Reborn: Marrying My Ex's Comatose Uncle

Ciel Miller's eyes snapped open.

The harsh, blinding light of the massive crystal chandelier stabbed directly into her pupils. Her pupils constricted violently. The world around her was a dizzying blur of motion and color.

Her right hand trembled. The crystal champagne flute she was holding tilted. Ice-cold liquid spilled over the rim, soaking into the delicate silk fabric of her custom-made gown. The sudden, freezing sensation against her thigh sent a violent shockwave through her nervous system.

The muffled, buzzing sound in her ears slowly sharpened. It morphed into the crisp, elegant notes of a live string quartet.

Ciel gasped for air. Her chest heaved up and down as if she had just been pulled from the bottom of a freezing ocean. Her eyes darted around the room in absolute terror.

She saw the women in their designer dresses. She saw the men in their tailored tuxedos. She saw the waiters carrying silver trays. This was the penthouse ballroom in Manhattan.

This was the night her life ended in her previous life.

Her erratic gaze finally stopped at the center of the room. Standing there, surrounded by a crowd of fawning politicians and businessmen, was Harry Chavez.

He wore a perfectly tailored black tuxedo. He turned his head and caught her looking at him. A slow, arrogant smile spread across his face. It was a smile of absolute ownership. It was the smile of a man throwing a scrap of meat to a starving dog.

Ciel's stomach violently churned. Acid rose in her throat.

The memories crashed into her brain like a physical blow. She remembered the public humiliations. She remembered the psychological torture. She remembered the cold, suffocating despair of being trapped in a marriage that slowly drained the life out of her until she died.

She instinctively took a step back. The heel of her stiletto sank into the thick, hand-woven wool rug. The sound was a dull thud, but to her, it sounded like a gunshot.

A waiter passing by noticed her pale face. He stopped and leaned in.

"Miss Miller? Would you care for a glass of iced water? Or perhaps I could show you to the balcony if you need some fresh air?"

Ciel took a deep, ragged breath. She dug her fingernails so hard into her palms that the sharp pain grounded her. The physical sting forced her brain to stop panicking.

She shook her head at the waiter. She placed her half-empty champagne flute onto his silver tray with a steady hand.

At the front of the ballroom, a loud tapping sound echoed through the speakers.

Peregrine Chavez, the current patriarch of the Chavez family, stood on the temporary stage. He tapped his cane against the microphone stand.

The sharp feedback noise sliced through the chatter. The entire ballroom fell dead silent within seconds. Every single pair of eyes turned toward the stage.

Peregrine cleared his throat. A heavy, authoritative smile settled on his wrinkled face. "Ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for joining us tonight. I have a very important family announcement to make."

Down in the crowd, Harry adjusted his silk tie. He lifted his chin, his posture radiating absolute superiority. He took two slow steps toward Ciel, waiting for his moment of glory.

Standing next to the patriarch was Eleonora Chavez, Harry's mother. She looked down at Ciel. Her eyes swept over Ciel's body with a critical, satisfied gleam, exactly like a buyer inspecting a piece of property that was about to be locked in a vault.

Peregrine leaned into the microphone. His voice boomed across the room. "The Miller family has a long, honorable history with us. We have always looked after Ciel. Tonight, we solidify that bond."

Ciel's breathing slowed down. The frantic beating of her heart leveled out. The absolute terror in her eyes vanished, replaced by a sheet of solid, freezing ice.

"To honor our families' deep connection," Peregrine announced with a wide smile, "I have decided to give Ciel's hand in marriage to our finest heir, my grandson, Harry."

The ballroom erupted into polite, enthusiastic applause. Dozens of eyes shifted to Ciel. Some women glared with pure jealousy. Others looked at her with pity.

Harry extended his right hand toward Ciel. He stood there, palm up, waiting for her to blush, lower her head, and walk into his grasp just like she always did.

The applause slowly died down. The ballroom settled into a thick, expectant silence.

Ciel stood perfectly still. She stared blankly at Harry's outstretched hand.

Harry's eyebrows twitched. A flash of irritation crossed his dark eyes. He gave his fingers a slight, impatient flick, silently ordering her to hurry up.

Ciel reached down and grabbed the fabric of her silk skirt. She did not walk toward Harry.

Instead, she turned her body and walked straight toward the empty space directly in front of the stage.

She stopped. She locked her knees and straightened her spine until it was rigid. She tilted her head up, looking directly into the eyes of the powerful patriarch.

The surrounding guests shifted uncomfortably. The air in the room suddenly felt heavy and tight.

Eleonora's fake smile froze on her face. She leaned forward slightly, her eyes widening in a silent, vicious warning for Ciel to behave.

Ciel ignored her completely. She took one final, deep breath. She projected her voice so it carried clearly across the vast, quiet room.

"I am incredibly grateful for the Chavez family's care over the years," Ciel said. Her voice was crisp and did not shake. "But I will absolutely not accept this engagement to Harry."