Reborn to heal and take revenge

The silence after the storm was always the most dangerous part.

The banquet had resumed, but the mood was irreparably changed. Laughter now carried an edge of discomfort. Toasts rang hollow. Every eye seemed to linger too long on Elara, and none dared approach her directly.

The fake pendant had been confiscated. The museum official confirmed her suspicions. Meilin had withdrawn to a private room, her face pale and her voice absent. Zian had vanished into the crowd, likely making damage control calls.

And Elara?

She stood with her back straight and her chin held high, but she could feel the tension pulling tighter around her like invisible cords. She wasn't free.

Not yet.

---

After the final toast, as the guests began to filter out into the velvet night, Elara stepped away from the grand hall and into the quiet courtyard. She needed air.

A rustle of fabric announced the presence of someone behind her.

"You left quite the impression tonight."

It was the man again—the one who had spoken to her twice already.

This time, he did not bother with formality. His hands were clasped behind his back, and his sharp eyes gleamed with a mix of amusement and calculation.

"You exposed the daughter of the family in their own ballroom," he continued. "It was a political execution. Clean. Precise. Ruthless."

"I only defended myself," Elara said coolly.

He tilted his head. "Exactly. And that is what makes you dangerous."

She didn't answer.

He took a step closer.

"My name is Jian Yu. Chairman of the Yu Group. And I like to invest in people with potential."

Elara narrowed her eyes. "What do you want from me?"

Jian Yu smiled. "Nothing. Not yet. Just remember that power attracts enemies—and you've just proven you have both."

He left her with that cryptic message, vanishing into the shadows like a phantom.

---

Back home, the storm truly began.

Elara had barely stepped through the front door when the yelling started.

"You humiliated this family in front of every sponsor we had!" her father roared.

"You think you're better than your siblings?" her mother hissed. "You're nothing without this name!"

Zian stood beside them, silent now, but the tightness in his jaw betrayed him. Meilin was upstairs, locked in her room, claiming illness.

Elara took her time removing her shoes.

"I did what none of you ever do," she said quietly. "I told the truth."

Her father stepped forward, fist clenched. "You think you'll survive outside this house? We can make sure your 'acceptance' disappears."

Elara met his fury with terrifying calm. "Try."

There was something in her eyes now that made him pause.

A storm not of tears or tantrums—but of unshakable certainty.

"I don't need your money," she continued. "I never did. The world doesn't revolve around the Lin family anymore. And soon, neither will I."

"You ungrateful—!"

"Enough!" came a voice from the staircase.

It was her grandmother.

She hadn't spoken in months. Had barely appeared in public.

But there she was now, holding the railing, her gaze sharp despite her age.

The room fell silent.

"Elara is leaving in two weeks," she said. "Let her go. There's nothing left for her here. You've all made sure of that."

Then she turned to Elara.

"Live well. Make your enemies regret."

For the first time in years, Elara felt warmth from someone inside this house.

She bowed her head.

"Thank you, Grandmother."

---

In the days that followed, the incident spread online.

Clips of Elara's calm dismantling of the accusations went viral. Blogs speculated about her identity. Students whispered about her at school, too stunned to confront her directly.

She had become untouchable—and untouchable was dangerous.

But Elara didn't bask in the attention.

She used it.

She prepared for Hangzhou.

She studied every detail of the medical program. Reviewed her notes. Trained her mind and body. She spoke with Professor Ren through encrypted emails, each message filled with encouragement.

And yet, despite the noise around her, she still sensed it:

Something was coming.

---

A week before her departure, a package arrived at the Lin estate with no return address.

Inside was a single envelope, stamped with red wax in the shape of a dragon's claw.

A note:

> "You were meant to die that night, Elara Lin. You ruined years of planning. Don't think Hangzhou will be far enough to escape what's coming."

She folded the letter, burning it over a candle before anyone else could see.

Threats weren't new.

But this one felt different.

Calculated.

Personal.

Like someone knew who she really was—and what she was becoming.

---

That night, as she stared at the moon from her bedroom window, she thought of the boy with the pale skin and tired smile. Her childhood friend. The one she had promised to heal.

She didn't even know if he was alive anymore.

But her dream—the one that had driven her through two lives—still pulsed quietly within her:

To find him.

To save him.

And to destroy everyone who tried to take her light again.

She pressed her fingers against the glass.

"Two more weeks," she whispered.