Reborn With Revenge

(Prologue) My name is Alina Mitchell. And I died thinking love was supposed to save me. It happened on a Tuesday. I had just come back early from a business trip. The flight was rough, and I was tired, but I wanted to surprise my husband. I thought maybe we could finally talk—really talk—about how distant he'd been lately. I didn't expect to find him in bed with her. Her name is Chelsea White. She was supposed to be my best friend. My maid of honor. The woman who cried with me at my wedding and held my hand through every heartbreak. And there she was, on top of him, laughing like it was all some kind of joke. They didn’t hear me come in. I stood in the hallway, frozen, my suitcase still in my hand. The bedroom door was cracked open just enough for me to see everything. His hands were on her hips. Her head was thrown back. They looked happy. Happier than I’d seen Jason in months. Jason—my husband. The man I gave everything to. I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I backed away and went downstairs. My heart was pounding, but I felt cold all over. I couldn’t think. I sat in the kitchen for an hour, just… staring at the wall. When I heard footsteps, I stood up. Jason came down in a robe like nothing had happened. I asked him if he loved her. He didn’t deny it. He said, “She gives me peace. You give me stress.” That sentence broke something in me. I wasn’t angry. Not yet. I just nodded, walked past him, and went to shower. I cried there. Quietly. Letting the water hide the sound. I should have left that night. But I didn't. I wanted to talk to Chelsea. I wanted answers. Closure, maybe. The next day, I called her and asked to meet. She agreed. We met at the little café on 3rd Street—the one we used to go to every Friday. She smiled at me like nothing was wrong. Like she hadn’t just torn my world apart. “I’m sorry you found out that way,” she said, sipping her coffee. “But you two were never a real match, Alina. You deserve someone else.” I remember looking at her and realizing I’d never really known her. She was calm. Cold. She wasn’t sorry. She was proud. I told her I was filing for divorce. I told her she could have him. Three days later, Jason asked me to go with him to the cabin. Said we needed to talk. Said he wanted to explain everything. I agreed. I still don’t know why I went. Maybe part of me hoped he’d apologize. Maybe I wanted to see if there was anything left to save. Or maybe I just wanted him to look me in the eye and tell me why he did it. We drove up Friday afternoon. It was quiet, just like always. I made tea while he unpacked. We sat outside for a while, barely speaking. Then, just as the sun went down, he said he wanted to show me something in the basement. The basement. I followed him, not thinking. Not suspecting. It was dark when I stepped inside. He said the light was out. Told me to wait at the bottom of the stairs. Then I heard the door slam shut behind me. I turned. "Jason?" No answer. Then I heard Chelsea's voice. "You're so easy, Alina. So damn predictable." I ran back up the stairs, but the door was locked. I banged on it, screamed, cried. Nothing. After a while, the door opened. Jason stood there. He looked down at me like I was already dead. “We’re done, Alina,” he said. “You were never supposed to come back from that trip. But now we have to do this the hard way.” Chelsea appeared beside him, holding something behind her back. It was a tire iron. I stepped back. “Don’t do this,” I whispered. “You don’t have to do this.” She smiled. “Oh, but we do. See, you made things messy. If you’d just died in that car crash like we planned, this would’ve been so much easier.” I froze. “What?” Jason sighed. “The brakes. You were supposed to drive back alone. But you flew. You ruined everything.” I backed up until I hit the wall. Chelsea raised the iron. The first blow hit my shoulder. I screamed. Jason kicked me in the ribs. I collapsed. The second hit cracked my jaw. Blood filled my mouth. I begged. I pleaded. I told him I loved him. He didn’t even flinch. The third blow knocked me out. When I came to, I was on the floor. Everything hurt. My face, my chest, my legs. Blood pooled under my head. I couldn’t move. Jason crouched beside me. “It’s over, Alina.” Chelsea leaned in close. “You were always too perfect. Too kind. Too trusting. It was annoying.” Then she stabbed me. Right in the stomach. Deep. Slow. The pain was unreal. I couldn’t scream anymore. I just lay there, shaking. Jason watched it all. He didn’t stop her. He kissed my forehead. “I hope you find peace,” he said like he hadn’t just killed me. And then everything went black. I don’t know how long I was gone. Time felt strange. There was no light, no sound, no pain. Just emptiness. I thought that was it. That I was gone for good. But then I heard a voice. Soft. Cold. “Do you want another chance?” I couldn’t speak. But I felt something inside me scream, Yes. The voice came again. “Then wake up, Alina. And do it right this time.” When I opened my eyes, I was in my old bedroom. Before the wedding. Before Jason. Before all of it. My hands were smooth. My body was whole. There was no blood. No bruises. No pain. It was the morning of my engagement party. I was alive. I sat up, shaking, heart racing. It was real. I remembered everything—every word, every lie, every blow. Jason was downstairs, waiting to propose. Chelsea was probably smiling in the mirror, pretending to be my friend. But not this time. This time, I wasn’t playing the fool. This time, I wouldn’t wait for them to break me. This time, I was going to burn it all down.