Twice Reborn: The Forsaken Bride's Divine Fate

Clara Heath POV:

I stood before the heavy mahogany desk, the scent of old leather and dust filling my lungs. Richard Daniel, the patriarch of the family that had taken me in, watched me from his throne-like chair.

The rhythmic tap, tap, tap of his finger against the polished wood was the only sound in the room. It was a sound I knew well. It was the sound of judgment.

"Camilla is ill," he said finally. His voice was cold, leaving no room for argument. "You will take her place. You will marry Lord Kain Beaumont of Greyrock."

A familiar tightness seized my chest, a phantom pain from a life I'd already lived. It brought endless torment and despair—the agonizing pain of being stripped of my right to marry the man I truly loved, only to be forced into taking a dying stranger's hand. That sheer desperation had driven me to throw myself into the icy river just a few days ago, attempting to end my miserable existence. Richard clearly didn't notice that I had drowned and killed myself back then—or perhaps he simply didn't care.

If I were still the foolish girl before that desperate leap, I would have been heartbroken to the point of suffocation. But having died twice now, I was no longer chained by fragile affection. My foolish, desperate longing for love had been completely purged.

When I drowned in that river, my soul had transcended to another realm—a world of cultivation and immortal magic where I walked the path of divine divination. I was on the verge of ascending as an immortal seer, only for the heavenly laws of that realm to reject my lingering soul, casting me back into this flesh.

When I awoke, I realized that while I had spent an eternity in that immortal world, merely two days had passed in this world. I had been pulled from the freezing water and lain in a silent coma for those two days before regaining consciousness.

Yet, returning came at a heavy price. My vast immortal power was reduced to absolute zero, leaving me with nothing but my instinctual gift for reading fate and weaving divinations. Rebuilding my power from scratch here would be like moving mountains with my bare hands; my very first divine reading upon awakening revealed that this realm's world laws were still unformed, and its ambient mana was agonizingly scarce and weak.

That second life had taught me a single, absolute truth: absolute personal strength is the only key to breaking any cage.

I forced the memory down, locking it away with absolute clarity.

Richard must have mistaken my silence for fear. His tone softened, a thin veneer of warmth over cold steel. "Clara, this is your duty. The family has raised you. It is time for you to repay that debt."

He leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with calculation. "It is merely a ceremony to soothe the great man's passing. He is already dying. Once it is over, you will still be a Daniel. The family will not forget your contribution."

I lifted my head, meeting his gaze directly. I saw no affection, no concern. I saw only the cold assessment one gives a tool before its use. He was looking at an object, not a daughter.

I took a slow breath, pushing down the bitter taste in my throat.

"I agree," I said. My voice was calm, steady, and entirely unexpected.

Richard froze. His mouth was slightly open, a long speech of persuasion dying on his lips. He had prepared for tears, for begging, for defiance. He had not prepared for this.

A flicker of satisfaction crossed his face, quickly followed by contempt. She's a fool after all, his eyes seemed to say.

"But," I added, my voice cutting through his thoughts, "I have a condition."

His brow furrowed instantly. The false warmth vanished. "A condition? You are in no position to make conditions."

"I want the Daniel family and myself to be legally and completely severed," I said, each word precise and sharp. "From the moment I am married, I am no longer your adopted daughter. My life, my death, my honor ... will have nothing to do with you."

Richard's face darkened. He slammed his hand on the desk, the sound echoing like a gunshot in the quiet study. He shot to his feet, his large frame casting a suffocating shadow over me.

"Are you insane? Who do you think you are?"

He stalked around the desk, looming over me, his gaze fixed on the red birthmark that marred my right cheek. "Without the Daniel name, you are nothing. An orphan with an unlucky mark on her face. You wouldn't survive three days."

I didn't flinch. I didn't step back. I let his shadow consume me.

"You must promise me." I said, my voice unwavering. "Otherwise, I would rather die than marry him."

"You dare threaten me?" A harsh laugh escaped his lips. He reached for my shoulder.

I took a single step back, his fingers grasping at empty air. "I am not threatening you, Lord Patriarch," I said softly. "I am simply reminding you of something."

My gaze drifted to the gilded law book on his shelf, then returned to his contorted, angry face.

"Having Camilla feign illness, forcing an adopted daughter to take her place in a marriage ceremony with a member of the royal family..." I paused, letting the words hang in the air.

Richard's breathing hitched. A flicker of understanding—and then alarm—entered his eyes.

"This is not just a deception against the Beaumont family," I continued, my tone flat and factual. "It is a deception against the High Sovereign himself. According to imperial law, that is treason."

The word 'treason' hit him like a bucket of ice water. The rage drained from his face, replaced by a ghastly white.

The study fell silent, save for the ticking of the grandfather clock, counting down the seconds of his arrogance.

He stared at me, his eyes filled with shock, disbelief, and a sliver of... fear. He had never imagined that the quiet, obedient girl he saw as a simpleton could possibly know this.

I knew he wouldn't risk it. The honor of the Daniel family, Camilla's future—it was all on the line. If this were exposed, they would lose everything.

A long moment passed. Finally, he ground out the words through clenched teeth. "How... how do you know..."

I didn't answer. I just watched him, my silence my greatest weapon.

He collapsed back into his chair, all the fight gone out of him. He waved a dismissive hand, his voice raspy. "Fine... I agree."

He added, his voice laced with venom, "The lawyers will be here tomorrow. But remember this. Once you walk out that door, you are never, ever to come back."

A small, unnoticeable smile touched my lips. I gave a slight bow. "As you wish, Father."

It was the last time I would ever call him that.

I turned and walked toward the door, each step feeling lighter than the last, as if shedding a heavy, invisible cloak.

My hand was on the brass doorknob when I stopped. I didn't look back.

"There is one more thing," I said, adding my second, and final, demand.