Rebirth:The Perverts Bride.

A Plan Well Orchestrated.

Diana Mills felt as though the very sky had collapsed upon her, a vast vault of despair pressing down with a suffocating weight on her chest. The betrayal that had pierced her heart was a relentless storm, swirling with the horrifying realization that she had never truly belonged in this world that had promised her love and acceptance. Her sister, Roxy—who she had bled for, whom she had loved with an unyielding heart—stood before her, a glint of malice sparkling in her eyes, a knife clenched tightly in her hand. And Salvo, the man she had once believed to be her sanctuary from the chaos of life, stood there too, his silence a testament to his complicity in the unraveling of her very existence.

“Because of you, Gayle actually suggested that I terminate this pregnancy,” Roxy sneered, her voice dripping with venom, each syllable a sharpened spear aimed at Diana’s heart. “Diana Mills, tell me, can I ignore my child’s life? I can’t. So, the only option left is for you to die!”

As Roxy’s chilling smile spread across her face, her fingers tightened around the hilt of the blade, a serpent poised to strike. In one swift, merciless motion, she plunged the knife deep into Diana’s chest, a visceral betrayal that felt as if the world itself had tilted off its axis. A searing pain tore through her, a visceral reminder of her fragile mortality, as warm, metallic blood gushed from her lips, pooling like crimson ink on a blank page.

“You… you plotted against Salvo to get pregnant… didn’t you?” Diana gasped, each word a struggle against the thick fog of pain and despair that enveloped her. She clung desperately to the last shred of strength that flickered within her, a dying ember in the suffocating night.

Roxy laughed, a cruel and triumphant sound that reverberated in the hollow chamber of Diana’s heart. “Oh, Diana, you truly are pathetic. Do you really think Salvo would ever choose you over me? I am the real heiress of the Mills family—you were nothing more than a stand-in, a shadow in my light.”

The room spun violently as Diana’s vision blurred, the edges of her reality fraying like the threads of an unraveling tapestry. And then, through the haze of her pain, she saw him. Salvo Grant. Standing there, his face was a mask of cold indifference, as he reached for the control panel of a large industrial blender—a monstrous machine that growled to life like a beast awakened from a long slumber.

Diana’s heart clenched, a tightening coil of despair wrapping around her. No. No, it couldn’t be. The betrayal was too deep, too unfathomable.

“Salvo…” she whispered, her voice a fragile thread laced with despair, each syllable a mournful plea for understanding.

Without hesitation, he pressed the button, and the machine roared to life, its guttural growl drowning out the last remnants of her hope. Thick, wet cement began pouring out, a viscous flood that filled the air with the scent of stone and death, a promise of finality that seeped into her very bones.

This was it. This was how they would erase her, a life snuffed out like a candle in the wind.

Suddenly, the crunch of gravel echoed in the distance, a sound that pierced through the fog of dread. A car approached, its headlights slicing through the darkness like a beacon of hope. Her parents. They would save her. They had to.

But as Dedan Mills and Ivy stepped out, their expressions were devoid of shock or concern, as if they had come to witness a mere spectacle rather than the brutal end of their own flesh and blood. Dedan spoke, his voice chillingly calm, a conductor orchestrating the demise of his own daughter.

“Move a little to the left,” he instructed Salvo with a dispassionate tone. “If you’re going to bury her, do it properly.”

Diana’s body trembled, but it wasn’t from the searing pain that coursed through her chest; it was from the crushing weight of realization that pressed down upon her like an iron shroud. Her own father, the man who had once held her in his arms and whispered promises of love and protection, was ensuring her death.

Her own mother stood idly by, a specter of indifference, a ghost of the nurturing figure she had once known. Every sacrifice, every moment of loyalty, every drop of blood she had given to this family—worthless. She had been their pawn, a mere tool in their twisted game of power and betrayal. Never a daughter. Never a sister. Never a lover.

A tear, warm against her cold skin, slipped down her cheek, tracing a path of grief and despair. Not from fear. Not even from the excruciating pain that radiated through her body. But from the shattering, unbearable grief of knowing she had never been loved at all. The realization hung heavy in the air, a noxious cloud that threatened to suffocate her.

As the cement continued to pour, thick and unyielding, Diana's mind raced back through the years, searching for the moments that had defined her existence. Memories flashed before her eyes—her father’s laughter echoing through the halls of their home, her mother’s gentle touch as she tucked her into bed, the warmth of Roxy’s embrace when they were children, the bond they had forged in the fires of childhood innocence.

But those memories felt like ghosts now, fading echoes of a past that had been twisted into something monstrous. The happiness that had once danced in their eyes had been replaced by a cold, calculated cruelty. The love had been a facade, a mask worn to hide the true nature of their hearts.

“Diana, my dear,” Dedan’s voice cut through her thoughts, smooth as silk but laced with steel. “You’ve always been a disappointment. An obstacle in our path. It’s time to remove you from the equation.”

The world around her blurred further, and she felt herself slipping away, the edges of her consciousness fraying like an old tapestry consumed by moths. But in that fleeting moment, a flicker of defiance ignited within her—an ember of strength that refused to be extinguished.

“No!” she gasped, her voice rising above the roar of the machine, a desperate cry that echoed in the void. “You will not erase me! I will not be your sacrifice!”

With every ounce of willpower left, she fought against the pain, the betrayal, the overwhelming darkness that threatened to pull her under. She would not go quietly into that abyss. She would not allow them to define her existence, to dictate her worth.

As the cement poured, thick and heavy, Diana summoned the memories of her love, her hopes, and her dreams. She thought of the life she had envisioned, the joy she had once felt, the love she had given so freely. These were the true markers of her existence, the essence of who she was.

“I am Diana Mills!” she shouted, her voice a battle cry against the encroaching darkness. “I am not a pawn! I am not your tool! I am a woman, and I will fight for my life!”

In that moment of defiance, the world around her shifted. The cement, instead of sealing her fate, became a catalyst for her strength. It was not the end, but a beginning—a rebirth forged in the fires of betrayal and despair.

As the roar of the machine faded into the background, Diana felt the weight of her family's betrayal transform into a fierce determination. She would rise from the ashes of their cruelty, stronger than ever before, and reclaim her story. The sky may have fallen, but she would not be crushed beneath it. She would rise, a phoenix born from the flames of her own resilience, ready to confront the darkness that had sought to consume her.