Rebirth:The Perverts Bride.

A jagged bolt of lightning sliced through the pitch-black sky, briefly illuminating the skeletal structure of the unfinished building in an eerie white glow. The steel framework loomed like the ribs of a long-extinct creature, its towering form twisted and monstrous against the raging storm. Diana Mills quaked as she pressed her back against a cluster of cold, rusting steel bars, her breath coming in strained, painful gasps. Darkness flickered at the edges of her vision, her body screaming in torment. A blade was embedded deep in her chest, its hilt protruding like a cruel, foreign limb. Warmth trickled down her torso in thick, crimson streams, staining her trembling fingers as they instinctively clutched the wound. The metallic scent of blood mingled with the dampness of rain-soaked concrete, thickening the air with a sickly sweetness. Her lips parted, her voice breaking with betrayal. "Why? Why would you do this to me?" The storm roared in response, but Diana’s gaze was locked on the figure before her: her sister, Roxy Mills. Roxy stood still, her expression unreadable under the shifting shadows cast by each flash of lightning. The woman with whom Diana had shared her childhood, laughter, and tears, was now the one who had plunged a blade straight into her heart. The storm was nothing compared to the tempest surging within Diana. The pain in her chest was a mere whisper compared to the burning realization that betrayal wore a familiar face. Diana Mills had spent her life as a specter in her own home, a vessel of sacrifice whose sole purpose was to ensure her sister’s survival. From the moment she could comprehend words, she had been told that her existence was a gift not for herself, but for Roxy. The eldest daughter of the Mills family had been born with leukemia, a cruel and relentless disease that turned even the smallest injury into a life-or-death struggle. Their parents had gone to unimaginable lengths to keep Roxy alive, and when doctors suggested that a perfect blood match might be the key to sustaining her, they found their answer in Diana. She was raised not as a daughter but as a cure. Her earliest memories were filled with the sharp scent of antiseptic, the cold jab of a needle against her arm, and her mother’s sickly sweet voice telling her how "lucky" she was to help her sister. Whenever she felt faint from blood loss or her limbs ached from yet another extraction, she was reminded of the "privilege" she bore—to save Roxy, the jewel of the Mills family, the one who genuinely mattered. It was an unspoken rule: Roxy was to be grateful. She was to repay Diana’s kindness. And she sacrificed her health repeatedly. Years of conditioning stripped Diana of any resistance. She surrendered pints of her blood as if they belonged to someone else, letting her vitality be drained so that Roxy could stand a little taller. She convinced herself that if it meant her sister would finally be free from suffering, it was worth it. Six months ago, she had even given a part of her bone marrow, enduring excruciating pain to offer Roxy a new chance at life. She had thought naively, foolishly that this sacrifice would suffice. That Roxy would finally be healed, that the unspoken debt would be settled. But as Diana stood in the dimly lit building, feeling the searing agony of a blade in her chest, she realized the grim truth. She was never meant to survive Roxy’s recovery. Her breath came in short, ragged gasps as she stumbled back, pressing a trembling hand against the warmth of her blood. The metallic scent filled the air, suffocating her. The pain was unbearable, a fiery spear lodged deep within her ribs, but it was nothing compared to the betrayal burning in her veins. Roxy Mills stood before her, the dagger still gripped tightly in her hand, its silver edge glistening with fresh crimson. A smirk curled on her lips, her gaze filled with something nearly triumphant. "If you don’t die," she mused, her voice dripping with mockery, "how will Gayle marry me?" Diana’s body turned to ice. Her vision blurred not from blood loss, not from pain, but from the sheer impossibility of what she had just heard. Her lips parted, but no words emerged at first, as if the very foundation of her world had shattered beneath her. "What… did you say?" Gayle. Gayle Salvo. Her fiancé. The man she had loved and trusted. The one she believed would be her escape from the prison of her family. Memories of him flooded her mind his steady voice, the warmth of his touch, the quiet promises shared in the stillness of the night. She had been his confidante, his anchor, the woman he had vowed to stand beside. But now, facing Roxy, witnessing the sadistic glint in her sister’s eyes, she felt as though she had been drowning in a mirage all along. Roxy let out a short, derisive laugh, stepping closer. "You didn’t think he actually loved you, did you?" She tilted her head, feigning curiosity. "You