Reborn To Ruin My Billionaire Husband

Chapter 8

Word Count: 763 | Released on: 15/05/2026

and an air of perpetual stress, was laying out sw

his deep royal blue velvet for the t

at the velvet. "Oh, no," she whispered, her eyes wide with feigned distress. "Th

er expression caught between ann

ine through the item on her notepad. "C

xact moment, taking in th

on?" he boomed, his voice echoing in the la

gaze. "I just agreed to change the color scheme base

stalking toward her. "You're looking

gging on Damon's sleeve. "Damon, please don'

tion-it finally broke something inside Kirsten.

rously calm. "You want compassion? You want me t

planner looked like she wanted

nce for a beat. Then, his face contort

ng up to face him, her voice clear

ing into her jaw, forcing her to look at him. The pressure was immense, bordering on pain

bing her aching jaw. "To you, my feelin

"I am not getting a divorce. The Cooper name does not get dragged through a public sca

the papers were already filed. H

" she said, picking up her p

rned t

w a burning reminder. A cold clarity washed over her. She took a step back, creating distance. "

adrenaline began to fade, and her body started to shake. She tou

. The weak, pleading woman from her past life, the one who would

her phone and

on his guard. We need to move faster. I want you to start the finan

It will tip him off that this

solute certainty. "His ego is too big. He t

e straight to the pa

"I want to double the order of flowers. And hire the Philharmonic's stri

orget. The grand finale of Mr. and Mrs.

Chapter End

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Reborn To Ruin My Billionaire Husband

Lila Storm Romance

“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.”