From Mob Princess to Mugshot Photographer novel Chapter 87

**Storm Behind Sleeps by George Orwell 87**

**Chapter 1**

The morning sun struggled to pierce through the heavy gray clouds that loomed over the cemetery, casting a somber light on the ground where my husband had chosen to linger, trailing behind my adversary—the woman who had entwined herself into the very fabric of our lives, even beyond the grave. It was the day following her death, and he seemed inexplicably drawn to her final resting place, as if an unseen force had tethered him to her grave, a connection that had ultimately unraveled the tapestry of our existence.

Before he departed this world, he had left behind a note—a suicide letter, no less—promising that he would seek redemption in a future life. The very notion felt like a cruel mockery, a jest played at the expense of my shattered heart. He had decided to leave everything to her children, the very offspring who had no stake in our shared journey, while our own daughter was left with empty hands and a heart that echoed with loneliness.

What a bitter twist of fate this was.

In this life, he had managed to obliterate our daughter’s spirit, yet in an act of misguided heroism, he had sacrificed his legs while attempting to save me. And me? I had kept him from his dying parents, but in doing so, I had shielded his family from the impending storm that loomed on the horizon.

We had shared moments of love, endured waves of hatred, and built a fortress of loyalty that spanned decades. Yet, in a moment of utter audacity, he had the gall to declare that we were merely partners in this charade—a couple, a family—everything but lovers.

Fine. I had reached the end of my tether.

Rhett Butler, if by some twist of fate there exists a next life, do yourself a favor and keep your distance from me.

And just like that, I found myself awakening, reborn into the very orphanage where our twisted saga had begun.

The heavy doors swung open with a creak, and in burst a strikingly handsome young boy, flanked by his parents, his finger pointed directly at me. “I want to adopt her!” he exclaimed, his voice ringing with an eagerness that sent shivers racing down my spine.

Not again. I silently pleaded with the universe, wishing desperately for this cursed path to finally come to an end.

“Mom, Dad, if you’re looking for a little sister for me, pick her! She looks capable—this way, you’ll have a qualified heir,” he continued, his enthusiasm palpable, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief.

In that moment, a chill settled deep within me. I realized, with a sinking heart, that Rhett Butler had also been reborn into this world.

The memory of his suicide note flickered through my mind like a ghost, and a soft smile tugged at the corners of my lips. He truly was a man of his word, even in this new life.

In my previous existence, I had been consumed by ambition, utterly weary of the relentless grip of poverty and helplessness, with no one to turn to for solace. My singular focus had been to escape the orphanage and find refuge in the arms of a wealthy family.

To achieve this, I had plotted and schemed with the last remnants of my strength, finally catching the attention of the Butler family.

Mr. and Mrs. Butler had been enamored by my spirit, but just as I thought I would escape the hell I had known, Rhett Butler walked in, accompanied by Ashley Wilkes.

He had been so easily swayed by her words, believing every lie she spun—that I had bullied her, that I had seduced teachers despite my tender age, that I was a master of deceit and pretense…

That day, my dreams crumbled into a million pieces, shattered like glass underfoot.

When Rhett took Ashley by the hand and left, he made a point to announce to the entire orphanage, “Scarlett O’Hara is a jinx who will bring you misfortune. I advise you to stay away from her.”

From that moment onward, I plummeted from the depths of hell into an even darker abyss, enduring five long years of torment.

Meanwhile, Ashley, after being adopted by the Butler family, transformed into a wealthy heiress, cherished by all.

Now, as I approached Mr. and Mrs. Butler, I heard Rhett’s voice, filled with an unusual gentleness: “This time, you can be my sister. I’ll treat you well—you won’t have to envy others anymore… at least I won’t let you suffer through another five years at such a young age.”

Understanding washed over me like a wave crashing against the shore. He was expressing remorse for the pain I had endured in my past life.

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