My Reborn Admirer Wins Over My Heart (Oriana) novel Chapter 42

**TITLE: He Returned to Break and Own Me and for His Queen**
**Chapter 42: The Past**

Back in those days, Oriana had taken a bold step, her fingers dancing nervously across her phone screen as she sent a heartfelt message to Grant. It was a long text, so extensive it could have easily been mistaken for an essay, filled with apologies and pleas for forgiveness that spilled from her heart like a waterfall.

Even Zara, her closest friend, couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the display. “Really, Oriana? This again?” she had scoffed, a mix of exasperation and amusement in her voice.

But despite Zara’s teasing, Oriana remained hopelessly devoted to Grant, her heart stubbornly clinging to the remnants of their past. When she saw his brief response—“Got it”—her face lit up with joy, as if she had stumbled upon a long-lost treasure she had feared was gone forever. The thrill of hope surged through her, so powerful that sleep eluded her that night. By dawn, she was eagerly waiting at Grant’s door, breakfast in hand, her heart racing with anticipation.

She had risen before the sun, trudging through the biting cold, taking a lengthy detour across town just to deliver a single bottle of steaming hot chocolate milk. The thought of him warmed her more than the drink itself.

For three years following that moment, Grant had enveloped her in a protective bubble, showering her with affection, convincing her that he was different from anyone she had ever known. Yet, beneath the surface, Oriana’s true nature remained unchanged. She was still the girl who believed in fairy tales, but Grant? He loved no one more than himself.

“Zara, listen,” Oriana had said one day, her voice laced with concern. “If Grant can’t find me, he might come looking for you. If he bothers you at all, please let me know.”

She didn’t want to have any contact with Grant if she could avoid it. The thought of Zara being dragged into her chaotic life filled her with dread.

Zara, however, was fearless, a firecracker of a friend. “So what? He’s a big shot now, sure, but what could he possibly do to me? If he so much as lays a finger on me, I’ll unleash a storm of curses and film the whole thing. Then I’ll make sure everyone in Seabar—and the entire country—sees the true face of their so-called tech prodigy.”

Oriana pressed her fingers to her temple, a small smile creeping onto her lips despite the situation. She genuinely believed that Zara would follow through on her threat. After all, Zara had been harboring her own resentment toward Grant for years, and now it felt like the perfect opportunity for some poetic justice.

***

The following morning, as the first rays of sunlight crept over the horizon, Alaric arrived at dawn, his arms laden with items he had spent the entire night frantically purchasing, each one costing him several times its original price.

He rang the doorbell, and it swung open almost immediately.

“What the—Grant? You’re up this early? Damn, did you even sleep at all?” Alaric exclaimed, his eyes widening in disbelief.

He nearly jumped back at the sight of Grant; the heavy shadows under his eyes and the unshaven scruff on his jaw painted a picture of a man utterly wrecked. Alaric could recall only one other time he had seen Grant like this—back in college, when his family had crumbled and his legs were left crippled.

And now? This was merely the aftermath of a fight with Oriana, and yet he appeared to be on the brink of collapse.

“Did you get everything back?” Alaric asked, concern creeping into his voice.

Grant’s voice came out raspy, as if it had been dragged across sandpaper, sending a wave of unease through Alaric.

“They’re all here!” Alaric replied, handing him a small box with utmost care. “Grant, are you okay?”

Grant clutched the box tightly, filled with the precious treasures he had painstakingly recovered. The night before, he had returned home to find his apartment hauntingly empty. It was as if Oriana had erased every trace of her existence, leaving behind nothing but echoes and memories.

He couldn’t believe she had managed to wipe him out so completely, so ruthlessly, without him even realizing it. It felt like a dagger to his heart.

She was so heartless.

As the hours dragged on, he found himself sitting alone in the living room, clutching the few pieces of clothing he had once bought for her—clothes she had worn so rarely they felt like relics of a different life.

Grant was indifferent to the opinions of others, his focus solely on reclaiming Oriana. But Alaric, ever the pragmatic friend, was concerned about their reputation. He slipped into the car, rolled up the windows, and quickly texted the company’s PR department, instructing them to prepare a statement.

Minute by minute, time dragged on. Grant stood there, rooted in place, from dawn until noon.

Yet still, there was no sign of Oriana.

His initial certainty began to solidify into a darker, more dangerous silence.

Alaric couldn’t hold back any longer. “What if Oriana isn’t even on campus?” he asked, a hint of worry creeping into his voice.

Grant stiffened at the suggestion. He pulled out his phone and dialed Zara’s number, his heart racing.

When she picked up, his tone was sharp, laced with urgency. “Where’s Oriana?”

Zara’s laughter rang through the line, mocking and sardonic. “Well, well, Mr. Holloway. You’re so busy saving the world, and only now do you remember that Oriana exists?”

“Cut the crap. Just tell me where she is,” he demanded, frustration boiling over.

“Scumbag. Filth. Ungrateful bastard. What the hell are you looking for? Oriana doesn’t want you anymore,” she shot back, her venomous words laced with satisfaction.

With that, she hung up, leaving Grant reeling from the sting of her words. After all those years, Zara had finally seized her moment to confront Grant, and it felt like a victory she had long awaited.