Reborn on the Fateful Night

The relentless creaking of a rusted ceiling fan sliced through the suffocating heat of the rundown motel room. Valerie Ellsworth’s eyes snapped open. A dull, throbbing ache radiated through her limbs and deeply penetrated her bones. She lay frozen on the cheap, stained mattress, staring up at the water-damaged ceiling. The air smelled of stale sweat, mildew, and sex.

A heavy, scorching weight pressed against her side.

She turned her head, her neck stiff and protesting the movement. A naked, muscular male form slept peacefully beside her in the dim light filtering through the frayed curtains. His broad shoulders rose and fell with a steady, tranquil rhythm.

It was Desmond Bancroft.

He was naked. The thin, scratchy sheet was pushed down to his waist, exposing his sculpted chest and the sharp lines of his stomach. Lower down, the covers barely concealed his flaccid penis resting heavily against his powerful thigh. Valerie shifted her legs, and a sharp, raw stinging erupted in her vagina. The sticky remnants of his semen coated her inner thighs, drying against her sensitive skin. Hours ago, fueled by a dangerous drugged haze, Desmond had pinned her down and aggressively forced his penis into her, tearing her hymen and taking her virginity without an ounce of gentleness. He had used her body with a primal, unrelenting force, leaving her battered and sore.

A paralyzing jolt of horror struck her core like a lightning bolt. Her mind spun, struggling to process the impossible reality in front of her.

She remembered dying. She remembered the metallic, bitter taste of poison burning her throat, the agonizing spasms twisting her stomach into knots, and the cold, unforgiving floor of her isolation cell as she gasped her final breaths. Yet here she was, breathing the stifling air of room 506.

She had been resurrected into the past.

She was trapped back on the exact cursed night that would act as the catalyst for her systematic destruction. She had saved him from drowning in the ocean. She had dragged his half-submerged body onto the shore. Without her ID, this crappy motel had been her only option. She had thought this night of intimacy would make him love her. Instead, this physical violation was the exact starting point that would pave the way for her pathetic demise.

Trembling with a sudden rush of adrenaline, Valerie snatched her phone from the rickety wooden nightstand. The screen lit up, glaring in the dim room. She tapped the messaging app, her eyes locking onto a sent text.

She had already begged her best friend, Vanessa Channing, to bring a clean set of clothes. The timestamp showed it had been sent half an hour ago.

In her past life, Vanessa had arrived at this very motel. Vanessa had brazenly stolen the credit for rescuing Desmond from the dark, freezing sea. Using that stolen gratitude, Vanessa manipulated her way into becoming the only woman Desmond cherished. To give Vanessa a secure place by his side, Desmond had ruthlessly annihilated everyone Valerie loved.

The memories flashed behind Valerie's eyes in a brutal montage. Her father, Richard, clutching his chest as a fatal heart attack claimed him after the Ellsworth Group was hostilely taken over. Her mother, Diana, losing her mind to grief, locked away in a psychiatric ward. Her older brother jumping from the roof of the corporate tower, his body shattered on the pavement. And Valerie herself, dying a pathetic, poisoned death while Desmond handed the remnants of her family's empire over to Vanessa.

A visceral, burning rage consumed Valerie. The sheer intensity of her hatred eclipsed the physical pain radiating from her core. She ignored her own aching, naked body. She ignored the humiliating mess he had left between her legs.

She viciously climbed onto the sagging mattress. The springs groaned in protest. She straddled Desmond's hips, pinning his lower body down with her weight. Her bare skin pressed against his, but all she felt was raw disgust. She raised her hand high into the air and slapped his face with every ounce of her raw physical strength.

The loud smack echoed like a gunshot in the grim room.

His head jerked to the side. She raised her other hand and slapped him again. Another sharp crack rang out. Her palms stung, turning a furious red from the force of her strikes. She wanted to kill him. If a heavy lamp or a jagged piece of glass rested on the nightstand, she would drive it straight through his chest without a single second of hesitation. She rained blows down on him, pouring years of suffering, grief, and betrayal into every strike.

