Melina Solberg sits alone in a hospital, secretly waiting for her test results. The brain tumor has returned and grown. Surgery is no longer possible. She may only have three months left to live.
She tells no one. She doesn't want to burden her fiancé, Adrian Falk. She has spent her whole life trying not to be a burden.
When she was a child, her mother Elise died in a fire while saving her. After that, Melina's father Henrik blamed her for the tragedy. He remarried Vivian, his former secretary
Reborn: No Longer Your Fool - False Accusation, Unyielding Heart
Ingrid Falk pressed her burning rage deep inside her slender frame—quietly, but with absolute certainty.
The entrance hall of the new Solberg estate. A damp wind from the sea seeped in, just barely, through the gaps of the heavy oak doors. Frosthaun in February was still deep in winter's grip. Outside, gray fog. The streetlamps bled their light into the haze, faint and blurred.
"Welcome, Lady Falk."
Frieda, the aging servant, bowed deeply from the waist. Ingrid glanced at her with a cold, dismissive gaze.
"This will be the first and last time anyone from the Vester family sets foot in this house."
Her voice carried a clear, metallic ring. A black wool coat. A silver fox fur stole. Her attire was, even by Frosthaun high society standards, exceptionally lavish—and exceptionally cold.
*(So this woman is Adrian's mother.)*
Melina Solberg stood at the window of her third-floor room, staring down at the visitor. Her platinum blonde hair was tied back low, in a single tail. Her deep brown-hazel eyes reflected the fog-dimmed city lights, burning darkly, quietly.
*(In my first life, this woman humiliated me. Again and again.)*
At the engagement meeting. In social gatherings. And always, always with a smile on her face as she spat her poison.
"Miss. Lady Falk is waiting in the parlor."
Frieda's hesitant voice came from outside the room.
"Yes. I'm coming now."
Melina slowly pulled herself away from the window. She stood before the mirror. The face of a twelve-year-old girl. But the light dwelling in those eyes was the fierce awakening of a twenty-five-year-old woman.
She picked up the small pearl-colored button resting on the desk. A keepsake from her mother, Elise. She slipped it quietly into her skirt pocket.
*(Now then. Let's go.)*
She steadied her breathing, once.
---
The parlor was terribly quiet. The fireplace crackled softly from time to time. Vivian Solberg sat, as always, elegantly in the deep green velvet armchair before the fire. Perfect silver-blonde curls. Cold, pale blue eyes. In her hands, rose-scented tea.
"My, Melina. Come here."
Vivian beckoned Melina with a honeyed voice. Her lips maintained their perfect smile.
"Our guest has something she wishes to discuss with you directly."
"Yes. I shall hear it, Mother."
Melina walked quietly to the center of the parlor. Ingrid Falk sat on the sofa, her back ramrod straight. She had to be past sixty, yet her skin was kept unnaturally smooth through cosmetics and relentless effort.
*(This woman's perfect mask.)*
*(I know it well.)*
"I address the young lady of the Solberg house."
Ingrid studied Melina with an appraising eye. Her gaze swept from top to bottom—the tailoring of her clothes, the luster of her hair, her posture—assessing everything.
"You unilaterally broke off your engagement to my son, Adrian. You dragged the Vester family's honor through the mud. I have come today to discuss all of it."
Her voice was like a cold knife. An unyielding pressure.
"Oh my. The engagement was never formally established."
Melina replied quietly, but clearly.
"We simply declined the proposal before we had the chance to know each other well. To claim our honor was soiled is simply absurd."
Ingrid's eyes narrowed sharply for an instant.
"How eloquent. What exactly dissatisfied you about Adrian? Was the Vester family's influence insufficient?"
"No. I merely judged that he was unsuitable for me."
Melina smiled. Perfectly performing the innocent smile of a twelve-year-old girl.
"Unsuitable, you say?"
Ingrid's voice trembled slightly for the first time. With rage.
"Yes. I am still a child, after all. I wish to consider marriage slowly, after I graduate from university."
"...Have you forgotten? About your friend."
Ingrid spoke the threat quietly, but unmistakably.
"Sofia Nilsen. Such a good friend, isn't she? Editor-in-chief of the student newspaper, so full of righteous conviction. Ah, but how unfortunate. Right now, she's in a police station, isn't she?"
Melina's heart contracted, cold and sharp.
*(Sofia.)*
*(This woman is complicit in this trap too.)*
"She is innocent."
"Innocent? Oh? Didn't the police seize evidence?"
A cruel smile played at Ingrid's lips.
"A rare book from the university library was found in her bag. The surveillance cameras clearly captured the moment of the crime. And you call this innocence? Don't make me laugh."
"It's fabricated."
"Fabricated? By whom? Do you have any idea what you're saying?"
Ingrid leaned forward from the sofa. In her eyes burned unmistakable malice.
"Listen well. The Vester family has deep connections with Frosthaun's police leadership. If you persist in this broken engagement, Sofia Nilsen's theft charges will absolutely result in conviction. She will be expelled from university, branded a criminal, and unable to live in this city."
Melina's fist clenched tightly in the shadow of her skirt. Her nails bit into her palm. The pain cooled her head.
"And all of it will be your fault. Because you rejected Adrian."
Ingrid smiled triumphantly.
"Know your place, little girl."
The words hung heavy and cold, freezing the air in the room.
"...Is that all you wished to say?"
Melina raised her head quietly. Her eyes no longer burned with rage. No—they burned still. But it was a controlled, ice-cold flame.
"What?"
"You may take your leave now."
Melina smiled.
"I don't recall inviting you."
"Wh-what..."
Ingrid was at a loss for words.
"Frieda. Lady Falk is leaving. Please see her out."
Melina straightened her back and spoke with finality.
"Vivian! Do something about this insolent brat!"
