Dead: Now I’m Their Beloved

The phone buzzed just as I was about to leap from the bridge.
The caller ID read Danny Vancemy ex-fianc, the newly crowned movie star who had, just thirty minutes ago, publicly announced his relationship with Zoey Bell, the long-lost heiress of the Sterling family.
I answered. His voice, dripping with condescending triumph, slid through the speaker. "I'm going to be a father, Aria. And the mother isn't you."
He thought this was his final judgment, his ultimate victory. He had no idea he was setting me free.
Im a transmigrator. My mission was to save four villains on the brink of their descent into darkness, Danny included. But everything I had, everything I was, had been stolen by a woman named Zoey. Now, with my final mission failed, I could finally escape.
The System had been clear: once all missions failed, I could return home through death.
Home
Even if it meant facing the pain of my sickbed again, it was worth it just to see my parents one more time.
Congratulations, I whispered, and let the phone slip from my fingers, a dark speck swallowed by the black water below.
I climbed onto the railing, spread my arms, and prepared to embrace an embrace I had longed for.
ARIA!
A raw scream tore through the night, followed by the screech of tires.

1
Before I could even turn, a powerful arm yanked me back from the railing.
My back slammed into the guardrail, the impact forcing a pained grunt from my lips. The person held me from behind, their grip so tight it felt like they were trying to merge my body with their own, the pressure making my bones ache. A familiar scent of fir, mingled with sweat and the ragged sound of frantic breathing, filled my senses.
Kian Archer. The new prodigy of the tech world.
What was he doing here?
Oh, right. The tracker hed installed on my phone years ago. When we were in love, hed said it was because he was afraid of losing me. After we broke up, I forgot to delete it. And now, it had become the first shackle to chain me to this world.
He was a wall, trapping me between his body and the cold metal of the guardrail. His tie was askew, his chest heaving.
My escape had failed. A surge of white-hot anger flared within me.
I glared at him, a cornered cat with its tail stepped on.
Aria, he ground out, his usually impassive face twisted with fury. You want to die that badly?
The Patek Philippe on his wrist dug painfully into my skin. For a moment, I was transported back to a leaky, drafty apartment, where Id spent a month eating instant noodles with him, a broke student. Id used my very first scholarship payment to buy him that watch on an installment plan.
His eyes had been red then. Hed held me and promised, Aria, from now on, all my time is yours.
Now, he looked at me as if I were a bug in his code, his words sharp as a scalpel.
So Danny dumped you, Zoey has everything, and this is your next move? A pity party on a bridge?
Whos this performance for?
Aria, since when did the woman who took a check from my rival just to backstab Zoey become so pathetically simple-minded?
My heart felt like it had been squeezed by a giant fist.
So thats what he thought. In his mind, even my desire to go home was just another calculated performance. A single lie from Zoey was all it took for him to brand me a vicious, money-grubbing shrew.
I looked at the disgust in his eyes and suddenly felt an immense wave of exhaustion. I stopped struggling. My body went limp as I looked up at him, a hollow smile on my face.
Kian, I said softly. Youre wrong.
This isnt a performance.
I just want to go home.
As the words left my lips, the world tilted. A combination of low blood sugar and the complete release of all my tension sent a wave of blackness over me.
In the last second before I lost consciousness, I thought I heard a strange, strangled sound escape Kians throat. It was a sound of fear, as if the perfectly logical world he had built for himself had just shattered into a million pieces.

