Rebirth: Love me Again

Chapter 2: Eve

". . . E . . . ve . . . Eve!"

I blinked, the long curls of my lashes was getting in the way as I struggled to regain my vision.

Turning towards the man seated at the center table, I couldn't help but be struck by his appearance. His hair gleamed like 24-carat gold, and his eyes were a piercing green, as sharp and vibrant as emeralds.

Despite being in his late forties, he exuded a youthful dignity that was enhanced by his impeccably tailored vest and suit. Every detail, from the pure gold cufflinks to the brooch on his neatly pressed front-buttoned jacket, spoke of his status as the head of the Rosette family –– Sullivan Rosette.

My supposed father.

For a moment, I wondered if I was hallucinating. The last thing I remembered was the sensation of waves crashing around me, dragging me into their depths before everything went black.

Was this heaven?

Surely not.

Seeing the face of the man who had treated me like a stranger since birth made it feel more like this was hell.

No wonder there was never any love in his gaze when he looked at me.

Despite my relentless efforts to earn his affection and approval –– studying late into the night, mastering every subject, practicing countless musical instruments until my eyesight blurred –– he never showed any warmth or concern for me.

I had never truly been his daughter all along.

"What is it?" Sullivan frowned.

My heart sank as I realized that even in this moment, there was no warmth in his tone, no hint of paternal care. I was merely a duty to him, a pawn in the game of appearances and family legacy.

Taking a deep breath, I straightened my posture and prepared to face the man who had shaped my life with indifference.

"Nothing father," I replied, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me.

"Is there something on your mind?"

My attention flickered to the woman who had just spoken. She possessed long curls of dark hair and cold, crystal-grey eyes. She was the pride of her social circles; everywhere she went, nothing but praise followed her.

Sophia Rosette, my supposed mother.

She was the reason I strained my ankles and hurt my back, all to walk elegantly with poise and charm, just like her.

I excelled in etiquette classes, hoping to hear a word of praise from her, but her lips remained sealed. She was always distant and cold towards me, and now I knew the reason why.

"My lady, are you not feeling well?"

My heart thudded hard against my chest. I knew all too well the owner of that voice.

I looked at the innocent face of Sophie. Short dark hair framed her face, and her grey eyes were paired with a charming smile.

She had always been by my side, learning everything I learned in secret. Once, I dared to question why she was present at the family table, and all I received in response were icy stares from my supposed parents and a day-long confinement to my room.

Since then, I never questioned her attendance again.

Now, thinking back, Sophie did bear a striking resemblance to someone . . . now that I knew who she truly was. Minus the wig and the fake dark skin tone, she was definitely a carbon copy of Sophia.

They even had the same name, for heaven's sake!

It was Sophia who named her Sophie. By then, I should have known that something was going on. But I guess I was too busy being engrossed in the opulent life of being rich.

"My lady?" Sophie's voice broke through my thoughts. Her tone filled with feigned worry.

Did she already know?

Of course she did.

Why else would she not have intervened when I was banished?

She could have easily made me her guard or a maid, but instead, she merely watched with indifference as I was dragged onto the boat. Perhaps she couldn't wait to be rid of me so she could have everything to herself.

She must have endured all this time, jealous of everything I had everything that should have been hers. It must have been painful. She also liked Cole, which must have made the jealousy ten times worse.

Too bad I was too ignorant back then to savor the feeling of her agony.

Thinking of Cole, my heart throbbed with painful memories, enough to make me wish he would die.

They would all die!

I'm petty after all.

But above all, hatred surged within me. Hatred enough to forget the man who had never cared about me.

In this life, the two of you could go to hell for all I care.

. . .

. . .

Wait . . .

Did I . . . go back into the past?

I glanced around at the indifferent figures seated at the table.

Yep . . .

This was definitely hell.