Reborn? Screw the Fake Lover—I'm Snagging My Arch-Rival! - Chapter 2: Chapter 2

Stella stared numbly at Chase giving Sophia mouth-to-mouth by the pool, icy water dripping from her hair—but it was nothing compared to the chill in her heart.
In her past life, Chase had been cold and pristine, washing his hands repeatedly after any contact with her. She'd thought it was just his germaphobia, that he simply wasn't into women, that she could slowly warm his heart.
But now she knew—he just already had someone he loved.
And she had never been in his line of sight.
Stella used every ounce of strength to crawl out of the pool, her nails digging into the concrete.
She couldn't die.
She still had to marry Ryder.
Nearby, Chase finally ended that long "mouth-to-mouth," and Sophia coughed softly before slowly opening her eyes.
"Sophia!" Chase looked relieved as he scooped her up. "I'm taking you to the hospital."
Then he turned and left without so much as a glance at the soaking wet Stella.
Meanwhile, the other three finally snapped back to reality and noticed Stella pulling herself from the pool.
"Stella!"
Marcus rushed over first, with Preston and Damien close behind—the three men together like a perfectly composed magazine spread.
"Stella, are you okay?" Marcus reached out to help her. "The situation was so urgent just now, we..."
"Mistook Sophia for you," Preston quickly added.
Damien handed her a towel: "Right, the water was too murky, we got confused."
Stella took the towel, her fingertips ice-cold.
What a ridiculous excuse.
The pool was crystal clear, Sophia wore white while she wore red—how could they possibly mix them up?
"Let's get you to the hospital for a checkup," Marcus said gently. "We'll come with you."
Stella looked up and saw barely concealed urgency in their eyes.
They didn't want to accompany her—they were desperate for an excuse to see Sophia.
"No need." She threw the towel back. "I'm fine."
"How can you be fine!" Preston frowned. "You're soaked through—what if you catch something..."
"If you wanna go to the hospital," Stella cut him off, "go by yourselves."
The three exchanged glances.
"Why would we go? We're not hurt," Damien said again. "Don't be mad, okay? We really did mistake you for her just now. We'll skip work these next few days and stay with you as an apology."
Stella said nothing and walked away.
Her wet clothes clung to her body, each step heavy, but she kept her spine straight and didn't look back.
Over the next few days, the three men tried every trick to win Stella over.
Marcus sent the latest haute couture from Paris Fashion Week, Preston air-shipped a rare pink diamond necklace, and Damien straight-up gifted her a limited edition sports car.
"Stella, there's an auction tonight," Marcus gently offered her an invitation. "Wanna go clear your head?"
Stella looked at their eager faces and smirked inwardly.
The auction hall was magnificent, crystal chandeliers illuminating the entire space like daylight.
Stella entered in heels and a champagne-colored gown that hugged her curves, but froze the next second—
In the VIP section, Chase was carefully helping Sophia to her seat.
The man wore an impeccably tailored black suit that emphasized his tall, lean frame. Those phoenix eyes that once mesmerized her now overflowed with tenderness for the woman beside him.
Seeing Stella, Chase frowned and actually approached her.
His voice was cold as a business transaction: "Your mother mentioned choosing a fiancé?"
Stella met his distant gaze.
"I know you like me," he said without mercy. "But I don't like you, so don't choose me."
Then he turned and left without another word, carefully shielding Sophia like she was precious treasure.
"Stella, don't be upset," Marcus immediately came over, his slender fingers gently touching her shoulder. "Chase has no taste—doesn't mean nobody appreciates you."
Preston adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, his peach blossom eyes soft with a gentle smile: "Exactly. All three of us like you and will always be on your side."
Damien looked worried as he grabbed champagne from a passing waiter: "Princess, have a drink. Don't think about unhappy stuff."
Stella looked at these three men whose eyes supposedly held "love" for her and gave a self-mocking smile. She took the champagne, her fingertips ice-cold.
"I'm fine," she said softly, her voice completely flat.
"But seriously," Marcus leaned close, his warm breath tickling her ear, "since you chased Ryder off to another country, it's down to just the four of us now. So who's it gonna be your fiancé? We're all curious as hell."
Stella was about to say "I don't want any of you," but it came out as: "You'll find out soon enough."
That one sentence made everyone squirm.
While Stella just smiled, thinking that in her past life she'd suffered twenty years of torture—they could handle a few days of anxiety.
After the auction officially began, the three kept asking what she liked, but she just shook her head.
Meanwhile, Chase bought everything Sophia looked at—diamond necklaces, antique pocket watches, jade bracelets...
Stella glanced over but no longer felt the heartbreak of her past life.
She watched ahead with complete detachment.
Until the final lot appeared. When the auctioneer lifted the red silk, Stella's pupils contracted sharply.