Reborn As The Billionaire's Fake Fiancée

"Darling, she's finally dead."

The voice cut through the dark. Sharp. Mocking. Chloe knew it. Gisele.

A diamond engagement ring flashed in her mind—the one that should have been hers. Gisele was showing it off, her fingers laced with Drake's.

"She should have died a long time ago." Drake's voice was soft against Gisele's skin. "An adopted daughter, thinking she was worthy of marrying me?"

He kissed Gisele. Long. Possessive. Chloe wanted to scream, but no sound came. She was trapped, watching them cling to each other over her broken body.

The dream shifted. Cold seawater swallowed her. Weight pressed down from all sides, pulling her into blackness. Her lungs burned. She gasped, but there was no air. Just water. Just drowning.

Then—

Beep. Beep. Beep.

A steady rhythm. An anchor pulling her up from the deep. The pressure in her chest eased. Her fingertips tingled.

She could feel again.

Her eyelids were heavy. She fought them open. A sliver of light.

Not a hospital ceiling. Something softer. Metallic sheen. Sleek. Futuristic. She blinked, squinting. A huge room. Minimalist furniture. Expensive. A floor-to-ceiling window showed nothing but blue ocean.

She looked down. Silk patient gown. A sleek device strapped to her wrist, thin wires leading to a machine beside the bed.

Then the memories hit.

The cliff. The freezing water. Gisele and Drake's faces, twisted with triumph.

A strangled gasp escaped her throat. She bolted upright, heart slamming against her ribs.

"I'm… alive?" Her voice came out dry. Raspy. Unfamiliar.

Panic. She clawed at the tube in the back of her hand. Fumbled. Clumsy.

The door slid open with a soft hiss.

A tall figure stood silhouetted in the light from the hallway. His presence filled the room. Sucked the air out of her lungs.

Chloe froze, hand hovering over the needle.

He walked toward her. Expensive leather shoes made soft, deliberate sounds on the floor. Each step like a drumbeat. Counting down to something she couldn't name.

He stopped beside the bed. Looked down at her. His eyes were dark. Deep. Unreadable as a frozen lake. His gaze dropped to her hand, still poised to rip out the IV.

"If you want to die," he said, voice low and flat, "I don't mind throwing you back into the sea."

The cold finality of it shocked her still. Her hand fell limp at her side.

She looked up. Really looked at him for the first time.

Beautiful. Like a statue carved by a master. Sharp angles. Perfect symmetry. And just as cold.

She didn't recognize him. Never seen this man before.

"Who are you?" she whispered, voice trembling. "Where am I?"

He didn't answer. He pressed a button on the panel beside her bed.

A nurse entered, pushing a cart.

"Mr. Noble," the nurse said, voice respectful. Quiet.

Noble. The name echoed in Chloe's mind. In America, that name meant power. Wealth. The kind most people couldn't imagine.

Ashton Noble ignored her, his attention on the nurse. "Run a full diagnostic. Make sure she lives."

The nurse got to work. Quiet. Efficient. Ashton turned, posture already angled toward the door.

Terror shot through Chloe—hotter than anything she'd felt before. He was her only link to this new reality. She couldn't let him walk away.

"Wait!" The word tore from her raw throat. "Did you save me?"

Ashton paused at the door. His back still to her. He didn't turn around.

"Your life is mine now," he said, tone leaving no room for argument. "You don't get to die without my permission."