Reborn to Claim You: My Toxic Brother Thought I Had Amnesia

After the car crash, my adoptive brother thought I had amnesia. To get rid of me, he pointed at his best friend, Liam Sterling, and played a cruel joke. "This is your boyfriend." In my past life, I immediately exposed my adoptive brother's lie and continued to cling to him desperately. My reward? A miserable death in a secret, heavily guarded psychiatric facility where he locked me away. Three years after my death, a severely depressed Liam Sterling slit his wrists at my grave. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the car crash. This time, I walked straight past my brother, opened my arms to Liam, and said, "Husband, hug me." My adoptive brother accidentally crushed the porcelain mug in his hand. And the man standing in front of me? His eyes instantly turned red as his hoarse voice wrapped around me, pulling me into a desperate embrace. "Okay." 1 The sharp, sterile scent of bleach stung my nose in the hospital room. My adoptive brother, Caleb Foster, and his best friend, Liam Sterling, stood side by side in front of my bed. I shook my pounding head. For a moment, my mind went blank, the scene before me feeling entirely surreal. "Where am I? Who am I?" Caleb, assuming the crash had wiped my memory, eagerly seized the opportunity. He pointed at the man next to him, a mocking glint in his eyes. "You are my sister, Chloe Foster. And this is your boyfriend, Liam Sterling." I looked at Liam in absolute shock. The man’s sharp, handsome features were cast downward, tinged with a deep, quiet loneliness. He deliberately avoided my gaze, yet his eyes kept darting back to me, lingering with a heavy, unspoken restraint. He looked exactly as he had in my previous life. 2 In my past life, I had harbored a bitter, one-sided obsession with my adoptive brother for years, clinging to him until he couldn't stand it anymore. When the car crash happened, he thought I had amnesia. To finally shake me off, he lied and said Liam was my boyfriend. Truthfully, when I first woke up, my memory was a bit fuzzy. But it all came rushing back very quickly. Faced with Caleb's cruel prank, I didn't think much of it at the time. Instead, out of pure stubbornness, I immediately exposed his lie, desperate to prove my mind was perfectly intact. I had timidly tugged at Caleb's designer shirt, my eyes welling with tears. "Caleb, I don't have amnesia. I'm not lying." Unable to deal with my crying, Caleb had stiffened but pulled me into a hug. Just like he had done every time I cried over the past five years. "I'm sorry, Chloe. I made a mistake." Overjoyed, I tossed the whole incident to the back of my mind. I went right back to orbiting around Caleb like a desperate satellite. Ever since I was sixteen, I realized my feelings for my adoptive brother had crossed a line. Whenever he brought a new girlfriend home, I would deliberately sabotage the relationship. Psychology books call it toxic possessiveness. I didn't care. Caleb tacitly allowed all my outrageous behavior. Many times, when I drove those girls away, he was the one secretly pulling the strings behind the scenes. He indulged my tantrums and allowed my relentless pursuit. Once, blackout drunk, I threw my arms around Caleb and kissed him. He didn't push me away. Instead, his body went rigid, and he let me take whatever I wanted from his lips. Back then, I foolishly believed that meant Caleb loved me too. But I ignored the most critical detail: he never actually admitted to having feelings for me. I kissed him for what felt like an eternity, until he suddenly snapped out of it, violently shoving me away and ordering me to get the hell out. Caleb had touched his swollen lips, a twisted, mocking smile forming on his face. "Chloe, how could you be in love with your own brother? You're a sick freak." I snapped awake as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped over my head. My entire body went numb. "I'm not. I didn't mean to..." My weak defense trailed off. His voice rose sharply, dripping with interrogation. "You don't have feelings for me? Really?" The sheer disgust in his eyes carved my heart to pieces. I couldn't answer. Deep down, I did love Caleb. I was an orphan adopted from the foster system. He was the only person in the entire world who treated me well. How could I not fall for him? As if peering right into my darkest secret, Caleb’s disgust deepened. "Sick freaks like you belong locked up in a psychiatric ward for some serious rehabilitation." 