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Reborn: A Wife's Vengeful Return

Chapter 2 

Word Count: 570    |    Released on: 04/07/2025

blood, the doctor's hollow words, "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Miller." The empty ache in my womb that never

d and unable to care for her child. He painted them as victims of the storm, homeless and helpless. He had appealed to my comp

t he was just a good man. I was a fool. I had welcomed the architects of my misery into my home, let them live off

he little girl, Chloe, was clinging to the base of our garden's retaining wall as the waves crashed around her. My house was on a cliff, well above the sur

mething!" Ethan's voic

lm, devoid of any emotion. It

ous life, I would have already been kicking off my shoes, getting re

nded, his voice rising. "She's

the kitchen. My heart was a block of ice in my chest. Every beat was a reminder of the l

lowing me. His little face was crumpled in a mask of confu

the normal panic of a child. It was something else. An aggressive, demanding quality that seemed too old for his nin

grabbing my hand. "We have

icion begin to form in my mind, a new layer of betrayal that

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Reborn: A Wife's Vengeful Return
Reborn: A Wife's Vengeful Return
“The antiseptic smell of the hospital and the relentless rain were the last things I remembered from my past life. That' s where it ended-my body hollowed by grief, my spirit eroded by depression after losing my baby in a hurricane. But on my deathbed, a final, cruel truth echoed from outside my room: my husband, Mark, and his childhood sweetheart, Lisa, conspired to destroy me. They admitted using their own daughter, Chloe, as bait in the storm, knowing my "bleeding heart" would save her, ensuring I' d miscarry and become a "barren mule." They rejoiced in how I' d raised Chloe, their daughter, completely oblivious to their monstrous scheme. I died with their laughter ringing in my ears, my last breath a ragged gasp of pure, undiluted hatred. Then, I gasped again, a deep, full breath. My eyes snapped open. I wasn' t dying. I was in my living room, the wind howling, a news anchor warning of a Category 8 hurricane. My hand flew to my stomach-a faint, familiar warmth. My baby was still there. I was still pregnant. I was alive, reborn to the day it all began. The trap was being set again. I knew who was out there, waiting to be "saved." My nine-year-old son, Ethan, tugged my sleeve, pointing with manufactured fear. "Mom, look! There's a little girl out there! In the water! She's going to drown!"”
1 Introduction2 Chapter 13 Chapter 24 Chapter 35 Chapter 46 Chapter 57 Chapter 68 Chapter 79 Chapter 810 Chapter 911 Chapter 10