Rebirth: A Second chance at life

A sudden ringtone broke Aurora's concentration, drawing her attention to her phone.

"Doctor, is it possible to meet today?"

The message was from Sebastian Harper.

Aurora's gaze lingered on the screen, her mind clouded with questions. Why so sudden? she wondered. While it seemed like his concern for his sister prompted the message, a part of her couldn't shake the possibility of ulterior motives. Her thoughts swirled in an endless loop, weighing every angle and potential reason.

As she deliberated, another message arrived.

"I have some reports about my sister."

Aurora's eyes narrowed slightly, her expression unreadable. She leaned back, her thoughts shifting. Is this purely about his sister, or is it something more?

Aurora contemplated for a moment, her expression unreadable, before finally typing a reply:

"Okay, at The Opulent Crumb at 8 pm."

She purposely chose the time and place, a subtle move to maintain control of the situation. Aurora leaned back, her fingers lightly tapping the edge of her phone. He knows everything about me—Aurora—by now, thanks to the background checks he undoubtedly conducted.

Her lips curled into a slow, calculating smirk. So, Mr. Harper, is this meeting truly about your sister, or are you testing me? Well it seems I'll play along with you Mr. Harper.

A glint of mischief and anticipation flickered in her phoenix-like eyes as her thoughts solidified.

Cassandra leaned back in her chair, stretching lazily before casting a curious glance at Aurora. "Aurora, where should we have dinner tonight? I need to head home soon—my project deadline is creeping closer, and, well, I haven't exactly started yet."

Aurora's lips parted, but she hesitated, guilt flickering in her eyes. After a brief pause, she offered a soft smile. "Maybe we should reschedule dinner. I've got some work tonight as well, and I wouldn't want to keep you from your project."

Cassandra arched an eyebrow, her tone laced with playful disbelief. "Work, huh? Look at you, Miss Responsible. Since when did you have such a packed schedule?"

Aurora chuckled lightly, brushing off the question. "Let's just say it's been one of those days. But we'll definitely make it happen next time—my treat."

Cassandra smirked, her playful demeanor softening. "Alright, you're off the hook this time. But don't think you can escape so easily next time."

They settled the bill and bid each other farewell at the entrance of the tea shop. Aurora watched Cassandra disappear into the distance before turning toward her cliffside mansion. The serene view of the sea greeted her as she arrived home, but her mind was focused on her pending medicinal therapy.

Changing into her workout attire, Aurora moved through her routine with precision, every stretch and motion calculated. The rhythmic exertion brought a sense of calm, the physical strain grounding her restless thoughts. Once finished, she transitioned seamlessly into her next step—acupuncture.

With practiced hands, she applied the needles to key points across her body, especially at the back of her neck, where tension seemed to linger. The familiar sensation brought relief, as if layers of fatigue were being stripped away.

Finally, Aurora immersed herself in a warm medicinal bath, the herbs filling the air with a soothing aroma. The heat seeped into her muscles, washing away the aches of the day. As she leaned back, her gaze lingered on the water.

A wave of vitality surged through her, leaving her feeling unexpectedly refreshed. Energy she hadn't known she was missing seemed to return in trickles, filling the void she hadn't realized was there.

"Perhaps," she mused aloud, her tone thoughtful, "a proper diet truly is the key to this body's recovery."

Yet, as her memories merged with those of the host, a troubling inconsistency emerged. The child—her host—had once been plump, well-fed even, indulging in hearty meals. But everything had changed after entering the Smith Family. From that moment onward, scraps and leftovers became her daily fare.

"And yet," she murmured, frowning as her gaze lingered on her reflection, "despite such meager sustenance, she... no, I... was still fat. Why?"

The puzzle gnawed at her thoughts. It wasn't the food alone—there had to be something more. A quiet resolve settled over her.

"I'll need a full body checkup," she decided firmly, her voice carrying a hint of steel. "There's something wrong with this body, and I intend to find out what it is.

She glanced at her watch—5 PM.

"Well, I've got some time to get things done," she muttered to herself. With that, she grabbed her laptop, opened it, and set to work. Her fingers flew over the keyboard at lightning speed, her focus unyielding as the soft clicking of keys filled the room. For an hour straight, she worked tirelessly, tackling the tasks assigned to her with precision and efficiency.

Leaning back in her chair, Aurora's eyes narrowed as fragments of distant memories from her past life flitted through her mind like a half-forgotten melody. "It's time to pay your debt off, she slowly murmured."

A slow, deliberate smirk curled at the corner of her lips, a mixture of amusement and calculated intent gleaming in her eyes. Without hesitation, her fingers danced across the keyboard, the rapid clatter of keystrokes breaking the stillness of the space. Her movements precise as though she were weaving an intricate web.

In a towering office building across the city, workers sat hunched over their computers, their fingers moving in a rhythmic dance of productivity. The hum of focused energy filled the air, each department humming with the sound of efficiency. The office was a well-oiled machine, its occupants driven by deadlines and corporate demands.

But then, without warning, the screens went black. A deep silence descended, replacing the usual murmur of typing and phone calls. For a moment, no one moved—frozen in the eerie stillness.

And then, the screens flickered back to life, but not with the usual work programs or reports. Instead, they were overtaken by an image that was anything but professional—a cartoon character, with its tongue sticking out and its thumbs pointing down, mocking all who stared at it.

And then the words appeared—Loser. The bold font burned into the eyes of every person in the office, its mocking presence impossible to ignore.

The air grew thick with disbelief. Some gaped, others recoiled, but all were united in confusion. What was happening? Who could have done this?

The IT team, usually a pillar of expertise, scrambled furiously at their keyboards. Fingers flew, commands were typed, but nothing worked. The screens remained frozen, the cartoon character and its cruel word taunting the entire office.

Panic rippled through the room. The skilled technicians, the top-tier hackers—none could break the lock on the system. Five minutes passed each second stretching like an eternity. The once calm office now buzzed with frustration and uncertainty.

Who was behind this? What kind of person would go so far as to sabotage an entire building's network with such childish cruelty? The question hung in the air, unanswered, as everyone sat, forced to watch the taunting image flicker on their screens.

Whispers rippled through the office like an electric current, bouncing from desk to desk.

"Who would dare do this? Is someone playing a prank on us?" a junior employee muttered, his voice tinged with both curiosity and fear.

"They must have a death wish, messing with Nexus Group," another chimed in, shaking his head incredulously. "It's the richest conglomerate in the world, only second to "The L". Do they even realize who they're provoking?"

Despite the rising buzz of speculation, the seasoned employees remained stoic, their expressions unreadable. They knew better than to engage in idle chatter during moments like these. Instead, they chose silence, waiting with bated breath for the storm that was sure to follow.