Rebirth: A Second chance at life-Chapter 88

Aurora sat by the window of her room, her sharp eyes fixed on the moonlight that spilled across the floor like melted silver.

The glow was soft, almost haunting, and her reflection shimmered faintly on the glass. Her face was calm, composed—but inside, her thoughts ran wild.

Her mind was a storm, full of fragmented memories, suspicions, and truths that didn’t quite fit together.

She leaned forward slightly, resting her elbow on the windowsill as her gaze darkened.

Being quick-witted, she was already starting to connect the pieces—what if the real Aurora, the original host of this body, had been Helen’s real granddaughter?

At first, she had assumed that if Lily wasn’t connected to her, then Helen wouldn’t be either, and that thought had stung more than she cared to admit.

Helen had been truly kind to the original Aurora, and if it turned out that Helen was indeed the original Aurora’s grandmother, it would bring justice to both Helen and the girl whose life had been filled with pain.

She wasn’t sure—not yet—but she would find out tomorrow.

And if, by any chance, Aurora was truly Helen’s granddaughter, then what happened to her parents? Where were they now?

And the most important question—did Aurora’s mother know about Helen?

And what about herself? Because as Luna, she had the exact same tattoo.

If in her past life Luna hadn’t known about her parents, she might have suspected that she was connected to Aurora and Helen.

After Leonardo saved her, he tried to search for her parents himself, but found no leads.

Years later, when Luna had gained knowledge and capability, she took the search into her own hands.

Even though Leonardo and others loved her dearly, the love from one’s real parents was something entirely different.

She poured all her time and energy into the search, driven by that longing—but reality hit harder than she ever expected.

By the time she found out who they were, her parents were already dead—killed in some accident. But that wasn’t the worst part.

The cruelest truth was that they had been the ones to sell her to the traffickers in the first place.

That was how she ended up in that filthy, shadowed orphanage. Leonardo, trying to protect her hope, even suggested a DNA test—yet that too came back positive.

Luna didn’t stop there. She chased down every record, every scrap of verification, hoping for an error in the data.

A mistake. Anything. She didn’t want to believe her parents could be so heartless. But in the end, the truth was undeniable—and it broke her.

So now when she got to know about the shared birthmarks, She had thought it merely a quirk of destiny—that somehow, her soul had been reborn in a body that bore an identical mark. A cosmic joke, perhaps.

Look into the Queen’s Group, she typed back to Jeremiah, her voice low and tight. And find out what connection Helen has to them.

Setting the tablet aside, she leaned back into the pillows. The moonlight filtered in through the curtains, painting her skin in silver shadows.

She closed her eyes. Her thoughts refused to settle, coiling like serpents in her chest—but exhaustion was stronger.

It crept into her limbs, heavy and dark, and eventually, it dragged her into sleep.

The next morning, Aurora rose before dawn. The sky was still a faint shade of purple, the stars fading slowly as the first traces of sunlight kissed the horizon.

She stood in the private training room Bishop had arranged, her posture still and controlled.

The air was crisp, her breath even as she moved into a set of warm-ups. Her body flowed through each form with precision—fists slicing the air, legs moving in smooth, powerful kicks.

Sweat formed on her brow, but her expression never wavered.

Each strike helped to clear her head, push the chaos away, center her.

Once finished, she headed into the shower and let the cold water run down her skin like ice. It sharpened her thoughts. She stepped out, dried off, and dressed without hesitation.

Her outfit was sharp—tailored black blouse, high-waisted trousers, and a thin leather belt. Minimalist gold studs in her ears.

Her hair was swept into a sleek bun, a few loose strands framing her face. Her makeup was light but striking, accentuating her sculpted cheekbones and almond eyes.

She grabbed her keys and strode confidently to her sleek black Aston Martin. The engine purred to life, and with a low growl, she tore through the city streets.

Today was the results day.

She parked in front of Summer High School, her expression unreadable as always, and stepped out. Immediately, heads turned.

Students paused mid-conversation, their laughter faltering. Whispers broke out like ripples across a pond.

"Isn’t that... Aurora?"

"She actually came back?"

"What nerve."

From a few steps away, Briana stood in her pristine white uniform, her glossy blonde hair glinting under the sun.

Her manicured fingers gripped the strap of her designer bag as her sharp blue eyes narrowed on Aurora.

"Seriously?" Briana scoffed, loud enough for her little group of sidekicks to hear. "Look who’s back—our school’s very own dropout princess."

The girls tittered with cruel delight.

Briana smirked. "This school must be scraping the bottom of the barrel now. First, she fails everything, disappears, and now she waltzes in like she owns the place? Has Principal Harrison finally gone senile?"

Her tone dripped with venom as she added, "I’m going to call Daddy. Summer High’s reputation is going to rot if they let nobodies like her keep showing up."

It wasn’t an unusual display—Briana had always been a loyal follower of Veronica, and anyone who dared to shine brighter than her queen bee suffered the consequences.

And now that Veronica’s influence had been slightly shaken with recent events, Briana’s claws came out sharper than ever.

The venom in their voices didn’t faze Aurora. Not anymore. She had survived too much, died once, and come back with a purpose heavier than petty insults.

Her heels clicked against the marble flooring as she walked past them without a glance, her head high, posture regal.

Every whispered word behind her was ignored.

She had no interest in insects buzzing behind her back.

Aurora entered the school building and made her way directly to the principal’s office.

The staff inside paused when they saw her, surprised by her quiet intensity. Even the receptionist, who usually prided herself on being curt, offered a tentative nod and buzzed her in.