Reborn To Win Back My Billionaire Husband
The tip of my fountain pen hovered over the divorce agreement. Across the mahogany desk, my billionaire husband, Chandler, looked at me with cold, dead eyes, waiting for me to sign my life away.
What he didn't know was that a phantom pain was still tearing through my chest—the memory of cold steel sliding between my ribs.
In my previous life, I foolishly signed these papers, burning down my marriage for my lover, Chace, and my sweet stepsister, Annalise.
Only to be left to bleed to death in a dark alley while they laughed, planning to steal my son and Chandler's fortune.
Reborn at the exact moment of my ruin, I tore the divorce agreement to shreds.
I desperately tried to make amends, even joining a reality show with my traumatized six-year-old son to prove I had changed.
But Chace and Annalise wouldn't let me go. Seeing my public redemption, they panicked and released a hyper-realistic deepfake sex tape of me and Chace.
They demanded $300 million from Chandler, framing my newfound love for my family as an elaborate, sickening long con.
Chandler burst into the house, throwing the blackmail papers at my feet.
His eyes were filled with broken agony and absolute disgust, fully believing that my tears, my apologies to our son, and my desperate kisses were all just a performance for money.
He thought I was the exact same monster who had destroyed him once before.
The old me would have screamed, cried, and played right into their hands.
Instead, I calmly stepped forward, gently smoothed the collar of his suit jacket, and looked into his tortured eyes.
"I'm not going to explain the video, or the money."
"I'm not going to ask for your forgiveness."
"I am asking you for one thing, Chandler."
"You have to trust me."
Chapters
Share
Chapter 3
The crystal glass shattered against the marble fireplace.
"That bitch!" Annalise Maxwell shrieked, her perfectly made-up face twisted into a mask of rage. On the oversized television screen, an entertainment news anchor was breathlessly announcing Cordelia's latest move.
"In a shocking turn of events, socialite Cordelia Hamilton, wife of billionaire Chandler Hamilton, will be joining the cast of the upcoming reality series, 'The Hamiltons Unfiltered,' and she's bringing her six-year-old son, Case, with her."
Annalise's fingers, tipped with blood-red nails, stabbed at her phone screen, dialing a number she knew by heart.
"Did she get the money from Hamilton yet?" Chace Mack's voice was strained, laced with a desperate edge. "My credit lines are frozen, and I've heard whispers about the SEC. Without a capital injection, I'll be completely wiped out, Annalise. I could even face prison."
"Money?" Annalise laughed, a sharp, ugly sound. "Forget the money. She's busy planning her comeback tour on national television. She's playing the victim card, Chace. The devoted mother trying to fix her broken family."
She explained the news, her voice dripping with venom. "If she pulls this off, if she actually makes the public feel sorry for her, Chandler might take her back. And then where does that leave us? Where does that leave you?"
The silence on the other end of the line was heavy. Then, Chace's voice came back, low and dangerous. "Then we can't let her succeed. We have to destroy her on that show. Remind everyone what a pathetic, obsessed train wreck she really is."
"I've already thought of that," Annalise said, a smug smile returning to her lips. "My father has a stake in the production company. I'm joining the cast. As the supportive, worried older sister, of course."
They spent the next ten minutes plotting, their words weaving a web of deceit. Annalise would be the inside woman, creating drama, subtly bringing up Cordelia's past, framing her as an unstable mother. Chace would work from the outside, ready to leak a carefully selected photo or a fabricated text message to the press at the perfect moment.
Before hanging up, Annalise glanced across her living room. A small, dark-haired boy was quietly playing with a set of wooden blocks.
"Ben misses you," she said into the phone, her voice softening possessively. It was a reminder of their shared secret, the one that bound them together tighter than any business deal.
A few miles away, Sloane Adler walked into Cordelia's sitting room, her face grim. She slapped a contract down on the coffee table.
"You're not going to like this," Sloane said, skipping the pleasantries. "Annalise is joining the show. Her father called the network head directly. They're spinning it as a 'sisterly reconciliation' storyline. Cordelia, this is a trap. A blatant, prime-time ambush. You need to pull out. Now."
Cordelia looked at the contract, then at Sloane's worried face. She felt a strange sense of calm. Of course Annalise was joining. In her last life, her stepsister had always been there, lurking in the shadows, whispering poison, orchestrating her downfall piece by piece.
A slow, cold smile touched Cordelia's lips.