were just a placeholder, Diana. A means to an end. Gayle was always meant for me." Diana’s mind reeled. She could not breathe. Could not think. The pieces began to fall into place, each revelation slicing into her with the same merciless precision as Roxy’s blade. She recalled the past few months the way Gayle had grown distant, the hesitation in his gaze whenever he looked at her, the missed meetings, the hollow excuses. She had attributed it to stress, the burden of his obligations within the Salvo family. But now, she recognized it for what it truly was. Deceit. All of it. Roxy’s smirk deepened, satisfaction gleaming in her dark eyes. "Poor Diana. Always so eager to give, never realizing when everything was being taken from her." She exhaled, as if the conversation bored her. "But don’t worry; you won’t have to suffer much longer. Once you’re gone, I’ll take my rightful place by Gayle’s side, and the world will forget you ever existed." Diana’s legs wavered beneath her, blood loss dulling her senses, but sheer fury kept her standing. She had given Roxy everything. Her blood. Her strength. Her bone marrow. And in return, Roxy had taken her life. No Diana refused to let it end like this. With gritted teeth, she fought against the weakness pulling her down. Her vision darkened at the edges, her pulse pounding in her ears, but something deep within her refused to submit. If she was going to die tonight, she would not die as a phantom. Not as a sacrifice. If Roxy wanted her dead then Diana would ensure she regretted ever thinking she could win. When Gayle returned to the Salvo family, it felt as though a missing piece of a grand puzzle had been restored. However, within the intricate web of power and legacy, being acknowledged was insufficient he had to prove his worth. His older brother, born merely months before him, was already deeply entrenched in the family’s favor, his name spoken with admiration in the halls of influence. If Gayle was to carve his niche among them, he needed an ally. Someone who could offer him unwavering loyalty, a solid foundation amid the shifting sands of wealth and expectation. Mrs. Salvo, ever calculating, surveyed the available families with the keen eye of a master strategist. The Mills family, while not as esteemed as the Salvos, held enough standing to be a valuable asset. But the choice of whom to bind to Gayle was critical. Roxy Mills was delicate a girl born with the fragility of porcelain. She was thin, often sickly, her frame lost within layers of silk and lace. A woman like that could never stand beside Gayle in the relentless storm of the Salvo dynasty. No, Mrs. Salvo needed someone stronger. So, she chose Diana. Diana Mills possessed a quiet strength. She was poised, resilient, and eager to step into the future laid out before her. For years, Mrs. Salvo ensured that Diana and Gayle were always near each other, nurturing a connection through carefully orchestrated moments. Holidays became opportunities, celebrations transformed into stages where Diana could solidify her bond with Gayle. Every stolen glance, every shared dance beneath the golden glow of chandeliers, every casual conversation turned intimate in the hush of the gardens all of it crafted, all of it intentional. Inevitably, Diana fell in love. Hopelessly. Gayle was everything a woman could desire. His manners were refined, his presence commanding. He embodied a gentleman, but more than that, he was a man burdened by expectation, a man who needed someone to stand beside him, to help him fight for what was rightfully his. Diana wanted nothing more than to be that person. But she had been blind. She never imagined that Roxy her frail, delicate sister would dare to reach for what was hers. Yet, she had. The night the truth was revealed, Diana felt as though the very air had been stolen from her lungs. The two stood in a dimly lit parlor, the soft crackling of the fire the only witness to the betrayal unfolding between them. Roxy’s gaze was steady, her voice deceptively soft. “Diana Mills,” she said, her lips curling into something neither smile nor sneer, but something in between something cruel in its quiet confidence. “If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t even be here.” Diana’s fingers clenched at her sides. “You know I’m the one who has always taken care of you,” Roxy continued, stepping forward, the firelight casting shadows across her pale face. “You’ve even said you would make any sacrifice for your sister, right?” A cold dread settled in Diana’s bones. “Then you’ll just have to sacrifice yourself once more,” Roxy whispered. “For me… and for the child of Gayle growing inside me.” Diana’s breath hitched. A child? The room spun, walls pressing in as if recoiling from the words just spoken. She stared at Roxy, searching for a lie, for some sign that this was a cruel trick, a desperate ploy for attention. But there was none. Only truth. A truth that shattered her.