She swung her hand down for another brutal slap.

Her wrist was abruptly caught mid-air.

Desmond’s strong fingers locked around her arm like a steel vice. The impact sent a shockwave up to her elbow. He was still half-asleep, his actions driven by pure muscle memory and instinct.

"Babe, sleep a while longer." Desmond murmured the words in a low, groggy voice. His eyes remained firmly shut, oblivious to the identity of the woman straddling him.

Valerie froze instantly. Her breath hitched in her throat, stalling painfully. She stared at his handsome, tranquil face, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She did not dare make a sound. She waited. Seconds ticked by in agonizing slow motion. His breathing deepened, returning to a steady, even cadence. The iron grip around her wrist finally slackened.

She pulled her arm back in profound disgust, her chest heaving.

She resolved to sever all ties. She scrambled off the bed, her bare feet hitting the gritty carpet. She grabbed her seawater-dampened clothes from the floor and shoved them onto her sticky body. The thin fabric clung to her skin, making her shiver. She needed to hide the shameful marks covering her neck and collarbone. She snatched his oversized suit jacket from the back of a chair, ignoring the expensive scent of his cologne lingering on the fabric, and threw it over her damp clothes.

She fled the room, leaving the door ajar as she practically ran down the hallway.

Valerie stumbled down the narrow, poorly lit stairwell. Every step sent a fresh jolt of pain radiating from her sore core up her spine, but she gritted her teeth and kept moving. She reached the ground floor lobby. The neon 'Vacancy' sign buzzed incessantly outside the glass doors, casting a harsh pink glow over the cracked linoleum floor and the faded wallpaper.

A young woman stood behind the front desk, sorting a stack of cheap registration cards.

Valerie walked closer and locked eyes with the receptionist. The woman had striking, distinctive features that commanded attention even under the unforgiving fluorescent lights. Recognition hit Valerie like a physical blow.

It was Audrey Kline.

In the future, Audrey would become a massive movie star known across the country. In Valerie's previous life, Vanessa had considered Audrey a massive threat, going out of her way to suppress the rising actress just because Desmond had shared a few casual meals with her.

A cold, calculating thought sliced through Valerie’s mind. Vanessa wanted to play the hero and steal Desmond's heart today. Why let Vanessa have an easy path to victory? If Audrey went up to that room instead, would Desmond fall for Audrey?

Valerie stepped right up to the counter. She pulled the oversized jacket tighter around her shivering frame.

"The guest in room 506 asked me to get you. He said he needs a favor." Valerie spoke the words with chilling calmness.

Audrey blinked, her brow furrowing in confusion, but Valerie did not wait for her to ask questions. She turned her back on the front desk, pushed through the heavy glass doors, and stepped out into the cool morning air. She left the motel behind, letting the future unfold however it wanted, eager to see Vanessa’s perfect fairy tale ruined by an unexpected variable.

Valerie hailed a passing cab and directed the driver to a pharmacy near the Ellsworth estate. She slouched against the backseat, watching the familiar streets of the city blur past the window. The soreness in her body served as a constant, nagging reminder of the danger she was in. She needed to take control of her physical state immediately.

In her past life, she had endured a disgraceful, humiliating pregnancy. She had discovered she was three months along right after her forced marriage to Desmond. His prestigious family had treated her like garbage, viewing her as a shameless schemer who used a baby to trap their precious heir. No one cared that Desmond openly paraded his affair with Vanessa. The child had brought her nothing but crushing shame and a permanent shackle to a man who despised her. She utterly refused to repeat that nightmare.

The cab pulled up to the curb. Valerie handed the driver a crumpled bill and hurried into the brightly lit pharmacy.

