Rebirth: Love me Again

[DAMIEN!]

After her little attempted murder moment, Stacey had been admitted to a mental institution to get the help she clearly needed.

But the Frizkiels? Yeah, they don't exactly take assassination attempts lightly—especially when it's aimed at one of their own. And even more so when that "one" is Damien, the older heir to their slightly terrifying, definitely powerful family legacy.

So, one stormy night—because of course it had to be stormy—Stacey mysteriously vanished from the mental hospital. Poof. Gone. Not a note, not a footprint, not even a hair left behind. It was like she'd been swept away by karma with a silencer and an attitude.

The doctors said she was there one moment and gone the next, as if the walls had sprouted legs and walked her out. Some say she escaped. Others whisper that the Frizkiels sent a message . . . the kind that doesn't come in envelopes.

No one really knew what happened to her. But if you asked around long enough, someone would probably say, "Let's just say she's . . . somewhere we don't want to be."

Damien, lying on his hospital bed with Estelle curled up next to him, couldn't help but grin at the thought. He'd survived a bullet, got a second chance at love, and now had the peace of knowing the psycho ex was either rehabilitated or relocated to another dimension.

Either way, she wouldn't be crashing their wedding.

====

The days bled into months, and months slowly unraveled into second chances, healing, and long-overdue happiness.

There were still shadows, of course—enemies, scars, and pasts that refused to stay buried—but for once, everyone seemed to be moving forward instead of simply stuck in the past and surviving.

Lyander and Iraya, once bound by secret and distrust, now walked hand in hand through life. Their relationship had been a rocky ascent.

Lyander, with his brooding past and a family name that came with more enemies than allies, tried hard to protect Iraya from the threats he'd once thought were just his burden.

But Iraya wasn't a delicate flower to be caged. She stood beside him, gun in hand, chin raised.

When an assassination attempt came—again—Iraya was the one who disarmed the would-be attacker by throwing her heel directly into his face before Lyander even reached for his gun.

After that, they began couples therapy. Voluntarily. Progress.

Their wedding wasn't loud or ostentatious. It was elegant, under a canopy of lanterns, surrounded by trusted allies and guarded like a state secret.

Iraya wore black—not for mourning, but as a reminder that love, to her, was strength, and a touch of excitement and adventure.

And Lyander? He finally smiled like he meant it. The kind of smile that said he knew he found his lifetime partner in crime.

====

Lina and Dylan, meanwhile, dropped the bomb no one in high society saw coming.

One morning, the headlines screamed in every tabloid and business column: "Fay Heiress in Relationship with Long-Time Bodyguard!" The photo? A blurry but unmistakably affectionate kiss in the parking lot of a high-end bakery.

The backlash was immediate—gasps, gossip, and one angry foreign duke who had apparently been eyeing Lina since they were kids.

But the uproar died almost as quickly as it began. No one in their right mind would dare go against the Fay family unless they had a death wish—or a very good lawyer and a relocation plan to another planet. Most chose silence.

Still, Dylan didn't leave his post. Therapy was ongoing, yes, but so was his loyalty. When asked why he still worked as her bodyguard, even after Lina moved him into her penthouse, he simply said, "She still forgets to lock the door." Fair point.

Their relationship had ups and downs—mostly due to Dylan's tendency to be overprotective and Lina's tendency to buy luxury items at 2 a.m.—but they made it work.

They was also the overprotective dad and twin brother to worry about, and Dylan needed to court them before he could officially marry Lina.

Somewhere along the way, he smiled more, and she started wearing her heart a little less hidden under designer sarcasm.

====

Estelle and Damien took longer. They had a daughter who now called Damien "Dad" without hesitation, and while Estelle took her time to be a normal mother, the shooting incident had cracked open something between them. Something deep.

Damien, still recovering from the bullet that nearly took him out—and occasionally milking it for sympathy—proposed again in the most Damien way possible: dramatic, half-bloody, and while holding a bouquet of slightly crushed roses he'd stolen from a hospital nurse's desk.

Estelle said yes.

They planned their wedding with intention, knowing how fragile happiness could be.

After a year of Eve's grand ceremony, they wanted something intimate, meaningful, something that reminded them why they fought so hard to come back to each other.

And Damien, to no one's surprise, cried during the vow-writing session.

Estelle didn't let him live it down. "I thought you were supposed to be the tough one," she teased. He wiped his eyes and muttered something about allergies—indoors.

====

And finally, Eve and Cole.

Oh, their wedding. It was the event everyone had been waiting for, dreading, and betting on—depending on who you asked.

The two had postponed their marriage not out of reluctance but because the logistics of their union nearly started an international argument.

Her side wanted a vineyard wedding in Frizkiel. His side, a winter palace ceremony in New York. For a moment, it looked like they'd have two weddings just to appease everyone.

The solution came unexpectedly: an island. Neutral ground. No borders, no politics—just ocean, sand, and love (with very tight security).

The island wedding was the kind of romantic fantasy people dreamed about. Palm trees, fairy lights strung between tall pines, waves lapping at the shore, and a custom-built glass altar surrounded by their closest friends, family, and enough armed guards to deter even the most enthusiastic paparazzi.

Cole wore white. Shocking, truly. "I was forced," he claimed. But he looked annoyingly perfect in it.

Eve, meanwhile, wore a gown that shimmered with every step, with bare feet on the sand and a crown of sea-kissed pearls.