After Rebirth, I Became My Ex's Aunt-in-Law-Chapter 163: Doomscrolling to the Tune of a Factory Reset
The Vanity Fair exclusive dropped while they were in the Aston Martin, halfway to St. Jude’s Hospital.
It hit the internet like a digital meteor.
Zoe Chen sat in the passenger seat, the blue light of her iPhone illuminating her horrified expression as she scrolled through the immediate, chaotic fallout on Instagram.
"I hate this generation," Zoe announced to the quiet cabin, aggressively swiping her thumb across the screen. "I genuinely despise the human race. You literally just poured your bleeding heart out to the world, and they are turning it into a circus."
Damien kept his eyes on the road, one hand loosely gripping the leather steering wheel. His suit jacket was tossed in the back, his tie loosened.
"Read them," Damien said, looking out the windshield at the passing city lights. His tone was surprisingly calm.
"Okay, well, the thirsty comments are out of control," Zoe grimaced. "Listen to this one: @DemonKingStan says, ’If he’s a red flag, I am legally colorblind. He can oppress me anytime.’ And @CorporateBaddie commented, ’The way he said ’my queen’ just made me ovulate in the breakroom.’"
"There’s more," Zoe continued, scrolling faster. "@PopCultureJunkie wrote, ’The way he looked at the camera?! I’m literally sobbing. That is a man who would commit serious crimes for his wife.’ And @TrueCrimeGirlie says, ’The fanboy theory actually makes sense. Elysium has blind spots. Justice for Aria!’"
"Wait, look at this," Zoe gasped, her thumb freezing over the screen. "Bella actually had the audacity to comment from her verified account."
Zoe read it out loud, her voice dripping with disgust. "@RealBellaVale: ’We all know the truth about how toxic they both are behind closed doors. Don’t believe the PR machine. #PrayForAria’. She’s getting absolutely dragged in the replies, though. The ratio is beautiful."
Damien didn’t even blink. He had long ago accepted that the internet was a feral wasteland.
"But then," Zoe continued, her voice rising in pitch, "you have the conspiracy theorists! A YouTuber named TruthSeeker99 just posted a forty-minute video essay analyzing your micro-expressions during the interview. Forty minutes! The video has been out for ten! How did they even edit that fast?!"
She read another comment. "’It’s giving Stockholm Syndrome. It’s a PR stunt! Free my girl Aria!’"
Zoe groaned, letting her head thunk back against the leather headrest. "The interview wasn’t enough. It didn’t magically fix everything. The timeline is split in half. By tomorrow morning, there are going to be ten thousand video essays dissecting every single word you said. I am so defeated."
"Give it time, Ms. Chen," Damien said smoothly, his golden eyes reflecting the passing streetlights. "The internet’s attention span is shorter than a goldfish’s. Let them dissect it. Let them argue. They’ll get bored and move on to a new scandal by Tuesday."
"But I want them to get bored now!" Zoe whined, locking her phone. "I want to sleep for a week!"
A few seconds later, the screen of Zoe’s phone lit up to an incoming call screen. The caller ID flashed brightly in the dark cabin: Kai Vane.
Zoe’s breath hitched. She quickly fumbled with the device, her thumb aggressively hitting the red ’decline’ button to send the call straight to voicemail. She shoved the phone face-down into her lap, as she stared out the window, pretending it never happened.
Damien caught the entire exchange in his peripheral vision. He saw the caller ID. But he kept his mouth shut, his eyes focused strictly on the taillights ahead. He had no interest in Kai’s chaotic love life.
The Aston Martin pulled into the secure, underground parking structure of St. Jude’s, gliding to a halt near the private VIP elevators.
The two of them stepped out into the chilly concrete garage and took the lift up to the fourth floor.
When the metal doors slid open to the sterile, brightly lit ICU corridor, Damien stopped walking. He gestured toward a brightly lit vending machine tucked into an alcove near the nurses’ station.
"Go ahead," Damien told Zoe, rolling his shoulders to ease the stiffness. "I need a black coffee."
She walked down the quiet, beige hallway. The two massive private military contractors stationed outside ICU Room 1 recognized her instantly. They stepped aside, one of them reaching out to pull the heavy, frosted glass door open for her.
Zoe stepped inside, her eyes dropping to her phone to check her emails one last time.
"Okay, so the situation is currently a raging dumpster fire," Zoe started muttering to herself. "But I think—"
Zoe looked up.
The words died in her throat. Her phone slipped from her fingers, hitting the floor with a sharp clack.
Aria wasn’t lying down.
She was sitting upright in the hospital bed.
The nasal cannula was still resting against her cheeks, the IV line still taped to her pale hand, but her eyes were wide open.
Zoe froze perfectly still. Her heart executed a violent, joyous backflip in her chest.
"Aria?" Zoe gasped, a hot wave of happy tears instantly flooding her eyes.
Aria slowly turned her head toward the door.
For a fraction of a second, as the door had opened, Aria’s face had lit up. There had been a distinct, expectant spark in her emerald eyes—like she had been waiting for a very specific face.
But the moment her eyes landed on Zoe, the spark vanished.
Aria’s expression dropped into an absolute, terrifyingly blank mask.
"Oh my god, you’re awake!" Zoe sobbed, letting out a wet, hysterical laugh as she rushed toward the bed. "Don’t look so disappointed! He’s right behind me, he’s just getting a snack from the vending machine!"
Zoe didn’t hesitate. She threw herself over the edge of the mattress, wrapping her arms tightly around Aria’s shoulders, burying her face into her best friend’s hospital gown.
"I was so scared," Zoe wept, squeezing her tight. "I thought you were never going to wake up."
But Aria didn’t hug her back.
She just sat there, entirely limp and rigid, letting Zoe crush her in a one-sided embrace.
Zoe felt the stiffness. The joy in her chest faltered, replaced by a sudden, creeping chill.
She pulled back slowly, sniffing, and looked at Aria’s face.
Aria was staring at her.
There was no recognition in her emerald eyes.
There was just... nothing.
It was completely flat. She looked at Zoe the way a person looks at a blank wall.
Aria tilted her head a fraction of an inch.
"Who are you?" Aria asked.
