My Ex-Wife Wants Me Back

I am the only son of the Jacobs family. However, the price of my family's hundred-billion-dollar fortune was being kidnapped three times before I turned ten.

My father assigned me a hundred bodyguards. Even going to school required a convoy of three bulletproof cars.

"Choose a wife—someone who can stay by your side day and night," my father said.

Without hesitation, I chose Hazel, the gentlest woman I knew. But on our wedding day, she dismissed all my bodyguards, and I was kidnapped.

I was tied to a rooftop, and a man in a mask tightly pressed a knife against my throat.

On the other end of the phone, Hazel sneered coldly, “Andrew, do you think this is funny? You had thugs bully Dylan. He’s the real victim here. Who are you putting on this show for?”

“I simply had your bodyguards protect him around the clock. I wanted you to taste fear for once.”

I counted the chimes of the rooftop clock.

With every hour, I lost a finger.

Eventually, my blood ran dry, and my heart died with it.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the day when I was told to choose a wife.

My father still held the same eight photos in his hand.

This time, my finger brushed past Hazel without hesitation and pointed to a face in the corner with a lazy, mocking, and a hint of mischief in her gaze.

But my father said, "That one is already dead."

——

I stared at the eight photos, my hand unwavering as it passed over Hazel’s soft and delicate smile, landing squarely on the bottom photo—a girl with tanned skin and a languid grin.

Dad was stunned. "Andrew, didn’t you always like Hazel? Why choose Eleanor?"

My fists clenched, veins bulging.

Eleanor had always been the star of the school athletics team, a social butterfly in the elite circles of New York.

Her skin was sun-kissed from racing tracks and club lights.

She practically lived on racetracks and in nightclubs, always surrounded by charming, high-profile men. My father couldn’t stand her wild lifestyle. Before she even graduated from university, he sent her off to a remote mountain village with a meaningless, dead-end assignment—just to get rid of her.

But I remembered—on that rooftop in my past life, as my blood dripped away and I leapt from the edge, the last thing I saw was Eleanor’s face, frantic, charging toward me like a madwoman.

Her face was twisted with terror and heartbreak.

“She’s the one,” I said, my voice trembling.

Dad frowned and pulled out his phone, flipping through his contacts—then stopped awkwardly as he fell silent.

He didn’t even have her number saved.

How ironic. All eight girls were his “adopted daughters,” yet Eleanor wasn’t even worth a contact name.

The assistant’s call came back quickly.

“Chairman, Eleanor died last month in Sapphire Village. She was caught in a landslide.”

Dad sighed, “Andrew, choose someone else. Hazel actually—”

“I’m not choosing anyone else,” I stood abruptly, my throat tightened. “If it’s not Eleanor, then I want no one.”

In my last life, those so-called “sisters” fawned over Hazel’s cousin or stood by laughing at my misery.

This time, I’d rather grow old alone than let their fake kindness stab me in the back again.

I stumbled out of the office, Eleanor’s final look etched in my mind.

If even she was gone—who in this world would fight for me?

Suddenly, a cold hand grabbed my wrist, hard.

I looked up and realized it was Hazel.

Dylan stood beside her, leaning slightly against her. His thin and pale, red-rimmed eyes were full of sorrow like he had suffered some great injustice.

Hazel’s expression was gentle, but her tone was cold and firm.

“Andrew, Dylan’s health isn’t great. That hot spring villa under your name is just sitting there. Let him stay for a few days and recover. He’s been having insomnia and coughing nonstop.”

In the past, I would’ve softened and agreed.

But not this time.

I merely glanced at them and clicked my tongue. “I don’t agree.”

Then I dialed my assistant directly. “Lock down the villa. Don’t let any strays sneak in.”