Reborn In a Murderer’s Embrace

It was only later that I learned why he had left me for dead at the hotel that night. Melody’s father had fallen ill, suffering a stroke during a bout of heavy drinking. The medical bills for his treatment and rehabilitation had piled up into a mountain of debt. All rights © NôvelDrama.Org.

Dexter, who demanded nothing but the best, had spared no expense: a private room, top–notch nurses, an elite team of doctors, and the most advanced rehabilitation care.

He could effortlessly drop tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands, even millions on Melody… But when it came to me, his stinginess knew no bounds.

Melody took for granted all the privileges he lavished upon her, while I was shackled with a burdensome debt.

I owed him a life debt, the intact remains of my parents, and a sum of money and gratitude I could never repay in this lifetime. For a long while, I confused gratitude and guilt with affection. I couldn’t tell them apart, nor could I separate them.

Sometimes I wondered, did I ever truly love Dexter? And what exactly did I love about him?

Was it the moment he saved me, or the way he risked everything to pull my parents‘ bodies. from the wreckage?

Did I love the look of concern and fear of losing me in his eyes as the car burst into flames?

I guess I was just fooling myself. Back then, I believed Dexter cared for me. I thought he might have loved me too, but it was all an illusion.

Even my love for him now felt like a distant, long–forgotten mirage.

“Phoebe, how can you have the gall to stick around the Fitzgeralds‘ like a bad penny? You were already an adult when you entered the Fitzgerald household. Have you no shame? You’re just hovering around to worm your way into Dexter’s life, aren’t you?” Melody had sneered at me on the day she took a tumble down the stairs, just as I was discharged from the hospital.

Hailey had left for Harbor City because Dexter’s father was chronically ill, always convalescing there. With her gone for half a year, I felt vulnerable. Without Hailey, there was no one to shield

1. me.

In her absence, Dexter would become even more unrestrained with me.

I’d thought about running away, hiding out in my dorm room, or even renting a basement flat. I didn’t care where, as long as I could escape.

But each time, Dexter would find me with chilling precision, hauling me back to face his cold interrogations about when I planned to stop my charade.

“Phoebe, playing the victim can only get you so far,” Melody had called out from the top of the stairs, her voice dripping with mockery. “Do you know what people outside say about you?

15:02

They say you’re a jinx, that you brought death to your own parents, and now you’ve cursed Dexter’s father with chronic illness. What’s the point of someone like you even being alive?”

“Shut up!” I snapped, losing control as her words cut deep.

That day was the anniversary of my parents‘ passing.

In the first couple of years at the Fitzgerald residence, Dexter remembered the date. But eventually, he forgot.

“If I were you, I’d just die and be done with it,” Serena sneered from below, as Dexter’s fair–weather friends laughed at my misery. They never saw me as a human being.

“Dexter’s not back yet. Phoebe, I hear you’re pretty desperate for a man, huh? Come on down, and let’s have some fun while Dexter’s away.”

Their vile words echoed around me like a curse, sending shivers down my spine.

“Come on, come down with me,” Melody said, grabbing my wrist and trying to pull me down the

stairs.

I retreated in fear, and as I struggled, I watched with horror as Melody purposefully loosened her grip, flashed me a cold smile, and tumbled down the stairs.

Everyone gasped and stood up in shock.

I looked on in terror at Melody, lying in a pool of blood at the bottom of the stairs, then turned to see Dexter standing at the door, just coming in. I shook my head frantically.

It wasn’t me. It wasn’t me.

But nobody would believe me.

Even if everyone else besides Dexter saw that it wasn’t my fault, they would never speak up for

1. me.

“Phoebe! How could you be so vile!” Serena rushed at me, slapping me hard across the face, then pummeling me with her fists and feet.

I curled up in the corner, cradling my head, not daring to move an inch..

“It wasn’t me…”

It really wasn’t me.