Revenge After Death

It was Steve, the psycho from the orphanage!

He was the murderer who turned himself in for killing me!

What was he doing here?

He gaped at me for a long time too.

I came to a realization that I was naked. I picked up a towel from the floor and reached for my phone to call the police.

Maybe it was due to fear, but my body wouldn’t stop shaking. I fumbled for my phone in this unfamiliar environment but couldn’t find it. I was like I was having a nightmare and was trying to escape with all my might, but I was powerless.

Kneeling on the floor, I stared at myself in the mirror. There was a 70% resemblance with my own face.

I raised my hand fearfully and touched that face in confusion.

This couldn’t be. I was already dead. Who was this person in the mirror?

After a while, my rapid breathing slowed down. Only then did I realize that I had been reborn. I was reborn into a complete stranger’s body!

After a long bout of silence, I tentatively spoke up, “You…”

“You just want a child. You just want to give birth to a Lincoln… You’ll get what you want. If you don’t want to die, then get out!” He snarled angrily.

I could see the hidden murderous intent in his eyes.

He wanted to kill me!

As I thought… A murderer was still a murderer. He couldn’t hide the resentment and murderous

intent in him.

I looked at him warily. In a panic, I grabbed the lamp next to the bed so that I could fight back at any

time.

I didn’t have a phone to call the police. Not to mention, I was very frightened by my current predicament. I didn’t know who I was, much less why I was sleeping in the same bed as a murderer!

Probably noticing my desire to kill him in my eyes, Steve’s gaze also darkened.

We were like two beasts that were about to bite each other at any time. Neither party dared to let their guard down.

Just as I forced myself to calm down to analyze myrroundings, the door opened. A middle–aged man in a wheelchair was pushed in.

“Ms. Stephany Larson, you were screaming a lot last night.” The man grinned. His expression looked like he was up to no good.

“Mr. Ignatius agrees to a union between the Larson family and the Lincoln family. The funds he to your family are for you to give birth to a healthy heir to the Lincoln family, not for you to enjoy. yourself!”

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I frowned in confusion.

Stephany Larson? The Larson family?

The Lincoln family? A union?

Give birth to an heir?

The middle–aged man left the room. I quickly followed him so that I could leave, but the nanny stopped me. “Let me out! Who are you to keep me here!”

“Ms. Larson, your duty is to birth an heir for the Lincoln family in order to save your family. In order to ensure that you successfully get pregnant during your ovulation phase this cycle, please hold on a little longer.”

With that, she shut the door.

“Let me out!” I was mad and scared at the same time. I was desperate to find out the situation I was in.

Why w

was I reduced to a baby maker for this murderer?

“You’re so noisy,” Steve said hoarsely, seemingly annoyed. He was looking for something. Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

“Where is it?” He wasn’t wearing anything, and he seemed to be enraged.

I was struck by his rage. It made me reevaluate this psycho.

Before this, I always saw him in ill–fitting shirts and baggy pants that didn’t cover his ankles. I never imagined… that he could look so beautiful.

Objectively speaking, whether it was his body or his face, he was very gootl–looking… If I hadn’t died once before, I would’ve had a hard time linking him to the person who killed me ruthlessly.

“I’m asking you… Where is it?” He rushed over. He lost control and grabbed my throat.

At that moment, he wanted to kill me.

He seemed to be furious at me for sleeping with him and for moving his things.

A feeling of suffocation overcame me, and the dark veil of death shrouded me once again. I hit him forcefully, subconsciously aiming for his neck.

“Stephie, if you run into a bad guy next time, hit him in the throat. This can make your opponent lose their breath, and you’ll have a chance to run away.

All of a sudden, my head felt like it was splitting apart. Who was teaching me self–defense?