Reborn Six Years Back: CEO Falls For Me

Celestia's POV

I'm dying on a rain-slicked highway .

My car's wrapped around concrete. Metal screaming. Steering wheel crushing ribs. Each breath a knife through my lungs. Blood drips from my forehead, warm and sticky.

I can't move and no one can help me.

I am Celestia. Twenty-eight years old.

And my biggest mistake was being adopted by Maxwell Whitmore when I was three.

I was thirteen when Maxwell, my foster father, found his real daughter, Isabelle.

I'd smiled and welcomed this sister.

God, I was so stupid.

Isabelle hated me.

In her mind, I'd stolen her place. She was here to take back everything and get revenge on me.

Then everything was changed.

The first frame-up came within a month.

Maxwell's antique vase shattered in his study. I'd been doing homework in my room when I heard the crash, heard Isabelle's scream.

I ran downstairs. She was on the floor, surrounded by porcelain shards, tears streaming down her perfect face.

"Dad!" Her voice broke beautifully. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to. Celestia pushed me when I walked past and I tried to catch it but..."

"I didn't!" The words burst out of me. "I wasn't even in the room!"

Maxwell's face went dark and he slapped me so fast.

My head snapped sideways, copper flooding my mouth. The force knocked me to my knees.

"Liar." His voice was cold, disgusted. "Ungrateful little liar. I raised you for ten years and this is how you repay me?"

"Please, I didn't..."

"Kneel there. All night. Don't you dare move."

I'd knelt on cold tile for eight hours. No food. No water. Just the ache in my knees and the taste of blood.

At midnight, Isabelle walked past me slowly, then paused. Leaned down. Her breath warm against my ear.

"This is just the beginning, sister. You took my place for ten years. I'm going to make you pay for every single day."

Her voice was soft. Gentle, even. But every word was a blade.

The basement came next.

Isabelle claimed I'd poisoned her food. She'd eaten breakfast I'd made, then collapsed an hour later at school.

Ambulance. Hospital. Doctors finding traces of rat poison in her system.

Maxwell had dragged me down to the basement by my hair. Thrown me inside. Locked the door.

Three days. No food. No water. No light.

Just rats skittering in the corners.

After that, I'd finally cornered her.

"Why?" My voice shook. "I never hurt you. Why do you hate me?"

She'd smiled.

"Sister, don't you understand? Your existence itself is harm to me."

"When I was born, Mom died. Traffickers stole me. I spent ten years in orphanages, in terrible places."

"And you? You slept in my room. Wore my clothes. Ate my food. Called my father 'Dad.'"

She stepped closer.

"You took my place for ten years. Enjoyed ten years of life that should've been mine. Tell me, shouldn't you pay for that?"

"I'm going to show you what living hell means. I'll make you regret ever 'stealing' my life."

That moment, I finally understood. In Isabelle's eyes, I was a thief. No matter what I did, how innocent I was, she'd never let me go.

After that , Maxwell had called me into his office. Smiled. Told me I was going to boarding school in Switzerland.

But the plane landed at Blackwood Atoll instead.

A lawless zone. Where people sent children they wanted to disappear.

One year in hell. Hauling cargo in the sun until my back bled through my shirt.

Men with hands that grabbed, eyes that lingered.

One tried. Followed me into the storage room. Grabbed my hair. Pushed me against the wall.

They'd hung me up by my wrists for that. Whipped me. Left me in a metal box for a month where I couldn't stand, couldn't lie down, could only crouch in my own filth.

Maxwell bought me back when I was sixteen. Not out of love. Out of guilt, maybe.

I came home to a family that looked at me like I was contaminated.

At twenty, I met Damien Sterling.

He was handsome. From a good family. Studying law at Boston University. He "accidentally" bumped into me at the coffee shop the next day.

"I'm Damien. Can I buy you a coffee? As an apology for nearly knocking you over?"

I fell in love with him.

