Darkness.
It wasn't peaceful it was suffocating.
Serena Vaughn drifted in it for what felt like centuries. No time. No light. Just the echo of betrayal, looping endlessly through the hollows of her broken soul.
Until something ripped her back.
A breath. Violent. Ragged. Screaming.
She woke up clawing at air, choking on silence. Pain exploded in her chest like a rebirth through fire. Her throat was raw, her body stitched and sore. Tubes in her veins, bruises blooming like black roses on her skin.
The ceiling was unfamiliar. So was the room.
A voice broke the quiet.
"You're lucky to be alive."
A woman in pale scrubs stood by the window, calm as death itself. Her accent was thick. Russian, maybe. Or Baltic. Her eyes were unreadable.
"They found you in the woods. Barely breathing. No ID. No fingerprints in the system. No one came looking."
Serena said nothing.
Because Serena Vaughn was already dead.
Six Months Later
The mirror didn't lie.
Not anymore.
Gone was the soft girl with forgiving eyes and fragile hope. Gone were the warm smiles and naïve dreams.
In her place stood someone else.
Sharper. Colder. Unrecognizable.
The surgeons had done their part—reconstructive work masked behind the narrative of "accident trauma." But the real change had nothing to do with scalpels.
The real change was in her eyes.
They no longer trembled. They pierced.
She trained like a soldier—morning to night. Learned languages. Built aliases. Studied corporate power structures like battle maps. She aligned herself with men who spoke in code and smiled with knives in their pockets.
Serena Vaughn had died weak.
AlessiaGrey was born hungry.
No past. No fear. No mercy.
One night, rain lashed the windows of her penthouse. Thunder rolled over the city like war drums. Alessia stood barefoot before a small table, where a crystal bowl held a single item dusty, tarnished, familiar.
Her engagement ring.
The same ring Ethan Hart had slipped onto her finger the night he promised forever. The same one stained with her blood.
She held it between two fingers, staring into the tiny diamond like it still whispered lies.
A candle flickered beside her. Without flinching, she pressed the ring into the flame.
The gold hissed. Blackened. Bent.
Then she dropped it into the bowl and watched it burn.
"You killed me once," she whispered, voice steady and low.
"Now it's my turn."
She didn't cry.
She didn't shake.
She smiled.
🔥 Final Line :
"Rebirth wasn't a miracle it was vengeance, carved into bone. And she was coming back to collect."