Chapter 2Reborn To Ruin My Ex And His Muse
About 1,992 characters (~359 words) — this is Chapter 2, the last of the 2 free chapters on EditWrx Reads.
On the drive home, my phone buzzed.
Adrian: Babe, Sophie won the grant! Taking her out for drinks to celebrate. Don’t wait up.
Adrian and Sophie. They shared a history I couldn’t touch—sandbox friends, secrets, a bond forged in their quaint hometown.
I used to edit Sophie’s work at Adrian’s request. It was amateurish, derivative. When I gave notes, she’d cry, and Adrian would accuse me of being threatened by her "raw potential." I eventually stopped trying.
In my last life, Adrian had been the one to twist the knife. He went on Good Morning America with timestamps and metadata, claiming I had access to Sophie’s cloud.
It was all premeditated. Adrian had been funneling my work to her.
But right now, rage was a luxury I couldn’t afford. I needed a new script.
I packed a bag—just sweats and my laptop—and drove three hours to my cabin in Idyllwild. I bought this place last year as a sanctuary. In the other timeline, the bank seized it before I ever spent a night.
I locked the doors. I unplugged the router.
For seven days, I wrote like a woman possessed. I poured the grief of my death, the cold water, the betrayal, and the burning desire for rebirth into the pages.
Adrian didn’t call once. He was probably too busy toasting to their victory.
When I typed FADE OUT, I felt lightheaded. It was dark, gritty, and real.
I drove to the local library to use their secure connection and emailed the PDF to Silas.
Ten minutes later, he called.
“Maya,” he breathed, the aggression gone. “This is... visceral. You’re a witch. Come to the office tomorrow. We’re fast-tracking this.”
“I’ll be there.”
I drove back to the cabin and collapsed onto the bed, sleeping for fourteen hours straight.
I woke up to my ringtone screaming.
It was Silas. He sounded apoplectic. “What kind of game are you playing? Sophie just signed a deal with Apex for a script that is virtually identical to what you sent me!”
I sat up, the room spinning. “That’s impossible.”
“Check Twitter,” he spat. “And lose my number. We’re done.”