Transformed from Vicious Ex Wife to Beloved A Redemption Romance

After our parents died in a plane crash, my brothers were my whole world. That ended the day they brought Francis home-a manipulative liar they treated like a saint while he systematically turned them against me.

He framed me for everything, from fake injuries to sabotaging the neuro-linker compound that was my life's work.

My brothers always chose his crocodile tears over my truth.

"He's in the hospital, Jenna. Thanks to you," Bryan snarled over the phone.

They even offered him my childhood bedroom right in front of me, as if I was already a ghost.

They had no idea I was about to become one.

I had a one-way ticket to Zurich and a contract with their biggest rival, a man who saw my value when my own blood saw a problem.

I wasn't just running away-I was taking all of their secrets with me.

Chapter 1

Jenna POV:

The contract lay on the table, crisp and unforgiving, much like the realization that my family had become strangers, their eyes reflecting an enemy, not a sister. My hand didn't shake when I picked up the pen.

The words blurred, a legal dance of clauses and commitments. It wasn't just a job offer. It was an escape, a promise of invisibility, and a final, brutal severance. The silence in my office was heavy, broken only by my own shaky breath. My heart hammered against my ribs, a trapped bird desperate for flight. This was it. The real ending.

Cesar Witt, founder of Aegis Collective, watched me from across the desk. His gaze was sharp, intelligent, yet surprisingly gentle. He had seen the raw edges of my talent, the way my mind worked in patterns no one else seemed to grasp. He saw my potential when my own blood saw only a problem.

"Are you certain, Jenna?" he asked, his voice a low rumble. "Once you sign, there's no looking back. We erase the past. Completely."

I met his gaze, my throat tight. "More certain than I've ever been about anything," I whispered, the words scratching against my raw vocal cords.

He nodded, a subtle satisfaction in the slight curve of his lips, a flicker in his eyes that I couldn't quite decipher. It wasn't predatory, not exactly, but it held a possessiveness I recognized. It was the look of a man who knew he was getting something invaluable. The unease that flickered through me was quickly extinguished by the cold resolve hardening in my chest. He was offering a lifeline, and I was drowning.

With a deep breath, I scrawled my name across the dotted line, a definitive stroke that felt like cutting a cord. This wasn' t just a signature; it was a burial. The old Jenna Salazar was gone.

My fingers flew across the keyboard, booking a one-way flight. Zurich. The name felt foreign on my tongue, a new beginning tasting of crisp mountain air and anonymity. I had exactly one week to dismantle my life, to erase every digital trace, to become a ghost in the machine I had once helped build.

One week to say goodbye.

I tried Howard first. My eldest brother, the public face of Salazar Analytics. My calls went straight to voicemail, each missed ring a tiny hammer blow to my already shattered hope. I left a message, a stilted invitation for a holiday dinner, knowing it was probably pointless. He wouldn't pick up. He never did anymore.

Then Bryan. My middle brother. After what felt like an eternity of ringing, his voice, sharp and impatient, cut through the silence. "What do you want, Jenna? I'm busy."

"It's almost the holidays, Bryan," I said, my voice thin, almost pleading. "I thought… maybe we could all have dinner. Just us. Like old times."

A beat of silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken accusations. I knew he was already committed to Francis, to the "long-lost" son of our father' s partner. Francis, with his manufactured charm and his manufactured victimhood. Francis, who had systematically poisoned my brothers against me.

"Is Francis not invited?" Bryan's voice dripped with disdain, a familiar, painful tone. "Still jealous, are we?"

My chest tightened. "I made his favorite spiced cider, Bryan," I blurted out, a desperate, childish attempt at manipulation, even as I hated myself for it. "You know how much he loves it. I was going to bring it to the house."

There was a sharp intake of breath on his end, followed by a low murmur I couldn't quite catch. Then, his voice, colder than before, hit me. "He's in the hospital, Jenna. Thanks to you."

The accusation, raw and unfounded, made my stomach clench. Again. The last time, it was a conveniently placed bruise, a whispered lie about me pushing him. Before that, a feigned allergic reaction to a dish I' d meticulously prepared, painting me as careless, even malicious. It was always something, always my fault.

"I can bring the cider there," I offered, ignoring the barb, my resolve hardening. This was my last chance, my final, futile bid for peace. After this, there would be nothing left to salvage.

Another long silence. Then, a faint, almost imperceptible voice in the background, weak but clear. "Cider... Jenna's cider?"

Bryan' s sigh was heavy, laced with a familiar exasperation. "Yes, Francis. It's Jenna. She's asking if the cider is for you."