Living Ancestor Reincarnated With Heir, Socialite Regretted

1: 1

Twenty years ago, Mortimer Sanchez and I teamed up to go get reborn, and Vincent Elmore stared down at the single slot left and frowned.

The quota's used up. If you both want to reincarnate today, you'll have to share one soul between you.

Before either of us could get a word in, he swept the Golden Ledger up in one hand, tore it clean in two, and pressed a half into each of our brows.

"One soul, one fate. From now on, if one of you gets hurt, the other feels it too. And if one of you dies first, the other one comes straight back down here to me."

Twenty years later, Mortimer Sanchez had become the crown prince of the city's elite, and I was locked down tight in his suburban estate.

"My little ancestor, I'm begging you. Stay in the house and behave. You so much as twist your ankle going downstairs, and I'll be aching for half the night."

Every time before he left, he practically wanted to seal me away in a safe.

Until today.

He'd barely flown off to Nasdaq to ring the opening bell when the estate's front gate was bulldozed flat.

Marie Fox came in with a dozen black-suited bodyguards and smashed my bedroom door open.

She took one look at all the padded furniture crammed into the room, and her eyes went red with jealousy.

"Mortimer won't even let me touch him with a fingertip, and here he's got you enshrined like some ancestor!"

She slapped me hard across the face.

"Drag her out to the courtyard! Break both her legs with an iron rod, then scald the skin right off her with boiling water!"

"I'd love to see whether Mortimer spares you a single glance once you're a cripple!"

The dozen or so bodyguards surged forward at once.

I curled in fast, both arms locked over the places that mattered.

The instant the pain hit, I ground my teeth and chanted it silently in my head:

Vincent Elmore's about to come knocking!

You piece of garbage Mortimer, get back here and save me!

...

The crack of the slap rang through the bedroom.

My face snapped to the side, the taste of blood flooding my mouth at once, the right cheek swelling hot and raw.

Back when Mortimer had first found me, he'd seen a small scrape on my arm, some careless little cut, and hissed through his teeth as if it hurt him.

After that, every sharp corner of the furniture in this thousand-square-meter estate was wrapped in the softest foam.

Even the roses in the garden had every thorn stripped off on his orders.

But now that obsession, all that coddling, was exactly what had lit the fuse on Marie Fox's madness.

I swallowed the blood in my mouth, slowly lifted my head, and looked coldly at the woman standing there with her perfect makeup.

"Marie Fox, take my advice and get out of here right now."

I held my swollen face and gave the warning calmly.

"You hit me today, and Mortimer is the one who feels the pain. If you dare cripple my legs, he'll drop to his knees right there on Wall Street."

"And when that happens, forget just you. Your whole Fox family wouldn't be enough to bury with him."

Marie Fox froze for a beat.

Then, as if she'd heard the funniest joke in the world, she doubled over clutching her stomach and shrieked with laughter.

"Naomi Swanson, has Mortimer coddled you until your brain went to mush? Are you delusional now?"

"He feels your pain for you? Why not just say you're his heart and lungs while you're at it!"

She jabbed a finger at me, her eyes full of the haughty contempt you'd aim at a mistress.

"The marriage between the Sanchez and Fox families is a done deal! As the future matriarch of the Sanchez family, I will not allow a cheap little thing like you to stay by Mortimer's side!"

"Do you honestly think keeping you in some suburban villa means he's actually given you his heart? You're nothing but a plaything he keeps out of sight!"

Her finger was practically in my eye now.

"And you want to use Mortimer to threaten me? Men keep a stray cat or dog around now and then, it's normal. But he knows what actually matters."

"Once he's rung that bell and flown home and gets a look at your crippled, wretched state, you think he'll pity you? Or that he'll be sick at the sight of you?"

Looking at how sure of herself she was, all I felt was pity.

Mortimer had let the Fox family's marriage overtures drag on without a refusal,

only because I happened to think that new little cupcake their family had put out tasted pretty good.

She was walking her whole family straight to its grave with her own two hands.

2: 2

The estate alarm split the air with a shriek.

Beep beep beep!

Warning! Unauthorized intruder detected!

Warning! Security system engaged. Connecting to Mr. Sanchez's private channel

Mortimer had this system built to his own specifications.

He was so afraid something would happen to me that if anyone unauthorized came within ten meters,

the alarm would ping the communicator he kept on him at all times.

Even mid-way through a hundred-billion-dollar cross-border meeting, he'd get the alert the instant it triggered.

Marie clapped her hands over her ears, irritated.

What is this garbage, it's deafening!

She glared around at her bodyguards and screamed, What are you standing there for! Smash that piece of junk!

Several of them stepped up at once, swung the iron bars they carried, and battered the control panel on the wall.

Sparks flew. Wiring tore loose.

The ten-million-dollar security system went completely dead.

Butler Lambert charged up with a handful of servants, throwing himself into it.

When he saw my swollen, reddened cheek, his eyes nearly split with rage.

Miss Fox! Have you lost your mind! Miss Swanson is Mr. Sanchez's whole life!

You touch a single hair on her head and Mr. Sanchez will kill you! Stop now, while there's still time!

Marie let out a cold laugh and drove her high heel into his chest.

The kick sent him staggering back, slamming hard into the doorframe, one hand pressed to his chest in pain.