3 My thoughts snapped back to the present. I stared in bewilderment at Caleb, who was currently smirking at me. He met my gaze, making no effort to hide the amusement in his eyes. In a split second, goosebumps erupted all over my arms. An uncontrollable shiver racked my spine. I dug my fingernails hard into my palms, using the sharp pain to keep my sanity tethered. I looked him dead in the eye and enunciated every word clearly. "I understand, Caleb." In this life, I refused to have any ties with him ever again. Everything between us ended the moment I died a miserable death in my past life. My days in that private psychiatric facility had been a living hell. Caleb visited me exactly once every two weeks. Unable to endure the daily beatings and electroshock "therapies," I begged him on my knees to let me out. I had screamed until my throat bled, "Caleb, I was wrong! I don't love you anymore! I swear!" But every time, Caleb simply looked down at me with cold, indifferent eyes, his voice devoid of any human emotion. "Chloe, it seems your illness is acting up again." The moment he left, the agonizing torture would resume. I tried to contact anyone I knew, praying they would rescue me. But Caleb was thorough. He wiped my existence from the map. Not a single message ever made it out. Within six months, the abuse finally killed me. But after I died, Caleb lost his mind. He clung to my lifeless body and refused to let go. He said he regretted it. He said he loved me. He cried hysterically, repeating over and over how terrified and conflicted he had been. Falling in love with his adopted sister meant the elite circles of high society would look at him with disgust. My soul had stood right beside him, watching the whole pathetic display with icy detachment. I only felt nauseous. Even now, looking at Caleb triggered a physiological need to vomit. So, I shifted my gaze to Liam Sterling. I opened my arms wide, fighting back my tears, and put on my sweetest, most fragile voice. "Husband, hug me." 4 Crash! The sound of shattering porcelain echoed sharply in the quiet hospital room. I glanced over. Caleb’s palm was sliced open, blood mixing with the hot coffee from the mug he just crushed, dripping onto the pristine floor. Disgusting. He stood frozen, all the mocking amusement wiped from his face. Replacing it was a storm of pure, unadulterated fury. But I didn't care about him right now. All my attention was focused on Liam. The moment the word "Husband" left my lips, Liam's eyes flushed a deep, rimmed red. His entire body went rigid as he looked up at me in utter shock. Disbelief and overwhelming emotion warred in his eyes, eventually settling into a profound, trembling vulnerability. His lips parted, his voice incredibly hoarse. He closed the distance between us in two rapid strides and pulled me tightly into his chest, burying his face in my neck. "Okay." Caleb clenched his bleeding fist, the blood flowing faster. He coughed pointedly and raised his injured left hand, shoving it right into my line of sight. The metallic smell of blood made me wrinkle my nose. Liam smoothly shifted his body, pulling me to the side and wrapping his long trench coat around my shoulders to shield me. I peeked out from his chest, only for a large, warm hand to gently cover my eyes. "Don't look. It's gross," Liam murmured. With that, Liam stood firmly between me and Caleb, glaring at him with naked hostility. "You know she's terrified of blood and pain. Are you doing this just to make her sick?" A strange, unfamiliar warmth bloomed in my chest. I gently pushed Liam's hand away and looked up at his pale, striking face. His features were flawless, exactly as I remembered. But looking closely, there was a sharper, more dangerous edge to him now. In my memories, Liam had always been the quiet, brooding type who kept to himself. This was the first time I had ever seen him ruthlessly call someone out. Clearly, Caleb was just as shocked. "Mind your own damn business." Caleb rolled his eyes and pushed his trembling, bloody hand toward me again. He was waiting for my usual reaction. "Chloe, I'm hurt." In the past, I would have panicked, frantically searching for the first-aid kit, crying massive tears while carefully bandaging his wounds. But now? I shrank deeper into Liam's embrace and cast a look of utter revulsion at Caleb’s filthy hand. "Caleb, there are doctors and nurses in the hallway. I don't have a medical degree." "You—?!" I cut him off irritably. "I'm tired. I want to go home." Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Liam's lips twitching upward into a smirk. He looked like a smug golden retriever wagging its tail. 5 My body was fine. The doctors said I just needed bed rest at home. Liam absolutely refused to let my feet touch the floor. He insisted on carrying me out of the hospital. Caleb's face was a mask of dark fury. At that moment, he finally snapped. He grabbed my arm in a vice grip. "Chloe, didn't you say you wanted to go home?" I peeled his fingers off my arm one by one, leaving angry red marks on my pale skin. "I am. I'm going to my boyfriend's home. Is there a problem, Caleb?" "Chloe Foster, you are going to regret this." Caleb let out a self-deprecating laugh, the words practically hissed through his teeth. Regret? My only regret was not realizing my true feelings sooner. My only regret was acting like a total idiot in my past life, letting Caleb play me like a fiddle. Liam placed me gently into the passenger seat of his car and carefully buckled my seatbelt. He started the engine, slammed on the gas, and sped away. For the entire drive, his right hand tightly enveloped my fist, refusing to let go. When we arrived at his penthouse, I felt sticky and exhausted. I told him I wanted a bath. Liam attentively started the hot water. He pulled an unopened bottle of essential oil from the cabinet. When he opened it, the scent of jasmine filled the air—my absolute favorite. Next, he walked into his massive walk-in closet and pulled out a set of loungewear still bearing the price tags. It fit me perfectly. I was a little confused. Liam scratched the back of his neck, a deep flush spreading all the way to his ears. "I saw it while I was out shopping. I thought it would look good on you, so I just grabbed it." "Did you just 'grab' all of this, too?" I pointed past him. Taking up more than half of the massive closet was a full wardrobe of women's clothing. All brand new. All from the designers I loved most. "Don't get the wrong idea, I was just... I was..." I blinked at him playfully, waiting for his excuse. Liam let out a heavy sigh, dropping the act entirely. "Is it a crime to buy clothes for my own girlfriend?" Was this really the deeply insecure, overly sensitive Liam from my memories? The guy who used to blush if I so much as said two words to him? In my past life, up until the day I died in that asylum, I barely interacted with him. It wasn't until I was a ghost that I finally understood the terrifying depth of Liam's love for me. 6 In my past life, my soul was tethered to the apartment I lived in before I died. I had moved out of the Foster family mansion the moment I realized I had feelings for Caleb. When Liam found out I was dead, he went straight to Caleb demanding answers. But what answers could he get? Caleb released a public statement claiming I had contracted a severe illness and passed away. Liam had no legal right to demand the truth or an autopsy. One night, Liam easily hacked the digital lock on my old apartment. I watched in shock as he stumbled through the door and collapsed into my bedroom. When my ghost drifted over, I saw his tall, broad frame curled into a tight ball on my mattress. His shoulders shook violently, a massive wet patch spreading across my pillow. I wanted to comfort him. But I didn't even know where to begin. So I just sat on the edge of the bed and quietly watched him. Eventually, I couldn't hold back anymore. I reached out to stroke his soft, messy hair. But I was just a ghost. I couldn't truly touch him. My palm phased right through his dark strands. I patted the air above his head, trying to coax him like a child. "Liam, please don't cry anymore. If you keep crying, I won't be able to resist kissing you." The handsome face resting on my pillow trembled violently for a split second. Liam's eyes snapped open, massive tears rolling down his cheeks. Then, he squeezed them shut in absolute despair. "Liar." The room fell dead silent. The only sound was his low, shattered sobbing echoing through the dark apartment. 7 From that day on, Liam moved into my apartment, keeping my ghost company. People called him crazy. I thought he was crazy, too. Because Liam developed a habit of talking to himself. One moment he’d be speaking to thin air, sharing something good that happened; the next, he’d be venting about a terrible day. I just stood there, listening quietly. Watching his cold, handsome face constantly stained with tears. Liam withered away day by day. I knew he was sick. The dining table was covered in mountains of prescription pill bottles. I begged him to keep living. But it was useless. He couldn't hear a word I said. We lived together in that apartment for three whole years. Like two hopelessly lonely souls separated by an impenetrable wall. I couldn't touch him, I couldn't feel him, and he couldn't hear me. The longer I stayed in the mortal realm, the more transparent my spirit became. I knew it wouldn't be long before I faded from this world completely. Liam continued leaving early and coming home late. I