2
The sharp smell of antiseptic forced my eyes open.
Another white ceiling.
Still not dead.
I laughed, but tears slid from the corners of my smile, tasting of salt and bitterness. I was so close. I almost made it home for my moms birthday dinner. The thought made me laugh harder, my shoulders shaking.
I sat up abruptly, still laughing, and pulled the IV needle from the back of my hand. A single, perfect bead of blood welled up, shockingly red.
Barefoot, I padded over to the window.
The twenty-eighth floor. Surely, I wouldnt fail this time.
But the handle had been removed, and the glass was covered with a thick, shatterproof film.
Kian had turned this room into my cage.
The smile froze on my face.
The door opened and Kian walked in, flanked by two bodyguards. He had changed his clothes, but the oppressive aura was the same. His eyes fell on the blood on my hand, then to my position by the window, and his expression turned to ice.
Aria. Are you done?
He tossed a file onto the table. The doctor says youre suffering from long-term malnutrition and severe depression.
Is this your new strategy for gaining sympathy? Testing my limits with self-harm?
Mr. Archer, I used his most formal title, is a person happily preparing to go home just another line of code for you to debug?
His expression flickered. A cold smirk replaced it. Your behavior is illogical. Until I figure out what it is you truly want, youre not going anywhere.
He stepped closer, looming over me. Today is the most important day for Zoey and Danny after their announcement. I dont want her seeing any trashy headlines.
She suffered for twenty years before she was found. She doesnt need you causing her more pain.
He was afraid Id die at an inconvenient time and spoil Zoeys big day.
He turned and left. The door clicked shut, locked.
I dont know how much time passed before it opened again.
It was my brothermy adoptive brotherEthan Sterling.
He had the same cold, detached look, his eyes sharp behind gold-rimmed glasses.
Kian said you were sick, he stated, placing a thermal flask on the nightstand. His voice was flat. Zoey is very worried about you. She couldnt sleep all night. She asked me to come and check on you.
Zoey again.
I didnt move. I just stared at him.
My silent gaze seemed to unnerve him. He opened the flask, and the rich aroma of chicken soup filled the room.
Our cook made it. It used to be your favorite.
My stomach churned.
I remembered when Zoey first came to live with us. She was frail and sickly, and the cook made her this soup every day. Id taken one sip out of curiosity, and Ethan had snatched the bowl away, his face a cold mask. This is for Zoey. She grew up in hardship, not like you. Cant you be more considerate?
But two years ago, when our parents died in a plane crash, when the house felt like a tomb, it was him. He was the one who had clumsily tried to make me soup, coaxing me, Aria, please. Drink this. It will make the bitterness go away.
And now, he was offering me the very soup that once belonged to Zoey, the soup that had branded me inconsiderate.
I slowly sat up and took the bowl from him.
A flicker of relief, almost imperceptible, crossed his face.
I smiled at him.
And in the next second, with a slight tilt of my wrist, I sent the bowl of scalding soup crashing to the floor. It shattered into a hundred pieces.
Aria, what are you doing?!
For the first time, Ethans voice was ragged, his perpetually cool facade finally cracking.
I ignored him. While he was stunned, I bent down and picked up the sharpest shard of porcelain. I didnt say a word. I didnt threaten anyone. I simply, in front of him, drew the sharp edge across my other wrist. Not too deep, not too light.
A red line appeared, then welled up into beads of blood that began to drip, one by one, to the floor.
Brother, I said, looking up at him, guessing the smile on my face was hideous. The Sterling familys charity Im just the thief who stole someones life for twenty years. I cant accept it.
ARIA!
Ethans scream was sharper than the sound of the shattering bowl. He lunged at me, grabbing my wrist. The warm blood quickly soaked the cuff of his crisp, white shirt.

3
"Let go of me!"
"When you listened to Zoeys lies, when you thought I was targeting her at every turn, did you feel like a worthy heir to the Sterling name?" I sneered. "And now you bring me her leftover soup, pretending to care."
"Ethan, what are you so afraid of?"
"Are you afraid that if I die here, your precious, long-suffering sister will have nightmares?"
"That's not it!" Ethan's face went deathly pale.
"Believe it or not," I said, pressing the shard a little deeper, "if I bleed out here today, the Sterling Industries' stock price will get a big 'surprise' tomorrow morning."
The door opened. Kian, who must have returned at some point, walked in to this exact scene.
Me, a madwoman, with a bleeding wrist and a shard of porcelain, smiling as I faced a horrified Ethan.
Kian's face was grim, his eyes analyzing me like a program on the verge of a fatal error.
Ethan clutched my wrist, shouting at the bodyguards in the hall. "Get a doctor! Now!" He turned to Kian as if grabbing a lifeline. "Kian, don't listen to her! She's lost her mind! Ever since Zoey came back, she's been like this, always hurting herself for attention!"
Kian's brow furrowed. He glanced at my still-bleeding wrist, his voice cold. "She she almost jumped off a bridge earlier."
"It's just an act!" Ethan insisted. "I know Aria. She's terrified of death. She would never actually do it."
The flicker of doubt in Kians eyes vanished, replaced by a self-mocking certainty.
I watched them, the two of them working in concert to define my despair as a pathetic performance, and I started to laugh.
Fine. If a physical death was off the table, I would find another way home.
My fingers went slack. The porcelain shard clattered to the floor.
In the instant Ethan let out a sigh of relief, I moved like lightning, snatching the phone from his pocket.
"Aria, what are you doing?!"
I backed into a corner, my fingers flying across the screen.
His passcode. It was still my birthday.
How ironic.
I opened a live-streaming app, ignoring their wary stares, and pointed the camera at my own pale, blood-streaked face. I quickly typed in a title: Aria Sterlings Last Words: A Public Funeral.
As I was about to press 'Go Live,' a name flashed in my mind. Leo Cruz. A scholarship student my mother had sponsored, now the most fearless investigative journalist in the city.
Leo, if you're watching, help me one last time.
I hit the button.
"Hello, everyone," I said softly. "My name is Aria."
"Today, I'd like to perform something for you. It's called 'A Solo Funeral.'"
Kian's expression changed completely. He finally understood what I was doingputting myself on trial in the court of public opinion.
He lunged toward me.
But I was faster.
With my back against the sealed window, I held the phone high above my head.
"Don't come any closer," I said, smiling, waving my bloody wrist in front of the camera. The smile was probably terrifying. "One more step, and I jump."
"Twenty-eighth floor. A live-streamed suicide. That should make the headlines, don't you think?"
"It would add a nice, festive touch to Zoey and Danny's new romance, wouldn't it, Brother?"
Kian froze, his face a mask of fury.
Ethan was frantic. "Aria, what do you want?!"
"I want to prove something."
I turned the camera back to myself, watching the viewer count skyrocket. I spoke each word with chilling clarity. "I, Aria Sterling, adopted daughter of the Sterling family, hereby make my public last will and testament."
"Upon my death, all assets in my nameincluding the five percent of Sterling Industries' original shares left to me by my parents, as well as all my jewelry and real estate"
I paused, my gaze sweeping over Ethan's ashen face. "...will be donated, in their entirety, to the state."
"You all think I did this for money, right? Fine." A tear escaped, but I was still smiling. "Then I'll take the things you think I value most, and I'll destroy them, right here, in front of everyone."
"Aria, you're insane!" Ethan yelled. "Mom and Dad left that for you, to protect you!"
"Why wouldn't I dare?" My smile was tragic. "I'm dying anyway, aren't I?"
Just then, the door was thrown open with a violent crash.
Danny Vance, my newly-a-father-to-be ex-fianc, rushed in, looking like he'd run all the way here.
He was unnervingly calm. He walked toward me, pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket, and held it up.
A hospital diagnosis.
"Severe depression with suicidal tendencies."
Danny's voice was soft. "Aria, you're sick."