She marched straight to the family planning aisle and grabbed a box of emergency contraceptive pills. She paid the cashier, purchased a bottle of water, and walked out. She turned into a quiet, empty alley beside the store. She popped the small pill out of its foil backing, tossed it onto her tongue, and swallowed it down with a long gulp of water. The cold liquid washed away the dryness in her throat. She crushed the empty cardboard box in her fist and threw it into a nearby trash can, feeling a massive weight lift from her shoulders.

She hailed another cab and returned to the Ellsworth home.

The moment she stepped through the grand double doors of the foyer, the comforting scent of vanilla and polished wood enveloped her. The house was exactly as she remembered it before the devastating bankruptcy. Only Donut, her golden retriever, noticed her arrival, trotting over to happily lick her ankle.

Her mother, Diana, paced near the bottom of the grand staircase in the living room, a worried frown creasing her forehead. Her father, Richard, stood nearby with his phone in hand.

"Why hasn't Val come back from her friend's place yet? Did something happen?" Diana asked, her voice laced with deep anxiety.

"Give her a call and check." Richard tapped the screen of his phone, ready to dial.

Valerie dropped Desmond's heavy jacket onto a nearby velvet chair. Her vision blurred with thick, unshed tears. These were the parents she had watched suffer and die in agony. The pain of losing them still carved a hollow, bleeding void in her chest.

She rushed across the marble floor and threw her arms tightly around her mother.

"Mom." Valerie buried her face in Diana's shoulder, inhaling the familiar, safe scent of her expensive perfume.

"Oh, honey?" Richard looked up, surprise flashing across his weathered face.

Valerie turned and pulled her father into the emotional embrace, her tears finally spilling over her lashes and soaking into his crisp dress shirt. She squeezed her eyes shut, listening to the strong, steady beating of his heart. A heart that would one day fail because of Desmond's calculated cruelty.

"Dad," she mumbled into his chest, her voice choked with sorrow.

"What happened, honey?" Richard asked, his large hands awkwardly patting her back. "Are you alright?"

Valerie pulled back slightly, swiping the moisture from her cheeks with the back of her hand. She shook her head, forcing her red eyes to meet his gaze.

"Nothing. I just missed you both so much."

Richard let out a long breath, a fond smile breaking through his confusion.

"Oh, my silly girl. Still acting like a kid. Go get ready. We agreed to have dinner with the Bancrofts today. Did you forget?"

The dinner. Valerie's mind raced, shifting gears. This was the scheduled dinner at Bancroft Villa to discuss their long-standing childhood engagement. In her past life, she had been full of naive hope, thinking their night together meant progress. But Desmond had failed to show up, leaving her parents embarrassed and disappointed.

She could use his typical absence as perfect leverage. Once her parents saw his blatant disrespect and felt let down, asking them to break the engagement would be a natural, effortless transition.

"Okay. Let's go." Valerie agreed without hesitation.

She went upstairs, scrubbed her skin raw in a scalding shower until the scent of the motel was gone, and changed into a simple, elegant dress.

The evening at Bancroft Villa proceeded exactly as she remembered. The grand dining room was a showcase of immense wealth, with crystal chandeliers casting a warm glow over the long mahogany table. Desmond’s parents and his younger brother, Matthias, sat across from them.

Just as she expected, Desmond did not show up. He did not appear even after they finished eating dessert.

The Bancroft elders offered warm, polite conversation, but the tension in the room was palpable. Richard and Diana maintained their dignity, though the disappointment etched deep into their features was plain to see after they walked out the front doors. They were already questioning if this marriage alliance was even necessary.

Valerie felt a surge of relief. The setup was flawless.

As the disappointed Ellsworths walked down the sweeping stone steps toward their parked car in the driveway, the crunch of tires on gravel broke the silence. A sleek black car pulled in and stopped abruptly.

The driver's door opened, and Desmond stepped out.