was trapped in the apartment, so I had no idea what he was doing out there. Until the third anniversary of my death. Before Liam left the apartment, he deliberately turned on the TV and switched it to the local news channel. As he walked out the door, he turned back and stared deeply at the exact spot I was standing. My heart pounded with a sense of impending dread. Soon, a breaking news bulletin flashed across the screen: Caleb Foster, CEO of Foster Enterprises, killed in a fatal car collision. Police suspect a targeted hit. The suspect has fled the scene and a massive manhunt is underway. It was Liam. He was such an idiot! Panic surged through me. My soul erupted with an unprecedented burst of energy, shattering the invisible barrier trapping me in the apartment. Guided by some unknown force, I materialized right in front of my own gravestone. Liam was slumped against the cold marble, hugging my headstone, crying like a broken child. "Chloe, I finally avenged you." Scattered around his feet were empty prescription bottles and crushed beer cans. I hovered around him, panicking helplessly. The massive cemetery was completely empty. No one was around to stop him. "Liam Sterling, I order you, you are not allowed to die! Do you hear me?!" My hysterical, ear-piercing scream seemed to briefly pierce the veil. Liam looked up, staring right into my eyes. The corners of his lips curved up into a breathtaking, satisfied smile. "You came to pick me up, didn't you?" The moment the words left his mouth, he took a hunting knife and slashed it brutally across his scarred wrist. "Chloe, if there is a next life, I promise I'll be brave enough to hold your hand." 8 Thank God, the universe gave me a second chance. Looking at the handsome face just inches away from mine, my cheeks flushed, and my eyes filled with tears. The memory of his dying smile carved a bloody hole in my chest. It hurt so much I gasped. A warm hand gently cupped my cheek, using a thumb to carefully wipe away the tears pooling at the corners of my eyes. "Does your head still hurt?" The car crash hadn't been serious. I only suffered a few minor scrapes. Compared to the torture I endured in my past life, it was absolutely nothing. I hadn't been in pain for a while. But I didn't want Liam to know about my rebirth. I nodded, greedily leaning into the warmth of his palm. "It hurts. It hurts so much. I think I need a kiss to make it better." "So spoiled." Liam licked his lower lip, his dark eyes shining brilliantly. "Is a kiss going to be enough?" Before I could even process the words, a hand tangled into the hair at the back of my head. An all-consuming kiss crashed down on me, completely dominating my senses. It felt like he was trying to crush me into his very bones. I was kissed until I was completely out of breath. Suddenly, my phone started ringing. It was Caleb. I didn't want to answer it. But the man kissing me seemed utterly tireless, showing zero signs of stopping. Annoyed, I reached out blindly to reject the call, but my finger accidentally swiped 'Answer'. "Chloe, I thought about it. You need to come back to the estate. The maids can take proper care of you there." "Mmph..." A muffled moan accidentally slipped from my lips. Caleb lost his mind on the other end of the line. "Chloe, what the hell are you doing?! Answer me!" "Don't get distracted." I didn't have the breath to reply to Caleb. Someone grabbed my hand and hit the end call button. Half an hour later, I was still wrapped around Liam like a koala. Violent pounding on the front door, mixed with furious swearing, echoed from the entryway. "Liam Sterling, who gave you the right to touch her?!" 9 Caleb was being incredibly annoying. I wanted to ignore him. But it didn't sound like he was going to leave anytime soon. Pouting, I reluctantly untangled myself from Liam. He chuckled, ruffling my messy hair, his eyes curving into sweet crescents. "Be a good girl. I'll go get rid of him." With his lips still flushed and swollen, Liam walked over and opened the door. He had barely cracked it open when Caleb barged in like a rabid dog. His dark, venomous gaze swept over my body. It finally landed on the blooming red marks scattered across my neck. "You dared to touch her? Liam, you actually touched her?!" Caleb roared, pulling his fist back with pure hatred, aiming a vicious punch straight at Liam's face. "She has amnesia, you psycho! You're taking advantage of her!" I screamed. But Liam just casually tilted his head, effortlessly dodging the incoming fist. Was this the Liam I knew? Since when was he this agile? His counterattacks were ruthless, every punch connecting with a sickening thud. In less than ten seconds, Caleb was