Reborn to Reject You

Reborn to Reject You

Shui Qingying

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I woke up with a gasp, my head pounding, in Ethan Reed's opulent penthouse. Another one of his infamous parties, and he was slumped, reeking of alcohol, calling out someone else' s name. Then he mumbled, "Call... call my angel. Call Chloe." My blood ran cold. This was it. The exact moment. The one I' d lived and died to escape. In my first life, my stupid, desperate love for him – my guardian – led me to seize his drunken vulnerability. That night, I "comforted" him. It led to a scandalous pregnancy, a forced marriage, and his true love' s death in a car crash on our wedding day. Ethan blamed me for everything. He transformed into a monster, and when I went into labor, he watched me bleed out, whispering hateful words as I died. "This is for Chloe," he' d hissed. I spent my entire previous life trapped, tormented, and discarded for a love that was a lie. How could I have been so blind, so foolish? The injustice of it burned. But this time, I was lucid. This time, I had my memories. My hands were steady as I reached for my phone, found Chloe Vance's number, and pressed call. This time, I wouldn't seek his love. I would shatter his perfect life and gain my own freedom.

Introduction

I woke up with a gasp, my head pounding, in Ethan Reed's opulent penthouse. Another one of his infamous parties, and he was slumped, reeking of alcohol, calling out someone else' s name.

Then he mumbled, "Call... call my angel. Call Chloe." My blood ran cold. This was it. The exact moment. The one I' d lived and died to escape.

In my first life, my stupid, desperate love for him – my guardian – led me to seize his drunken vulnerability. That night, I "comforted" him. It led to a scandalous pregnancy, a forced marriage, and his true love' s death in a car crash on our wedding day. Ethan blamed me for everything. He transformed into a monster, and when I went into labor, he watched me bleed out, whispering hateful words as I died. "This is for Chloe," he' d hissed.

I spent my entire previous life trapped, tormented, and discarded for a love that was a lie. How could I have been so blind, so foolish? The injustice of it burned.

But this time, I was lucid. This time, I had my memories. My hands were steady as I reached for my phone, found Chloe Vance's number, and pressed call. This time, I wouldn't seek his love. I would shatter his perfect life and gain my own freedom.

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The first sign was a hotel receipt I didn' t recognize, crumpled in my husband' s suit pocket, for an "Ocean View Suite" for two. He was supposed to be at a tech conference that night. The next evening, I followed him. He left his office building with a woman, his new assistant, Chloe Davis. They were laughing, and his hand was on the small of her back as they entered a fancy downtown restaurant. I watched them inside, looking like a couple in love. When I stumbled and dropped my purse outside, I heard Chloe say, "She' ll never find out, Mark. She' s too trusting." And Mark replied, "I know. But Ava… she' s sensitive." "Sensitive." The word felt like a slap. I confronted them, only for Mark to defend Chloe, who feigned illness and leaned on him. Then I saw it: my fifth-anniversary gift, an architect' s compass, dangling from Chloe' s neck. A sharp pain shot through my abdomen. I was three months pregnant. Mark chose her, shielding her as if I were the threat. I collapsed, blood pooling on the pavement, my baby gone. He had killed our child. Yet, in the hospital, he sided with Chloe again, letting her lie about her miscarriage, then using my dog, Daisy, to force my apology. Why did he abandon me so utterly, so cruelly? How could the man I loved destroy everything we had built, and then blame me? I was lost, but a new resolve sparked within me. I was not alone. My loyal Daisy, waiting at home, was my last pure comfort. I called my lawyer and asked for divorce papers.