Valerie stopped dead in her tracks. Her whole body stiffened. Her breath hitched. He was not supposed to be here. In her past life, he had never made an appearance on this day. She realized her slight delay to sneak out and buy the emergency contraceptive pill had fundamentally altered his timeline. They had left the villa later than before, causing their paths to intersect.

Desmond looked profoundly worn out. He wore a simple white shirt, the top buttons undone, exposing his collarbone. Loose strands of dark hair fell over his forehead. Despite his obvious exhaustion, he still looked unfairly handsome. His lean frame carried an air of heavy fatigue, and his expression was distant.

"Hey, Desmond?" Richard greeted him, a hint of pleasant surprise returning to his tone.

Desmond stopped walking. He looked at the older couple, his eyes cold as ice.

"Hi, Mr. Ellsworth. Mrs. Ellsworth." His voice was freezing cold, low and raspy. Compared with Richard's warmth, his demeanor was miles away.

"Didn't sleep well last night?" Richard asked, trying to bridge the gap.

"Yeah." Desmond gave a single nod, offering nothing more.

Valerie stood slightly behind her parents, her eyes locked on him. She studied his face, expecting to see red marks or bruises from her relentless slapping. His skin was flawless. Not a single blemish marred his features. She clenched her fingers, wondering if she had not used enough strength, or if his skin was just made of brick.

Diana stepped forward, fussing over him.

"Desmond, you're wearing so little, and the autumn air is getting quite sharp. You should really take better care of yourself."

While her mother spoke, Valerie’s gaze dropped to his waist. Her breath hitched for a second time, stalling painfully in her throat.

Sticking out of the pocket of his dark suit pants was a piece of pink crystal.

It was a delicate gemstone, catching the ambient light from the villa's porch lamps. Against the expensive, dark fabric of his trousers, the pink hue was glaringly obvious.

Valerie instinctively brought her hand up and touched her left wrist.

Her skin was bare.

The pink crystal bracelet she always wore was gone. Panic spiked through her veins. In her past life, the bracelet had stayed safely on her wrist. But in this new reality, she had slapped him, and he had seized her wrist mid-air to stop her. The delicate clasp must have broken during that brief, intense physical struggle in the bed.

Desmond had picked it up. He had kept it.

A wave of sudden dizziness washed over her. She pressed her lips together, forcing herself to breathe.

Diana noticed Valerie’s awful expression and stepped back, pulling her daughter forward.

"Val, you okay? Are you feeling shy to see Desmond?" Diana teased gently.

Desmond shifted his attention to Valerie. His sharp, icy gaze fixed straight on her face. Even though he had appeared, his attitude toward her had not changed at all. In his deep eyes, raw impatience and open disgust flashed by. He looked at her as if she were a nuisance he could barely tolerate.

The suffocating orbit of his presence made her skin crawl. She desperately needed to escape.

"Mom, let's go. Desmond looks like he needs some rest." Valerie urged, her voice devoid of any affection, avoiding his intense gaze.

Diana nodded, turning back to Desmond to offer a proper goodbye.

Before Diana could speak a single word, Desmond’s phone rang sharply.

The shrill tone sliced through the tense silence. Desmond did not hesitate. He pulled the phone from his pocket, accepted the call, and lifted it to his ear.

His entire demeanor shifted in a fraction of a second. The icy wall shattered.

"Hello? You're home?"

He physically turned his body away from the Ellsworth family, angling himself toward the massive oak doors of the villa. He slipped his free hand back into his pants pocket, brushing against the pink crystal.

He spoke in a low, breathtakingly tender voice. It was a tone laced with deep affection, care, and a protective warmth he had never once used with Valerie in their entire lives. He did not spare the Ellsworths another glance as he walked away.

Richard stood frozen by the car door, staring at Desmond's disappearing figure in utter bewilderment. He frowned, wondering who on earth was on the other end of the line, and what kind of person could make the cold, ruthless Desmond look so incredibly gentle.