completely subdued and forcefully shoved out the front door. "Get the hell out! If you ever harass her again, I'll kill you." Slam. The heavy oak door shut, leaving me staring at Liam's broad, intimidating back. When he turned around, the terrifying aura vanished, replaced by his usual gentle warmth. "Did I scare you?" It was honestly a masterpiece. I was dumbfounded. Wait a minute. Something wasn't right with Liam. "Are you hiding something from me?" Liam scratched the back of his head, nodding shyly. "Yeah. You said you liked them, so I secretly started working out." "Liked what?" He pointed a long, elegant finger at his own torso. I like abs? When did I ever say that? Then it hit me. In my past life, when I was a ghost trapped in his apartment, I had spent hours staring at his perfectly sculpted eight-pack, whining about how I could look but couldn't touch. Wait, no, how could he possibly know what my ghost said? I eyed the man in front of me with deep suspicion. I immediately crashed into a pair of eyes brimming with amusement. "I know 'PancakeLover99' is your burner account." Well, wasn't he observant. It was true. I used to use that burner account to leave extremely thirsty comments on TikTok fitness videos. But did he have to expose me like this?! Where was my dignity? How was I supposed to try out my wicked ideas on him now? Whatever. I threw my pride out the window and rubbed my hands together like a cartoon villain. I stared hungrily at his rock-hard abs. "Can I touch?" His handsome face immediately turned crimson. After a long pause, a response as quiet as a mosquito came from above me. "Yeah." 10 The next morning, I pushed myself up off his perfectly toned stomach. There were faint red indentations on Liam's skin from where I had been sleeping on him. He was a remarkably still sleeper. He barely moved the entire night. When I was a spirit, I had slept in the same bed as him for three years. But this was the first time I had ever shared a bed with him in the flesh. Once the initial adrenaline wore off, a massive wave of shyness crashed over me. Blushing furiously, I tried to escape, but his hand wrapped around my ankle, dragging me right back on top of him. His thin lips brushed against mine, teasing and affectionate. "Feeling shy? You certainly didn't look this way last night when you asked me to call you 'Master'." Trembling, I pushed against his chest. "I'm hungry." Liam’s eyes narrowed slightly, but his hands didn't stop wandering. "Hmm?" I panicked and clarified. "My stomach is hungry." Right on cue, my stomach let out a loud rumble. Liam looked deeply disappointed. He pulled his hands back, resting his chin on his hand as he looked at me playfully. "But this part of me is hungry, too." "..." By the time we finally got dressed and walked out of the bedroom, his private chef had already prepared lunch and left. The entire table was covered in all my favorite dishes. As we ate, Liam asked me, "What do you want to do today?" "I have amnesia, remember? I don't remember anything." I decided to tease him. "Why don't you tell me? What were our dates usually like?" Liam's face turned pink, but he shook his head with a smug smile. "You just loved being with me. You never wanted to be apart." "Okay, but where did we usually go?" I wasn't sure if I imagined it, but Liam's expression darkened for a split second, a flash of sorrow crossing his eyes. "We..." He fell into a deep silence, as if trying to recall something from a very distant past. "We liked staying at home." Staying at home? Considering what happened this morning, my lower back was still aching. There was no way we were staying at home today. "Liam, let's go to IKEA." "Huh?" "This place is too cold and minimalist. I don't like it." Liam wasn't a fan of lively spaces. His penthouse was practically empty. Everything was decorated in cold, sterile grays and blacks. It didn't feel like a home at all. I wanted to paint this entire house with my colors. Not just by hanging a few dresses in the closet. I wanted to claim every inch of it. Because Liam was plagued by severe separation anxiety. If I stepped out of his sight for even a few seconds, he would panic and frantically search for me. Only when he saw I was safe would he let out a massive breath and pull me into a crushing hug. "Chloe, I was so scared I'd lost you again." Tears would well in his eyes as he gasped for air. "When I can't see you, it feels like a piece of me is missing." So, I wanted to aggressively mark my territory, to fill that empty void in his heart with evidence of my existence.

? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "391835", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel