with his name on her lips in another life, and no matter how far she flew, no matter whose shadow she hid behind, he would drag her back.

He turned off the faucet, cutting off the sound of running water.

The bathroom returned to complete silence. Kian grabbed a dry towel from the rack, drying his hands with slow, methodical movements.

"This time, Isabella," he murmured to the quiet room, his voice calm, steady, and utterly devoid of mercy. "I’m not going to make the same mistake."