Reborn to Ruin Him: The Heiress's Game

Margaret's hospital room was just the same way it was in my past life. She was laying down in bed with a mask over her face and a needle into her arm while she was pretending to be unconscious.

Liar.

In my past life, I had found out after she came to mock me a few days after I buried my child. She told me that my child was nothing but a bastard and her reason for staying with us was because she wanted to find Jason a new wife. I tried to tell Jason but he didn't believe me.

The sound of beeping machines caught my attention making me stare around. Just as I had expected, she chose the most expensive VIP hospital room to act her drama.

The doctor walked in a few seconds after us.

"Mr. Douglas?" The doctor asked as he looked at his notepad.

I couldn't help but wonder how much she had paid them to act this drama with her.

"What's wrong with my mother? Why did she suddenly have a stroke? She has always been healthy and strong." Jason said speaking like a caring son.

I rolled my eyes.

I crossed my arms and leaned against the wall, watching the little performance unfold.

The doctor gave a rehearsed sigh, flipping through his notes. “It seems she suffered a mild stroke due to stress. We’ll need to keep her here for observation for a few days.”

Mild stroke. Stress. What a convenient diagnosis.

Jason’s eyes softened as he stepped closer to the bed, his hand brushing against Margaret’s. “Mom… you should’ve told me you weren’t feeling well.”

Her fingers twitched ever so slightly beneath his touch. Pretending to be unconscious, yet responding. Typical.

I took a slow step forward, my gaze locked on her face. “Strange,” I said, my voice low but sharp enough to slice through the room. “For someone who’s unconscious, her breathing pattern is a little too… deliberate.”

Jason shot me a look, warning in his eyes. “Lyra—”

I lifted both hands in the air, " I’m just concerned. After all, I wouldn’t want anyone to think this is all an act.”

For a brief second, her eyelids fluttered, and I knew I’d struck a nerve.

But before Jason could say anything else, a phone rang in the room. His phone. He glanced at the screen, and his expression shifted.

“It’s from home,” he muttered, answering quickly.

The voice on the other end spoke fast, but I caught a few words. Enough to make Jason’s jaw tighten.

When he hung up, his eyes met mine, tense. “Something happened at the house.”

My gaze turned to him immediately. "What happened?"

His lips pressed into a thin line. “Someone broke in.”

Broke in? That didn't happen in my past life.

Jason quickly tucked his phone back into his pocket. I knew he wasn't going to want to leave his mother and frankly, I didn't want to stay with her for even a second longer.

I stepped forward.

"I'll go and check it out. You stay and take care of your mother." I said glancing at her one last time as I left.

Margaret still maintained her facade but I couldn't even bear to look at her.

********************************

I opened the door carefully making sure not to make a sound in case anyone was still around. The entire house was a mess. Shards of glass crunched beneath my shoes as I stepped inside. The living room looked like it had been turned upside down. The cushions ripped open, drawers yanked out, papers scattered across the floor.

I moved slowly, my eyes scanning every corner. The curtain by the window swayed gently, though the air inside was still. Someone had left in a hurry.

In the dining room, a chair was tipped over, and the table runner had been pulled halfway to the ground. It didn’t look random. Whoever did this wasn’t after jewelry or electronics. They were searching for something.

My eyes darted up the stairs.

I made my way upstairs, my hand resting on the railing. Each creak of the wood echoed louder than it should have, and my chest tightened. My eyes landed on the open door of our bedroom and I walked inside. The place was just as disarranged as it was downstairs.

My nightstand had also been searched.

Luckily, I had moved my stamp and checkbook the moment I returned. I had still not signed over the transfer of power. In my past life, Jason had managed to frame me for embezzlement.

Was he the one? Or was it Vanessa?

I looked around to check if anything was missing. Just as I had suspected, nothing was taken. My phone buzzed making me bring it out.

It was Jason.

"Lyra, are you okay? Has the police arrived yet?" Jason asked sounding all nice and concerned.

I knew he was behind it.

"Here is the warm water you asked for." A voice echoed in the background. It was Vanessa's voice.

I froze.

The sound of her voice rippled through me like ice water down my spine.

She was at the hospital with him.

Jason cleared his throat quickly, as if trying to cover it up. “That was… a nurse. Don’t worry about it. I’ll send the police over right now. Just stay put, okay?”

I forced a calm tone. “Sure.”

The line went dead, but my grip on the phone only tightened.

In my past life, Jason had been good at hiding his dirt. Careful. Calculated. But now? He was making mistakes. And every slip was proof I could use to deal with him later.

Suddenly, footsteps echoed in the hallway. I quickly hid behind the door reaching for one of Jason's golf clubs and held it tightly ready to swing it. The footsteps got nearer and my hands tightened around the golf club.

The door creaked open. I lifted the golf club, my pulse pounding in my ears.

“Lyra?"

I froze, lowering the club just enough to see him step into view. Vincent. He was dressed in a dark suit, his expression unreadable, eyes scanning the wreckage in the room before settling on me.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice tight.

“I was in the area,” he said, but his gaze was too focused, too alert for it to be a coincidence. “I called and your secretary told me that you had gone home to check after your house was robbed. I had to come. What were you thinking coming here instead of calling the police? What if someone was still around?"

I opened my mouth ready to answer when red and blue lights flashed outside the window. The wail of sirens grew louder until two police officers knocked on the door downstairs.

My eyes widened. Vanessa had told Vincent that I would be here? How did she know? And why did she tell him?

The knock on the door grew louder.

I tightened my grip on the golf club, my mind racing. Vanessa.

Of course.

She wanted this. The break-in, the timing, the fact Vincent was here before the police even arrived. It all painted the picture she was dying to frame. A cheating wife caught at home with another man.

The knock downstairs turned into heavy pounding.

Vincent glanced at me, his brows furrowing. “We should answer before they break the door down.”

I grabbed his hand stopping him before he could move. Vincent's eyes widened as he looked down at my hand holding his.

I couldn't explain.

“Hide under the bed,” I whispered sharply, my voice low but urgent.

His brows lifted. “What—”

“Just do it,” I hissed, pulling at his arm. But as I stepped back to make space for him, my foot hit the edge of the bed

I stumbled, my balance giving way. Vincent reached out instinctively to steady me, but instead, the pull of his weight tipped us both backward. We landed on the bed in a soft, tangled heap.

The faint scent of his cologne surrounded me. It ch, warm, and intoxicating. His body was firm against mine, his hand braced beside my head, his face hovering so close I could feel the heat of his breath.

For a moment, the world outside faded. The pounding on the door, the flashing lights, the danger. All I could hear was the quick, uneven rhythm of my heartbeat…and his.

His eyes locked on mine, dark and intense, searching. “Your heart's beating fast,” he murmured, his voice low enough that it seemed meant only for me.

I swallowed, my lips parting slightly. “Because you… nearly crushed me.”

The corner of his mouth lifted, the faintest hint of a smirk."Or because you also feel the same as I do. You're shy."

My eyes darted to his.

Pushing him off me, I quickly got off the bed and looked away. He was right. There was this sort of pull between us. It hadn't been there in my past life.

"The police can't see you here. If they do, it's not going to end well for both of us." I said trying to sound serious.

"What do you mean?" Vincent asked as his eyes narrowed.

"This is a setup by my husband's mistress," I replied, my voice low, my gaze locked on his.

Before he could respond, heavy boots pounded up the stairs. The sound was getting closer. Fast.

Vincent’s jaw tightened, and in that brief second, I realized… we were out of time.