Ingrid appealed to Vivian for help. But Vivian slowly set her teacup down on its saucer.
"My, Ingrid. She's only a child. Surely you can overlook it. Or does the lady of the Vester house truly intend to lose her temper over a twelve-year-old?"
Vivian's pale blue eyes pierced Ingrid coldly.
*(This woman isn't protecting me.)*
*(She's simply enjoying the show.)*
Melina cursed inwardly.
"...Remember this. I will make you pay for this slight. Without fail."
Ingrid stood. She swept the hem of her black coat around and stormed out of the parlor.
The sound of the heavy front door closing echoed long through the house.
Melina stood rooted to the spot. Her clenched fist trembled. Blood seeped between her fingers. Her nails had dug in far too deep.
*(How frustrating.)*
*(But I won't cry here.)*
She quietly opened her blood-stained fist inside her pocket. The pearl-colored button touched her fingertips.
---
Several hours later.
Frosthaun harbor. The warehouse district.
The wind from the sea rattled the rusted containers. The fog had grown deeper, denser.
In the corner of a warehouse.
A single light burned in a small office.
Vivian Solberg stood in the center of the dim room. A sharply tailored business suit. A different face from her socialite gowns.
"You're late, Henning."
Her voice was sweet, yet chilling to the bone.
"My apologies. Frosthaun's fog is as terrible as ever."
Henning Larsen was a tall, thin man. In his fifties. A dark gray suit—not cheap, but not luxurious either. His eyes were like a snake's, chasing nothing but business figures.
"So, how was your meeting with Lady Falk?"
"As planned. The little girl should understand her situation now."
"But was it wise? Making an enemy of an old family like the Vesters?"
"Enemy? No. They're merely disposable pieces. While Adrian is still infatuated with that girl, we shake her emotions. Simple, isn't it?"
The two faced each other across an old wooden table. Spread across it were copies of Elise Natural's shareholder registry.
"Is the market accumulation of shares proceeding smoothly?"
"Yes. Through three shell companies, we're gradually buying from individual shareholders. Currently at eighteen percent of issued shares. We're keeping the pace slow to avoid detection."
"And can we ultimately secure a majority?"
"Elise Natural's shares are dispersed. The founding Solberg family holds thirty-four percent, frozen in the late Elise's testamentary trust.
Of the remaining sixty-six percent, banks and institutional investors hold twenty percent. The remaining forty-six percent is in circulation.
In other words, if we collect more than half of that forty-six percent—twenty-three percent—combined with the Solberg family's thirty-four percent, that's fifty-seven percent. A majority."
"The Solberg family's thirty-four percent still belongs to that girl."
"That's the issue. We'll need to falsify the trust agreement. Invalidate the girl's inheritance rights and transfer Henrik's voting rights to our side. That's your job."
"Yes. The arrangements are already in place. All that remains is for that girl to sign the documents. If she truly believes in her friend's innocence, that is."
Vivian's lips twisted slightly. A cruel smile.
"Once we succeed, the company's total assets are split fifty-fifty. That was the agreement, yes?"
"Yes. Not bad."
Henning returned an eerily mechanical smile.
---
Frosthaun Central Police Station.
Visitation room.
Melina gazed at Sofia Nilsen, seated on the other side of the acrylic partition.
Sofia was terribly haggard. Her near-black dark brown bob was disheveled, and her large brown eyes were red and bloodshot from crying. She wasn't wearing her glasses.
"Melina... you came."
Sofia's voice was hoarse.
"Of course. You're my precious friend."
Sofia's eyes grew moist. But the tears had already run dry.
"I didn't do anything. That book—I don't know anything about it. When I noticed, it was just in my bag."
"Tell me. That day, where were you, and who did you meet?"
Melina's voice was low and steady.
"That day, after class, I went to the editorial office. I was fixing manuscripts until around nine at night. Then, before going home, I put the materials I'd borrowed from you into my bag to return them.
At that point, a junior from the student newspaper bought me coffee... her name is Fan Liebe. A second-year. She said she'd treat me, so I accepted.
Then I left my bag on the desk and stepped away to the vending machine outside. About five minutes. ...After that, when I got home, the police were there."
The sound of sniffling.
"I believe you, Sofia. You would never steal anything."
"Melina..."
Sofia hung her head. Her thin shoulders trembled.
"B-but because of me, you might be in danger too... Has anything happened to you since then? Any strange rumors at university?"
"Nothing at all. I'm fine. More importantly—have they done anything to you in there?"
"I'm okay... The officers are all kind. But there's no sign of when I'll be released. And I don't have money for a lawyer."
Sofia laughed self-deprecatingly.
"Hey, Melina. Please. Just leave me alone. I know you're trying to do something. But they're adults, with power, and the police on their side. We can't win."
Those words pierced deep into Melina's chest.
"...Sofia."
"I've been thinking about confessing."
"What?"
"If I admit to the crime, the trial will end quickly. I'll probably be expelled from university. But I can't cause you any more trouble. ...You're my only real friend."
A single tear slid down Sofia's cheek.
"Absolutely not."
Melina spoke forcefully.
"You must not confess. If you admit guilt, you'll be playing right into the real culprit's hands. Into those women's hands. They'll watch you break and laugh. You absolutely cannot lose."
"Melina..."
"It's all right. I will definitely get you out of here. If you're my best friend, then I'm your advocate. Trust me and wait."
Melina pressed her hand against the acrylic partition. Sofia placed her trembling hand over it.
"...Thank you, Melina. I'm sorry for being weak."
"I won't tell you not to be weak. Being scared is only natural. But you're not alone."
The warmth of their hands.
Even through the acrylic, she could feel it clearly.
---
Late at night, in Melina's apartment.
Number 8, Holm Street. Third floor of a four-story buildin
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