The darkness was absolute.

When Arabella opened her eyes, disorientation clouded her thoughts. She blinked repeatedly, but the inky blackness offered no relief.

Before she could make sense of her surroundings, voices broke through the stillness.

"It's been four hours. We haven't heard a thing from the Harts. Do you think they'll involve the police?"

"They wouldn't dare. If the cops get involved, she's as good as dead. Besides, a hundred million dollars is pocket change for them."

The boss smirked and swatted his accomplice lightly on the head. "Use your brain for once. Just follow my lead."

"But..."

The accomplice hesitated before mumbling, "I heard Ashton doesn't even care about this woman. If he did, she wouldn't be in this mess."

Arabella's chest tightened, and her heart raced. Though their words were fragmented and confusing, the mention of someone of Ashton stood out sharply.

The men continued their conversation, their voices low but clear enough for Arabella to discern their intent. Piece by piece, she realized the horrifying truth: she had been kidnapped.

From their words, she gathered that they believed she'd been caught cheating and had brought her to this deserted factory. Their goal? To extort 300 million dollars from her husband Ashton Harts.

The accomplice sounded skeptical. "Why would he shell out so much for a wife who cheated on him? That doesn't add up."

The boss scoffed. "Think bigger." He cracked open a beer, took a long swig, and added, "This isn't about her. It's about her parents."

Arabella's pulse quickened. She strained to hear every word.

The boss revealed that Arabella's parents had once saved Margaret Harts, Ashton's grandmother, sacrificing their own lives in the process. Out of guilt and gratitude, Margaret had adopted Arabella, treating her as her own daughter. When she grew up, she arranged for her to marry her grandson, Ashton.

"Unbelievable," the accomplice muttered, slowly coming around. "But she even has a kid, huh? I guess they'll pay up, no matter what."

The crude remarks stung, and Arabella felt an ache in her chest she couldn't explain.

"You…" Arabella whispered, clutching her head as a sharp pain shot through her scalp, a jarring reminder that this nightmare was real.

The last thing she remembered was her husband strangling her. There'd been a blinding flash of light, a sensation of falling—then nothing.

And now, she found herself in this filthy, desolate factory, overhearing men speak about a life that seemed foreign to her. Words like cheating, husband, and son rang in her ears. It was absurd—she was dead!

Could they have confused her with someone else?

But as they mentioned the Harts and her husband named Ashton, an unsettling realization dawned on her.

Fragmented memories she couldn't place began to surface—brief glimpses of people, emotions, and moments. A distant image of a husband who avoided her. The faint sound of a child's laughter.

And in that moment, she understood the impossible truth:

She had been reborn.