Chapter 1What I Truly Want to Do

The day I found out I was pregnant, the 60-year-old billionaire who kept me, Arthur Howard, was at the hospital with his son and daughter-in-law for their prenatal check-up.

When he saw me, he showed no concern. Instead, he told me to get rid of the baby.

For the sake of the Howard family's rightful heir, he said, the bloodline couldn't be tainted.

I didn't cry or protest. I simply walked into the clinic for the procedure.

I did it because in my past life, I fought tooth and nail to keep this child, and Arthur hated me for it. The day before he died, he even demanded I be buried with him. His descendants treated my son like a workhorse, a slave. In the end, I died at the foot of his cold, granite tombstone.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on that very day, the day he told me to have an abortion.

This time, I was the one who brought it up first.

"Don't you worry," I said with a placid smile. "I'll take the best care of your son."

* * *

As I died, I finally saw the truth.

Charles Howard had never loved me. He loved only himself, and the heir who carried on his corrupted legacy.

"Anna, darling," Arthur had said in my past life, his voice smooth as aged whiskey. "I won't be able to come with you for the procedure. My precious grandson needs me, you see. And a man of my standing... well, it wouldn't do to be seen. You're so understanding. You'll get it, won't you?"

It was always the same. In public, Arthur Howard and I never appeared in the same frame.

I suppressed the tsunami of hatred rising in my chest and replied with the practiced gentleness he expected. "I can go by myself. You should take care of yourself, too."

He nodded, pleased. He had always prized my obedience.

"Anna, keep this quiet, won't you? Don't let a soul know, especially not my son. If he were to get the wrong idea... it wouldn't be good for you. After all, you're the one who's going to be with me for the rest of my life."

"After my grandson is born," he'd added, "I'll marry you."

After six years together, it was the first time he'd ever mentioned marriage.

But this time, I didn't want it.

In three days, I would be done with him forever.

On my way to work, I stopped by a service and hired a private nurse to assist me post-procedure.

The moment I stepped into the office, I saw Arthur bustling in with bags of fresh vegetables and prime cuts of meat.

In my last life, when I was burning up with a fever and begged for a simple bowl of soup, he never once stepped into the kitchen for me.

"I'm sixty years old," he'd scoffed. "You really expect me to wait on a thirty-year-old woman?"

I ended up dragging my limp body to the hospital alone. My hands were so weak that I spilled the scalding soup all over my hand, leaving a nasty scar that never faded.

But seeing him today, I realized the truth. It wasn't that he couldn't cook for someone. He just wouldn't cook for me.

Swallowing down my bitterness and the gnawing hunger in my stomach, I pushed open the door to the CEO's office.

There, on the plush sofa, sat Arthur's daughter-in-law, Victoria. Her belly was barely showing, yet she was delicately nibbling on exotic, imported fruit. And here I was, summoned back to the office on a weekend without even having had breakfast.

"Oh, Anna! I'm so sorry to drag you back here on your day off," Victoria chirped, her voice dripping with faux sweetness.

Arthur poked his head out from the kitchenette, his expression all business as he looked at me, but his voice softened as he turned to Victoria. "This company will belong to my darling grandson one day. Forget a weekend, if she were on her deathbed, she'd have to crawl here for him."

Victoria shot me a triumphant smirk, clutching her stomach and whining that she was hungry.

But for all his effort, Arthur could only make broth. He was completely lost when it came to actual cooking. The billionaire tycoon was sweating, utterly flustered. He saw me and immediately barked an order.

"Make lunch. My grandson is hungry."

I glanced at the beautiful sea bass in his hands—my favorite. I said nothing.