Reborn To Reclaim My Stolen Triplets

The drugs barely touched her. Through the thin haze, Gisele Beaumont felt the blade bite into her belly—a ripping, white-hot line that made her think, for one blinding second, that her body was being torn in half. Then, cutting through the fog, came a sound: tiny, thin, mewling cries. One. A second. Then a third. Triplets. Her chest sagged, everything inside her going loose with relief—until a cold fist closed around her stomach.

A figure in scrubs leaned in. Kasey Mack’s eyes showed above the mask, and they weren’t soft with a friend’s worry. They crinkled at the corners, bright with something sharp and pleased.

Her whisper slid out, wet and close, meant for no one else. “Thank you for the gift, Gisele. As of tonight, I’m the woman who saved Caden. And you… you and your bastards are going to vanish off the face of the earth.”

The words floated through the drug-muffled noise in Gisele’s head, not quite landing.

Kasey bent lower, her voice thinning to a needle. “Caden’s kill order is already live. His men are right outside that door. You won’t walk out of here alive.”

Bastards.

That one word punched through everything—the medicine, the pain, the fog. It wasn’t the threat to her own life that did it. It was the ugly name thrown at her children. Something hot and wild ripped through her chest, shoving the physical agony aside so hard her vision sharpened. Her eyes snapped open, the blurry confusion gone, replaced by a cold, clear focus.

A raw sound tore out of her throat. Her hand shot sideways, fingers closing around the cold metal of a blade on the nearby tray. In one jerky, desperate move, she had the edge pressed against the soft flesh of a nurse’s throat.

The nurse went rigid, a sob catching in her chest.

“Don’t move.” Gisele’s voice scraped out, ragged and barely there. The room locked up. Kasey and the other staff stood frozen, staring at the sudden, savage violence from a woman who’d been half-dead seconds before.

“Push them to me.” Gisele’s eyes cut to the two nearest incubators. “Now.”

The nurse’s face was wet, her movements jerky as she shoved the units across the tile.

Gisele’s gaze flicked to Kasey. “Take one more step, and I’ll give you a scar to match the one you gave me.”

Kasey, who’d built her whole life on a sweet smile, saw the unfiltered wildness in Gisele’s eyes and stumbled back a step.

From beyond the operating room door came a new sound—heavy, even footsteps closing in with no hurry and no hesitation. Then a voice, low and flat as a blade on ice.

“I want her alive. If you can’t manage that, bring me her body.”

Caden Sterling.

The sound of his voice sent a cold spike straight through Gisele’s ribs. The footsteps got louder. The door was the only way out. She had seconds.

Her eyes jumped around the room, catching on a small metal door set into the far wall—a chute for soiled linens. Her one chance.

The operating room doorknob began to turn.

Fire ripped through her abdomen. She felt the tug of stitches pulling apart, the hot wetness spreading. She didn’t stop. She lunged, wrapping her arms around the two babies, dragging them tight to her chest, and kicked the chute open. She tumbled into the dark, narrow passage, the smell of disinfectant and rot choking her.

The chute was slick and tight. She was bleeding, shaking, her body screaming. She couldn’t carry all three. The understanding hit like a fresh wound. She twisted to look back through the opening, her eyes finding the third incubator—the one farthest away. Her firstborn. Her son.

A sob cracked out of her, jagged and broken. “I’ll come back for you, baby,” she whispered into the blackness. “I promise.”

Then, with one last look that scraped everything out of her, she let herself slide, gravity pulling her and her two children into nothing.

The operating room door slammed open. Caden Sterling walked in, and the air in the room seemed to pull back from him. His eyes swept over the blood, the shaking staff, the open chute, and landed on the lone incubator.

He crossed to it, his face a cold mask. This was the child of the woman who’d made a fool of him. A white-hot urge surged through him—an urge to crush it, to wipe every trace of her from his life.

He looked down. Inside was a tiny, wrinkled infant. The features were still soft and unfinished, but even now, Caden could see a shadow of his own face in the line of the brow, the shape of the nose. Unmistakable. Infuriating.

Rage coiled in his stomach. He lifted a hand, long fingers poised above the fragile chest, ready to press down and snuff out this breathing reminder of his humiliation.

Then a tiny hand shot up and wrapped around his index finger.

Caden froze.

The grip was nothing—feather-light. But it sent a jolt through him, something so foreign and so strong that his pulse stuttered. He stared at the small fingers curled around his. The fury that had filled him cracked, and something he couldn’t name pushed in through the break.

He stood there, the world shrinking to that single point of contact. Finally, he let out a long, rough breath. Slowly, he worked his finger free and, with an awkward, hesitant motion, lifted the baby from the incubator.

He turned to his subordinate, voice flat. “Clean this up. The official story is she died from complications. Guilt over what she did.”

A deep rumble shook the building. Then came the roar of an explosion. The clinic’s gas lines—a contingency Gisele had arranged weeks ago—had just been triggered by her getaway driver.

Flames swallowed everything. Any proof that Gisele Beaumont had ever been there turned to ash. To the world, she was dead.

—

Six years later.

John F. Kennedy International Airport, New York.

A woman moved through the arrivals hall with a cool, easy stride, pushing a luggage cart. Dark sunglasses hid her eyes. Beside her, trotting to keep up, were two five-year-olds. The boy had a baseball cap pulled low, his small face set in a serious expression that already echoed a man he’d never met. The girl clutched a crystal ball against her chest, her sweet, shy face not quite hiding the sharp watchfulness in her eyes.

This was Gisele. The scars on her face were gone, replaced by smooth skin and a resolve that had hardened over six years. She was back. Back for her son, Rhys. And back for a cure for her daughter, Gia, whose condition could only be treated with something developed in one place: Sterling Industries.

Her first move was clear. Get inside Sterling Research Institute, under the name Thea.

As they neared the exit, a commotion broke from the VIP channel. A tall man, broad-shouldered and surrounded by a tight wall of bodyguards, cut through the terminal. He didn’t just walk—he commanded the space around him, making people step back without a word.

Caden Sterling.

Clinging to his arm, smiling for the cameras, was Kasey Mack, now a famous actress.

Gisele’s son, Leo, looked up. His eyes went wide as he took in Caden’s face. He tugged his mother’s sleeve. “Mom, that man… he looks just like me.”

Without thinking, Gisele reached down and tugged Leo’s cap lower, shielding his face. She shifted her body, blocking Gia from view. “Don’t look,” she whispered, her voice tight.

Across the way, Kasey’s gaze swept the crowd. For one beat, her eyes met Gisele’s. The practiced smile on Kasey’s face wobbled. Her pupils shrank—pure shock, then terror. She knew.

Gisele took off her sunglasses, slow. She held Kasey’s terrified stare and let a cold smile spread across her lips. Not a warm smile. A promise.

Kasey knew her secret. But Gisele knew Kasey’s.

The game had just begun.