Reborn To Ruin My Billionaire Husband

I died on the cold delivery table, bleeding out while the heart monitor flatlined.

Through the blinding surgical lights, I heard my husband Damon's cold, final order to the doctors.

"The child is the priority."

He didn't care about my life. To him, I was just a vessel to produce an heir, a tool to fulfill his prenuptial clause and secure his billionaire empire.

While I took my last agonizing breath, he was already planning his future with his fragile, theatrical mistress, Jasmin.

In my past life, when he first brought her into our home claiming she was a helpless victim, I shattered.

I screamed, threw vases, and played the hysterical wife perfectly.

My desperate pleas for his affection only gave him the exact weapons he needed to ruin my reputation, isolate me, and ultimately force me onto that fatal delivery bed.

Until my very last moment, the suffocating pain in my chest wasn't just physical.

I couldn't understand how the man I loved could treat my death like a simple business transaction.

Why was my absolute devotion rewarded with a carefully calculated execution?

But then, my eyes snapped open.

I was sitting on the edge of my king-sized bed, exactly three years before my death.

From downstairs, I heard Damon's voice echoing in the foyer, bringing Jasmin into our home for the very first time.

This time, the scream building in my chest turned to ice.

I didn't cry or throw a fit.

Instead, I calmly swallowed a secret birth control pill, smiled at his mistress, and dialed the most ruthless divorce lawyer in Manhattan.