4
He handed the paper to Ethan and Kian.
"Zoey has been worried about your mental state for a while. A doctor prepared this preliminary diagnosis as an emergency measure."
His voice was thick with self-reproach. "The doctor said your live stream, your suicide attempts it's all because of your illness."
"Nothing you say can be taken seriously."
A single piece of paper, a single diagnosis, and all my defiance was dismissed as the ravings of a madwoman.
I thought of the time he was being trashed by the entire internet. I sold the only piece of jewelry my mother had left me and stayed up for days writing the lyrics and music for his comeback song, "Starlight."
But now, after a few tears from Zoey, who claimed she had been his silent supporter all along, he believed her. He had even accused me of stealing her work.
Danny's eyes began to redden. "Your live stream went viral."
"Zoey she saw it. And she had a complete breakdown."
"She left a note, saying it was all her fault, and then she disappeared."
"I can't find her, Aria."
In an instant, the gazes of Ethan and Kian were like daggers, piercing me once again.
"A brilliant move," Kian's voice was glacial. "Forcing her hand like that."
"Aria, how could you become this person?" Ethan's eyes were filled with disappointment.
I looked at them and finally, truly, laughed.
Zoey didn't even have to be here to turn me into the evil sister who drove the kind, gentle one away.
"Find her."
Danny's eyes locked on mine, a terrifying madness swirling in their depths. "Aria, I don't care how you do it, but you will find her and bring her back."
"Or else," he leaned in, his voice a whisper only I could hear, "I will lock you away, break your legs, and make you spend the rest of your life watching me, begging me."
I was done playing their game.
I looked up, meeting his obsessive gaze, and said calmly, "Fine."
"I'll help you find her."
They all stared, clearly not expecting me to agree so easily.
I stood up, ignoring the wound on my wrist, and walked toward them.
"The keys to Ethan's car. Give them to me."
Ethan frowned. "What do you need the car for?"
"To find her," I said. "Zoey sent me a message. A picture of herself at the edge of a cliff. She said if she doesn't hear that I'm safe within three hours, she'll jump."
"Give me three hours."
"If I can't find her, you can have my life."
Kian scoffed. "And why should we believe you?"
"You don't have to." I shrugged. "You can stand here and waste time, and wait for the police to scrape Zoey off the rocks. Or, you can take a chance."
My words hit their weak spot.
In the end, Ethan tossed me the keys.
I turned and walked out.
I settled into the driver's seat of the black Bentley, floored the accelerator, and shot out of the parking garage.
I wasn't looking for Zoey.
I knew she was probably relaxing in some five-star hotel, enjoying the show.
I drove straight for the winding mountain road that led to the cliffs outside the city.
Three hours. Enough time to get to the summit, and then send myself, and the car, into the ocean.
This time, no one would be able to save me.
I cranked up the stereo, blasting an old rock anthem about freedom.
I'm going home.
Dad, Mom, I'm coming home.
The end of the road was the cliff's edge.
My foot pressed the accelerator to the floor.
At the same time, in another car, Kian watched the red dot representing me race towards the cliff on his monitor, his eyes turning bloodshot. He activated his emergency comms, his voice a raw scream. "JAX! SHE'S GOING OVER! I'VE SENT YOU THE LOCATION! YOU'RE THE ONLY ONE CLOSE ENOUGH! WHATEVER IT TAKES, STOP HER!"
Just as the car was about to launch over the guardrail
CRUNCH!
A black, military-grade SUV materialized out of nowhere, slamming into the front of my car with the suicidal force of a missile.

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