Chapter 2: Reborn for Revenge

Maybe only I understood what he didn’t say out loud. He wanted to say that if Delilah were the one marrying, everything would be better.

I could see it in his eyes—the longing, the regret. He didn’t have to spell it out. In our family, the things left unsaid always screamed the loudest.

He’s my full-blooded brother, but he’s always preferred quiet, gentle Delilah. She’d shyly call him ‘brother’ and make him wallets and slippers, stitching away by the fire.

Sometimes I’d catch him watching Delilah as she sat by the fireplace, needle glinting in the lamplight, working on some gift for him. He’d smile that soft, distant smile, like she was the answer to a question he’d been asking forever.

But me? All I know how to do is eat, crack jokes, and have a good time.

I was the loud one, the wild card. I’d sneak extra biscuits at breakfast, tease the maids, make up silly songs just to get a laugh. Never learned to sew a straight line, never once called my brother anything but his name.

I glanced at Delilah beside me. She’s the youngest, born to my father’s second wife, but raised by Grandma from the start. She never lacked for anything.

She sat with her hands folded neatly in her lap, her pale blue dress catching the morning light. There was a softness to her, a kind of gentleness that pulled people in. Even as the baby of the family, she had a way of making herself the center of the room without ever saying a word.

Today, she wore a pale blue designer dress, subtle patterns woven in—understated but expensive—making her look especially delicate and beautiful. She’d always been timid, so I never paid her much mind.

But today, something was different. The dress hugged her shoulders just right, the color making her eyes look impossibly big and bright. For the first time, I realized just how much effort she put into fading into the background.

At this moment, there was no joy on her face either. Of course, she’d been secretly involved with the Duke of Northfield for ages. Now, with everyone congratulating me instead, it made sense she wasn’t happy.

Her lips were pressed into a thin line, her eyes glued to the floor. I could practically feel the jealousy radiating off her, even as she tried to keep her face blank. I had to bite back a smirk.

…

I sat in front of the mirror, fingers brushing my neck. My skin was pale as ivory, untouched by the ugly bruises I’d worn in my previous life.

The reflection staring back at me looked almost like a stranger—smooth skin, clear eyes, not a hint of the pain I’d carried before. I traced my collarbone, half-expecting to find old marks. The absence of bruises felt like a silent promise.

In my last life, today was the day. The Duke of Northfield didn’t ask me—he just went straight to the governor for the marriage decree.

It still stings to remember how little say I had in my own life. One minute I was daydreaming about Sean Murphy, the next I was offered up like a prize at the county fair. The decree arrived, and that was the end of my dreams.

Back then, I liked someone—Sean Murphy. But I knew you couldn’t just say no to a state decree; I couldn’t bring trouble on my family for my own sake. So I stuffed down my feelings and braced myself to become the Duke’s wife.

I remember standing in my room, clutching Sean’s letters to my chest, trying to convince myself that duty mattered more than love. I thought I was being noble, sacrificing happiness for the family name. Looking back, maybe I was just scared.

Right after I broke things off with Sean Murphy, I bumped into the Duke of Northfield, who was out with my older brother.

They were waiting for me in the driveway, the Duke’s car idling, engine warm. My brother stood off to the side, arms folded, eyes narrowed. The Duke’s smile was all teeth—sharp and cold.

He was furious, and he made sure everyone knew the Harrison family looked down on him.

He raised his voice so the neighbors could hear, accusing us of snobbery, disrespect. The whole thing felt staged, like he was putting on a show for an audience I couldn’t see. My cheeks burned with shame.

He was the governor’s confidant, the youngest duke in the state. The Harrisons couldn’t afford to offend him. Dad was so angry he nearly lost it.

Dad’s hands shook as he shouted, face redder than I’d ever seen. He threatened to send me away, to cut me off, to do anything to save the family’s reputation. The weight of his disappointment was heavier than any punishment.

In the end, it was Grandma who decided.

She called everyone into the sitting room, her voice cool and steady. “Enough,” she said, silencing the room with a look. Whatever Grandma said, went.

My reputation was in ruins, and the Duke of Northfield wouldn’t want to marry me. But he couldn’t defy the state decree, either…

It was the perfect trap—no way out for anyone. The Duke couldn’t back out without crossing the governor, and I couldn’t stay without dragging the family down. It was like being trapped in a chess game where every move was checkmate.

“Have Delilah registered as the legitimate daughter and marry her to the Duke of Northfield. We’ll give her a generous trust fund to make up for Delilah and the duke.”

Grandma’s word was law. “We’ll make it right,” she said, “for everyone’s sake.” The trust fund was supposed to smooth things over, but all it did was make the betrayal feel official.

“It still has to be you, Mom. This family can’t do without you,” Dad said, laying it on thick.

Dad’s tone went syrupy sweet, insincere as always. He was quick to butter up whoever held the power, and today was no exception. “We’d be lost without you, Mother,” he said, but his eyes were already calculating his next move.

I never liked Delilah, but I did feel sorry for her. The mess I made ended up being cleaned up by her, and even Sean Murphy got caught in the crossfire. Dad scolded me for not dying, and my brother called me shameless…

I remember lying awake at night, guilt gnawing at my insides. I never wanted any of this for Delilah—or for Sean, really. But in this house, blame was a currency, and I seemed to be the only one left with any to spend.

A white bedsheet became my final destination.

I can still feel the rough cotton digging into my palms, the world shrinking to a single, desperate choice. That memory never really fades.

After death, I didn’t reincarnate. I just drifted through the Harrison house. Delilah shed a single tear at my funeral: “Second sister is really pitiful.”

It was strange, watching my own funeral from the shadows. Delilah’s tear was perfect—enough to look sincere, not enough to mess up her makeup. I almost wanted to applaud.

Grandma hugged her and comforted her: “Del, you’re just too kind-hearted. It’s Nadine’s fault for not knowing her place, always flaunting her legitimate status and bullying you since childhood. Now she’s disgraced the family.”

Grandma’s words cut deep, every one a twist of the knife. She cast me as the villain, the one who made Delilah’s life so hard. It was a neat little story, one that let everyone else sleep at night.

“But as for the Duke of Northfield, to do so much for you, he can be considered a good man.”

Delilah’s eyes glistened with something like hope. “He really is wonderful, Grandma. He always looks out for me.” The room was thick with the scent of lilies and self-congratulation.

Delilah nodded shyly: “He knows I was bullied for being a second wife’s daughter, so now he’s made me a legitimate daughter.”