At twenty-four on Valentine's Day, he'd knelt by the river. Ring box open. "Celestia, marry me. I'll spend my life loving you."

I'd cried. Actually cried from happiness. Said yes.

He changed a lot after the engagement.

I'd thought it was wedding stress. Tried harder to be good enough.

"Babe, we should consolidate our finances. I'll manage everything. Trust fund, investments, all of it."

I'd hesitated. The money I'd built from nothing.

"It's just... I worked hard for that money."

He'd smiled. Kissed my forehead. "I know. And I'll protect it. Protect us. Don't you trust me?"

I believed him.

Twenty-seven years old. I'd come home early from a late class. Exhausted. Looking forward to collapsing into bed.

The apartment was dark. Quiet.

I'd pushed open the bedroom door.

Damien. Isabelle. In my bed.

Then Isabelle's eyes had met mine over Damien's shoulder.

She'd smiled.

"Oh, sister. You're home early."

My backpack hit the floor. The sound finally made Damien turn.

No shame. No guilt. Just mild annoyance.

"Celestia." He'd said my name like it tasted bad. "We should talk."

My legs gave out. I hit the floor, knees slamming into hardwood.

"How long?" The words barely made it past my lips.

Isabelle sat up slowly. Pulled the sheet around herself. Her hair mussed.

"Since the beginning, obviously." She laughed. "Did you really think this was real?"

She'd stood. Walked to my closet. Pulled out one of my dresses and slipped it on.

"I told him to seduce you three years ago. Right before he proposed, actually." She checked her reflection in my mirror.

"See, I knew you had money hidden somewhere. So I told Damien to get close. Make you fall in love to tell him your secrets."

She'd turned to face me. Crouched down.

"And you did. You told him everything. Your darknet accounts."

"No." The word came out broken. "I never told him the passwords."

"You did, actually." Damien had pulled on his pants. Checked his phone. "Last month. You had too much champagne. Started crying about how scared you were of losing me."

The memory hit like a fist.

"The money's already gone," he'd continued, buttoning his shirt.

My stomach twisted. Bile rose in my throat.

"We're engaged," I'd whispered. "You said you loved me."

"I lied." He'd shrugged. Actually shrugged. "And unlike you, she's actually worth something. Beauty. Breeding. The Whitmore name. Everything you're not."

Isabelle had stood. Walked past me. Paused at the door.

"You're so pathetic, sister. So desperate to be loved that you'd believe anything. Did you really think someone like Damien would want you?"

Her voice dropped.

"You're used goods. Everyone knows what happened at Blackwood Atoll. You think Damien could actually love someone so damaged?"

"You know the best part?" She'd smiled. "I didn't even have to try hard. You were so starved for affection that you made it easy."

I'd gone to Maxwell that same night. Stumbled into his study. Face swollen from crying.

"Isabelle and Damien betrayed me. They stole my money. All of it."

Maxwell's face had gone cold. "Celestia. Stop."

"I have proof."

"Forged, probably." He'd stood. "I'm disappointed in you. After everything I've done for you, this is how you repay me? Making up lies about my daughter?"

My daughter.

She was his only daughter in his eyes.

"She's lying! She's always lying! Why won't you ever believe me?!"

"Get out," Maxwell had said. "Don't come back until you're ready to apologize to your sister."

Two days later, my brakes failed.

They wanted me dead in the traffic accident.

So I could never expose them, never reclaim what was mine.

Fury floods through me, hotter than the pain tearing through my ribs.

I want to live. I want to make them pay. I want them to feel even a fraction of what they put me through.

But my body won't move.

No. This can't be the end.

I won't accept this.

But my vision is already fading.

In the end, I died, and everything went black before my eyes.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The alarm screams. I jolt awake, gasping.

I'm in a bed and alive.

I stumble to the mirror and freeze.

The face staring back is younger. Smoother. What happened?

I grab my phone and check the time.

December 20, 2020. It was six years ago.

I'm actually back to the age of twenty-two.