After Rebirth, I Became My Ex's Aunt-in-Law-Chapter 59: The Ex-Fiancé’s Existential Crisis

Night on Jaguar Ridge was usually a symphony of insects and distant thunder, but tonight, the loudest sound was the grinding of Lucas Sinclair’s teeth.

He sat by the fire, staring into the flames. He was clean(ish), thanks to the wet-wipe bath he’d managed to take, but he felt dirtier than he ever had in his life. The blindfold challenge had shaken him—not just the fear of falling, but the terrifying realization that for twenty minutes, he had completely trusted the woman he had betrayed.

He looked across the fire.

Aria was sitting on her log throne, sharpening her machete with a smooth, rhythmic rasp. The firelight danced on her rose-gold hair, making her look like a warrior queen from a fantasy novel. She looked powerful. Lethal. And she hadn’t looked at him once since they stepped off the cliff.

Then he looked to his left.

Bella was sitting in the dirt, picking dried mud out of her toenails. Her hair was a bird’s nest. She was muttering under her breath about suing the network, suing Leo, and suing the wind for blowing the wrong way.

’I traded that,’ Lucas thought, his eyes lingering on Aria’s regal silhouette. He glanced back at the miserable Bella. ’For this?’

He opened his mouth to speak, to say... something. Thank you? I’m sorry? Why are you so good at this?

But before he could make a sound, the drone buzzed overhead.

"Dinner time," Damien’s voice announced, smooth and god-like from the speakers.

Two crates lowered from the sky.

One was a small, sad cardboard box. The other was a wicker picnic basket that smelled of truffles and roast chicken.

"Team One: Bella and Leo," Damien announced. "You failed the challenge. You get the ’Loser’s Rations’. Uncooked rice and a can of beans. Enjoy."

Bella let out a shriek of outrage. "Rice?! How am I supposed to cook rice? I don’t have a pot!"

"Use a rock," Damien suggested helpfully. "Or ask Lucas. He seems to have a lot of hot air tonight."

"Team Two: Aria and Lucas," the voice softened noticeably when he said Aria’s name. "You completed the course. You get the ’Winner’s Feast’."

The wicker basket landed in front of Aria.

She opened it. Inside was a feast: Roast chicken, truffle mashed potatoes, a bottle of sparkling water, and—because Damien was petty—a single chocolate lava cake.

Lucas reached for a drumstick, salivating.

Aria slapped his hand away.

"Ah!" Lucas recoiled. "What? We won! We’re a team!"

"I won," Aria corrected. "You were luggage. I carried you across that cliff with my voice. Therefore, I tax the winnings."

She took the chicken, the potatoes, and the cake. She left him the sparkling water and a side salad.

"Hey!" Lucas protested. "That’s not fair!"

"Life isn’t fair, Nephew," Aria said, taking a bite of chicken. "Ask Bella. She’s eating raw beans."

Bella was indeed trying to open the can of beans with a sharp rock, looking murderous. Leo, meanwhile, had wandered over to Aria.

"Sister Aria?" Leo asked, giving her his best puppy eyes. "I’m hungry. And I think I ate a bug earlier."

Aria sighed. She couldn’t resist the puppy eyes. She tore a leg off the chicken and handed it to Leo.

"Here. Don’t tell anyone."

"I love you!" Leo whispered, scampering back to his tent to eat in secret.

Lucas stared at his salad. He looked at Aria feeding Leo. He looked at the chocolate cake. The unfairness of it burned, but beneath that was a deeper ache. Nostalgia.

"Aria," Lucas said quietly. "Do you remember our anniversary? The first one?"

Aria didn’t pause in her eating. "The one where you forgot, showed up three hours late, and gave me a gift card to a gym because you said I needed to ’tone up’?"

Lucas winced. "I... I was young. Stupid."

"You were twenty," Aria said. "And you were an ass."

"I’m different now," Lucas pleaded. "This island... it’s changing me. I see things clearly now. Bella isn’t who I thought she was. She’s selfish. She pushed Leo off the cliff!"

"She’s exactly who she’s always been," Aria said coldly. "You were just too busy looking at her cleavage to notice the knife in her hand."

She finished her cake, wiping chocolate from her lip.

"Don’t try to redeem yourself to me, Lucas. I don’t care. Save your apologies for the mirror."

She stood up, grabbing her secure phone.

"I’m going to bed. Enjoy your salad."

She zipped herself into her tent, leaving Lucas alone with his greens and his regret.

Inside the tent, Aria dialed the number.

"Enjoying the show?" she asked.

"Immensely," Damien’s voice replied. "Although I didn’t appreciate you giving the chicken leg to the boy toy."

"Leo is harmless," Aria laughed. "He’s a golden retriever in human form."

"He’s male," Damien growled. "Next time, give him the beans."

"Possessive," Aria teased. "Any news from Paris?"

The line went quiet for a second, the playful tone shifting to something cooler, more calculated.

"Lydia is busy," Damien said. "She was photographed at the Louvre charity gala tonight. She’s wearing black. Playing the grieving wife who was ’blind’ to her husband’s financial crimes."

"Smart," Aria murmured. "She’s building a shield of sympathy. If I attack her now, I look like the bully kicking a woman who’s down."

"Exactly," Damien said. "She gave an interview to Le Monde. She called you ’troubled’ and said she prays for your mental health every day."

Aria rolled her eyes. "She prays for my car brakes to fail."

"Let her talk," Damien said. "Let her build her tower. It just means the fall will be longer when we kick out the foundation. Julian is tracking her expenses. She’s burning through favors to stay in those hotels. She’ll make a mistake."

"I hate waiting," Aria admitted.

"Good things come to those who wait," Damien’s voice dropped to a husky whisper. "Like the massage I’m going to give you when you get off this island."

Aria felt a blush heat her cheeks. "Is that a medical offer, Mr. Sinclair?"

"It’s a marital obligation," he corrected. "Get some sleep, Mrs. Sinclair. Tomorrow is the final challenge."

"Goodnight, Damien."

Aria hung up, the screen going dark. She didn’t put the phone back in her bag immediately. Instead, she held it against her chest, feeling the warmth of the battery seeping through her shirt.

Outside, a twig snapped, followed by a loud, miserable slap of flesh against skin.

"Ouch! Another one!" Bella whined from the darkness.

Aria smiled into her pillow. Let them feed the mosquitoes. She had a King to dream about, and a very specific appointment to keep once this island was behind her. She closed her eyes, letting the rhythmic chirping of the jungle lull her into a deep, dreamless sleep. Tomorrow was the finale, and she intended to be well-rested for her coronation.