"Good," she said, her voice so quiet it was almost a whisper. "Let her come. It's better to have your enemy where you can see them."
She picked up the pen and, with a steady hand, signed her name.
Sloane stared at her, speechless. The terrified, emotional wreck she was used to counseling was gone. In her place was a woman made of ice and steel.
After Sloane left, Cordelia's phone rang. The caller ID made her heart clench. Chandler. It was the first time he had called her since that day in the office.
She answered, her hand trembling slightly.
His voice was like a shard of glass. "I can't stop you from making a fool of yourself in public, Cordelia. But I'm warning you. If you harm Case in any way-if I see one tear in his eye that you caused-I will personally ruin you. In a way that no television show can fix."
It was a threat, pure and simple. There was no concern, no question. Only a promise of annihilation.
"I won't," she said, her own voice tight with pain. "You can watch every second of it."
She hung up, sinking back into the sofa, a wave of exhaustion washing over her.
In his sleek, top-floor office overlooking Central Park, Chandler slammed his phone down. Just then, his assistant, Alex Kent, knocked and entered.
"Sir," Alex said, his tone professional and discreet. "The preliminary financial inquiry you requested. We traced a recent flag on Mrs. Hamilton's credit file. An inquiry was made to a high-risk offshore investment firm. It's a shell corporation, but it's the same one our sources confirm Chace Mack has been using to hide his remaining assets. The inquiry itself was sophisticated, using security details that would typically require close familial access."
Chandler's blood ran cold.
He leaned back in his chair, a bitter, humorless smile twisting his lips. It all made sense. The divorce theatrics, roping Case into the reality show, even her calm acceptance of Annalise joining the cast. It was all a diversion. A massive, elaborate smoke screen to distract him while she figured out a way to funnel money to her lover.
This report was the proof. The cold, hard fact that killed any lingering shred of doubt Case's words had planted.
"Keep a close eye on her finances, Alex," Chandler said, his voice dangerously low. "And on the show. I want a live feed to my office. I want to know her every move."
He was going to watch her performance. And when she was at her highest, when she thought she had everyone fooled, he was going to be the one to burn her stage to the ground.
You may also like
9.5
For nine years, I poured my soul into proving I was worthy of my wealthy boyfriend, Clayton Wright. I endured his endless, humiliating "tests," sacrificing everything for a place in his world.
But at our engagement party, the final test was revealed. He stood by as his ex-girlfriend, Anjelica, framed me for shattering a priceless family heirloom.
"You manipulative bitch!" he snarled, slapping me across the face. He then ordered his bodyguard to force me to my knees, grinding them into the sharp, broken fragments of the watch.
As I bled on the floor, he pulled out his phone and gave a single command: demolish my childhood home, the last piece I had of my deceased father.
He destroyed my past and my dignity, yet minutes later, my phone buzzed with a message from him.
"The engagement is just for show. I'll still marry you. You're my destiny."
That night, clutching the last of my father's life insurance, I booked a one-way ticket and vanished. He thought he had finally broken his little project, but he had just unleashed a woman with nothing left to lose.
9.7
For three years, I played the role of a devoted, naive wife to billionaire Conrad Whitney. I hid my true identity and foolishly believed in our fairy tale.
Then he handed me a harsh divorce agreement, ordering me to sign and walk away with absolutely nothing. He was leaving me to marry Cindy, the fragile woman he claimed had saved him from a fire.
He expected me to cry and beg. Instead, he watched coldly as Cindy and her family illegally transferred my father's trust fund. When I confronted them at the hospital, Conrad shielded her, calling me a greedy, toxic viper. He mocked me, completely blind to the fact that Cindy was a fraud. He truly believed I was just a pathetic, useless housewife who would be utterly destroyed without his money and status.
I looked at the man I had actually dragged out of that burning debris with my own soot-covered hands. My trauma, my sacrifices, and my love had all been reduced to a joke by his sheer arrogance and a few fake tears from a manipulative liar.
I didn't shed a single tear. I calmly signed the papers, drugged his wine, and left a crumpled one-dollar bill on his unconscious chest with a sticky note mocking his terrible service.
Then, I picked up my encrypted phone. It was time for the world's top surgeon, Dr. Hades, to return, and for Conrad to finally see the god he had just thrown away.
7.7
Alondra spent three hours making soup for her husband, only to find him at the hospital tenderly holding another woman's hand.