You're nothing but an old dog the Sanchez family keeps. Who said you get a say in here!

As Mortimer's rightful betrothed, his intended, I'm here today to clear out one shameless kept mistress for him. Let's see who dares stop me!

James Lambert kept staring at her, his whole face taut with panic and fear.

Only he knew that the way Mortimer looked at me every time was nothing like a man looking at his lover.

It was a man looking at the other half of his own life.

Miss Fox, you truly will bring down disaster on us all

Blood seeped from the corner of his mouth, and still he tried to talk her down.

Tie this old dog up and gag him!

Marie waved a hand impatiently, and the bodyguards pinned him to the floor and taped his mouth shut.

The whole second-floor bedroom had become a dead corner no one could reach.

Marie turned her head and looked at me like meat on a chopping block.

Putting on airs, you little slut. Let's see who can come save you now!

I looked back at her, cold.

You'll regret this. Mortimer won't let you get away with it.

Marie tossed her curls with contempt.

I've lived my whole life without the word regret in my dictionary!

Get to it! Crush those legs of hers first!

3: 3

The dozen bodyguards in black tightened their circle at once.

I knew there was no dodging this beating today.

To shield my organs and my head, I quickly wrapped my arms around my skull and curled myself tight into the corner.

"Crack!"

The first blow came down hard on my right shin.

A solid hardened-steel baseball bat.

An unbearable, tearing pain ripped through every nerve in an instant.

I heard it clearly, the teeth-grinding snap of bone.

"Ah!"

I couldn't hold it in. The scream tore out of me.

For twenty years, if I so much as scraped my skin, Mortimer Sanchez would dig out the first-aid kit in a panic to treat it.

It had been so long, so very long, since I'd felt the pain of a bone breaking.

"Beat her! Beat her until she can't stand up!"

Marie Fox stood off to the side, a twisted excitement flickering in her eyes.

She even pulled out her phone, turned on the camera, and aimed it at my convulsing, agonized body.

"Naomi Swanson, didn't you always brag that you were the kept mistress Mortimer doted on most?"

"I'm going to film this, and when Mortimer gets back, I'll give it to him as a welcome-home gift."

"I'm going to let him see with his own eyes what a wretch you are, sprawled on the ground begging like a stray dog!"

"Crack!"

Another blow, this one straight onto my kneecap.

My body jerked violently, and darkness swam in front of my eyes in waves.

The bone in my lower leg had already split.

Pain.

A pain that bored straight through me.

But sharper than the pain was the tremor deep in my soul.

The other half of my soul, across the ocean, was enduring the exact same agony!

Mortimer Sanchez.

You bastard.

If you don't come back now, the two of us are going to end up walking hand in hand straight back to report to the Hall of the Underworld today!

At this very moment.

Wall Street. The Nasdaq trading center.

This was the most glorious moment in the history of Sanchez Group.

Mortimer Sanchez, in a custom-tailored black suit,

stood there, that habitual coldness in his eyes.

4: 4

Across the floor, Wall Street's biggest names raised their champagne, all smiles as they watched the young financial titan from the East.

"Mr. Sanchez, it's time. Please ring the bell."

The executive held out the mallet with a bow.

Mortimer gave a slight nod, his long fingers closing around the handle. But in the instant he lifted his arm

His head snapped to one side, and on the calm right cheek,

a handprint bloomed, clear as anything, spreading fast enough to see.

The executive and the reporters all froze.

Before anyone could react.

"Ngh!"

A ragged gasp forced its way through his clenched teeth.

His body shuddered hard, and the mallet hit the floor with a clatter.

Under the horrified stares of the whole room, Mortimer's right shin seized into a strange, violent spasm.

Thud.

He dropped, out of his own control, to his knees on the floor.

Cold sweat rolled off his forehead in an instant.

"Mr. Sanchez!!"

"Boss!!"

The entire hall erupted.

Robert James and a wall of bodyguards tore up onto the stage.

"Doctor! Get the medical team! Clear the room! Clear it now!"

Robert lunged in to help him up and got his arm seized in a grip so hard the nails nearly dug into flesh.

Those eyes, always so cold, were shot through with red now, wild in a way that turned the blood to ice.

"Naomi..."

He forced the name out through his teeth, and every syllable came thick with the taste of blood.

"Trace... the estate alarm... something's happened to Naomi..."

"Ready the jet. Now! Right now!!"

Robert had the encrypted satellite phone out already, hammering the estate's comm lines.

Nothing.

The security system was completely offline.

His hands were shaking.

If something had happened to Miss Swanson, it would rock the whole Sanchez family, and every power player in the city with it.

He switched channels fast and called the informant they kept back home.

"Find out. Right now, who went to the suburban estate in the last ten minutes!"

On the other end the keyboard rattled, and in under five seconds the informant reported back, voice unsteady:

"Executive Assistant James... I've got it. Half an hour ago, Marie Fox took over a dozen excavators and a crew of bodyguards and forced her way into the estate..."

"Marie Fox?!"

Robert sucked in a sharp breath. That reckless little fool!

Did she really think that just because the Sanchezes hadn't refused the marriage alliance, she'd become the rightful mistress of the house?!

He pulled up Marie's number and called it straight.

...