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For five years, I chased my husband Liam' s love, a tech mogul I deeply adored. Then, after three incredible nights where I finally felt like his wife, I stumbled upon a chat on his computer. It was with my sister, Chloe, and it revealed a horrifying truth: those intimate moments were a cruel setup. Liam recorded them, sent them to Chloe, and messaged, "This way she' ll finally leave me alone. Don' t worry, Chloe, I' d rather die than touch her. You' re the only one I love." My world shattered. An audio file played Chloe' s sweet voice, "Oh, Liam, I' m so touched! You found so many people to mess with her just to protect my reputation?" So many people? Liam' s reply sickened me: "She' s so loose, it' s a blessing anyone would touch her. Besides, I have all the compromising photos and videos, so she can' t blame anyone even if she knows." The man who held me for three days wasn' t Liam. He sent strangers. I fled, my body screaming contamination, only to have Chloe, wearing Liam' s shirt, block my entry back home. "Liam was just adding my face to the system, and I think I accidentally deleted yours. My bad," she smirked. Liam emerged, his voice flat, "Chloe needs this room. It' s closer to me." He ordered me to a distant guest room, then handed me a pill. "Take this. I' m not ready for kids yet." It hit me: he worried I' d get pregnant with a stranger's child-a child he' d arranged. Later, listening to their laughter from the master bedroom, rage simmered. Then Chloe, wearing Liam' s sacred bracelet, whispered close, "Every month, he spends a week with me at a secluded resort. That' s our special time… He even says he feels sick when he sees you at home." Before I could react, she scratched my arm, drawing blood. "Ava, you bitch, stop pretending! I hate your pitiful act! I want to take everything from you!" She shoved me, a vase shattered, leaving a gaping wound on my arm. Liam rushed down, sweeping Chloe into his arms. "Chloe, does it hurt? I' ll take you to the hospital." He saw her nails' marks but blamed me. "Ava, you' re still so manipulative! You' ve always framed Chloe!" he roared. "Go to the basement tonight. Don' t come out until you' ve copied a hundred books!" He stepped over my prostrate body, crushing my arm. Bleeding, broken, I crawled to the ER. "No anesthesia," I told the doctor. "I want to remember this. I want to remember the pain." I needed every stitch to burn away my foolish love. I signed the divorce papers. Back in the mansion, trapped in the basement, I heard fireworks. Liam was celebrating Chloe' s "recovery." Five days later, Chloe feigned reconciliation, offering me tea. Liam forced my mouth open and poured the scalding liquid down my throat. My flesh screamed. I woke in a hospital, my throat ruined, my face Liam' s only concern. "Don' t worry," he told me, "Your face won' t scar." My face. Not my voice. Not the agony. I croaked, "Let me go." He hung up, leaving me to call my lawyer: Deliver the papers. Relief washed over Liam when I handed him two documents. He quickly signed, thinking I wanted property, not realizing the divorce agreement lay beneath. My phone rang moments after he left for Chloe. A headline screamed, "Socialite Scandal: Architect Ava Miller' s Wild Lifestyle Exposed, Intimate Photos Leaked." My private photos. My voice raw, I called 911. The IP address traced to Chloe. Liam' s call came, "Ava, are you crazy? Chloe was just messing around, it didn' t even hurt you. Do you have to be so petty?" He still thought I didn' t know the truth. He warned, "I' ve already had the case dropped. No one in this city will take your case now." My mother called, screaming, "You' ve disgraced our entire family! If you don' t apologize to her immediately, you are no longer our daughter!" "I won' t be your daughter anymore," I replied, then hung up. At the airport, Liam messaged: "I' ll give you a child." I sent him the signed divorce agreement. "Liam, I won' t bother you anymore. I' ll make way for you two." I boarded the plane, leaving him, my family, and my shattered past behind.

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The Code Monkey's Revenge

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I poured five years of my life into Nexus, the social media giant, building its very soul from lines of code in my quiet apartment. The world knew my live-in boyfriend, Mark Davis, as the CEO of ConnectCorp, the charismatic face of our success, but they didn't know I was the genius behind the curtain. On the eve of our IPO, a critical server failure threatened to derail everything, which I, Ava Chen, single-handedly fixed, only for the doorbell to ring. It was Chloe Miller, my college rival and Mark' s new Head of Product, who sauntered in uninvited, her smile as sharp as her designer suit, to tell me my contract was "terminated, effective immediately." Fired? It was impossible, I was Nexus, the very heart of the company. My call to Mark rang once, then Chloe answered on another phone, locking eyes with me as she faked distress for her "call with Mark," accusing me of aggression. "You' re his mistress," the horrifying realization hit me with the force of a physical blow, confirmed by her cruel smirk and the photo of Mark and me she turned face down. Outside, a crowd of ConnectCorp employees gathered, pointing and whispering, eager witnesses to my public humiliation, confirming my worst fears. Then Mark' s car screeched up, and he stormed out, ignoring me to pull Chloe into a theatrical embrace before yelling, "What the hell did you do, Ava?" Before I could explain, his hand flew through the air, connecting with my cheek, the crack echoing through the silent street. The man I loved, the man I built an empire for, had just publicly slapped me for his mistress. "You' re just the code monkey who got replaced," he sneered, joining Chloe' s cruel laugh as the crowd cheered my downfall. It was in that moment, stripped of everything, that a cold, hard resolve solidified within me. When Mark, attempting a final insult, offered me our old, dilapidated apartment as severance, I grasped the USB holding Nexus' s un-uploaded core. "There' s your data," I declared, throwing the drive to their feet, forcing them to scramble like dogs. Then I walked out, leaving the life I built behind, burning it all down for a chance at true liberation.

The Road of A Unwanted Wife To Her True Home

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5.0

The first time I saw proof of my husband' s affair, it wasn' t some hushed secret, but splashed across the internet for everyone to see. Grainy paparazzi photos showed Ethan Carter, the formidable head of Carter Industries, at a parent-child carnival, dressed in a ridiculous bear mascot costume, holding a little boy' s hand and smiling at the woman beside him. That woman was Isabella, his ex-fiancée, and the boy was their son, Leo. They looked like the perfect family. My first instinct was to call my PR team to scrub the photos, but Ethan had already beaten me to it, making them vanish, a stark reminder that our marriage was nothing more than a strategic business merger. Then, they arrived at my doorstep: Ethan, Isabella, and Leo-a picture-perfect trio, while I, his legal wife, stood an outsider in my own home. Leo, a three-year-old, kicked my shin and shrieked, "You stole my dad!" Ethan, instead of chastising his son, turned his icy gaze on me and declared, "He' s just a child. Besides, Isabella raised him alone all these years. I owe her." His words cut deeper than any physical blow. In three years of marriage, he had never once scolded me, yet now, he defended his ex-fiancée and her child against me, his wife, with a chilling coldness. That night, Isabella, with a triumphant smirk, flaunted a hickey, whispering, "As long as Leo is around, Ethan and I can never truly be cut apart. Give him back to me." My composure cracked, replaced by a cold, searing rage. Love? For people like us, it was the most insignificant thing in the world. Three strikes, Ethan. You' re out.

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