"I'm four weeks pregnant, Gerard," the woman said softly.
Gerard coldly handed Alondra a divorce agreement, claiming their three-year marriage was just a placeholder because this woman had once saved his life.
Heartbroken, Alondra fled in her car, only to realize her brakes had been completely disabled.
She spun out of control and crashed head-on into a massive delivery truck.
As she lay trapped in the mangled wreckage with her ribs crushed and blood filling her mouth, Gerard's black Maybach pulled up to the curb.
He stared at her dying body through the window with a completely blank expression.
He didn't call an ambulance or even open his door.
He simply rolled up his tinted window and drove away into the rain.
A raw, suffocating hatred burned in her chest, hotter than the pain in her shattered bones.
She couldn't understand how the man she had loved and served so devotedly could just coldly watch her die like a piece of trash.
Opening her eyes again, Alondra gasped for air.
She had returned to the exact morning two years ago, right before she was supposed to deliver that pathetic soup.
When Gerard walked in and threatened her with divorce, she didn't cry or beg.
"I agree. Let's divorce," she said calmly, packing her bags to reclaim her true identity as a billionaire heiress.
7.9
Erin woke up in her luxurious Fifth Avenue penthouse, three days after returning from the cold, sterile psychiatric hospital where her husband had locked her away.
On the night of their third anniversary, Crockett Winters came home smelling of his mistress's perfume, expecting his docile wife to serve him.
Instead of playing the obedient fool, Erin calmly exposed the million-dollar diamonds he had just bought for his lover.
Furious at her sudden defiance, Crockett tried to physically intimidate her, pinning her against a wall to reassert his dominance.
When his aggression failed, he threw a brutal divorce agreement on the table.
"Sign it, and you walk away with nothing. You can't survive without me, and you know it."
He sneered, convinced the ironclad prenup would terrify her. He thought her rebellion was just a pathetic, jealous tantrum, a desperate play for his attention while he continued to pamper his mistress.
He truly believed she was just a beautiful canary who would eventually crawl back to her gilded cage in tears.
But Erin didn't cry, and she didn't sign the papers.
Instead, she locked him out of the master suite and pulled out his unlimited Centurion card.
In a single night, she calmly spent ninety million dollars of his money to buy up prime real estate and hidden assets, taking the first step to build an empire that would completely destroy him.
8.8
I've always been the unwanted child-the invisible one. The rebel no one ever tried to understand.
And yet, I never resented my perfect, beloved sister. All I ever wanted was for her to be happy.
But one cruel twist of fate-and a devastating betrayal by someone I trusted-changed everything.
I woke up in a stranger's bed, losing the one thing I had guarded so carefully. Back then, I thought that was my greatest loss.
I was wrong.
Because not long after, my sister introduced me to her fiancé.
And the man standing in front of me... was the same stranger from that night.
Now he haunts me-day and night, in my dreams and in my waking hours. And just when I start to believe the nightmare might finally fade with the dawn, Alan walks back into my life.
This time, he has no intention of letting me forget.
Not the insult I dealt him.
...or that one unforgettable night.
9.7
Eleonora held the positive pregnancy test, trembling with fragile hope as she told her husband they were having a baby.
Instead of embracing her, Butler slapped the plastic stick away, his eyes cold and dead.
"You cheating whore," he spat, throwing a stack of papers at her face.
He didn't listen to her desperate pleas. He ordered his bodyguards to drag her out of their penthouse and lock her in a private hospital room.
Trapped and terrified, Eleonora watched in horror as Butler's mistress walked in with a wicked smile.
The mistress shoved a medical consent form, signed with Butler's unmistakable handwriting, right in front of Eleonora's face.
"This isn't just an abortion," the mistress sneered. "It's a full hysterectomy. You'll never have a child again."
Eleonora's heart shattered into pieces. She couldn't understand how the man she loved could be so cruel, willing to kill their unborn baby and mutilate her body over a fabricated lie.
Driven by pure maternal terror, she smeared her blood on the forged papers, set the hospital room on fire, and let the world believe she had burned to ashes.
Five years later, Eleonora returned to New York with her young son.
She was no longer the weak, broken girl who begged for mercy.
Walking into the Holloway Group boardroom in a flawless Dior suit, she slammed a legal document onto Butler's desk.
She was still his legal wife, and she was here to dismantle his empire piece by piece.