Reborn and Riches

I had been married to Rick Clinton for five years, and we had tried every possible way to have a child, but nothing worked.

Later, Rick’s mistress, his secretary, became pregnant.

Rick proposed a divorce, but we couldn’t agree on the division of assets. The next day, I was murdered by my husband and his mistress.

Reborn a week before my death, I looked at the test results in my hand that confirmed Rick’s Azoospermia and smiled.

My mother-in-law, Judith, came home with the pregnant mistress, both of them looking like they had just returned from a shopping trip.

“Why aren’t you up yet to serve us drinks?” she demanded.

I didn’t know who this pregnant woman was and felt puzzled.

I poured some tea and placed it on the table.

Judith and the mistress burst into laughter, nearly falling over.

“This is Helen. She’s carrying Rick’s child. Hurry up and sign the divorce papers and get out of this house.”

Previously, Rick had only discussed the divorce privately with me. This time, his mother brought the mistress to humiliate me.

It was then I realized the real reason Rick wanted a divorce.

I had always ignored the traces left by other women on Rick, thinking that men would inevitably flirt a little with other women. I believed as long as I was still in the house, no mistress could pose a real threat to me.

But I was wrong. When a spark tried to ignite, it should be extinguished immediately.

Rick took out the divorce papers and tried to force me to sign them.

“Rick, you’re the one who cheated with your secretary, and now you’re trying to divorce me as if you’re in the right?”

I looked at the man I had once loved to my very core and felt that he was a complete stranger.

“I’m not like you. I’m prettier than you, and I’m not infertile.” She sneered.

I had been a beautiful woman once, pursued by many.

But after marriage, I stopped dressing up. Rick grew tired of me and started to resent me for looking older and less attractive.

“I suggest you sign the divorce papers so things won’t get ugly,” he threatened.

“I can agree to the divorce, but you’re at fault. Marital assets must be redistributed,” I replied.

Before I could finish speaking, Judith slapped me across the face.

“You’re married to my son for five years and you never became pregnant. A hen that can’t lay eggs is useless. You’re a worthless woman,” she spat. “The Clinton family needs a son to carry on the family legacy. You should’ve left this house long ago.”

My face burned with pain.

It turned out that not only Rick but even Judith had known about his affair with the mistress.

The mistress, Helen Milton, smiled sweetly and chimed in maliciously, “Exactly. You’re useless. You’d better pack up and give me your spot, you little tramp. If you don’t want to leave, you can stay as a housemaid. You can serve us. Such a job would suit you perfectly,” she added.

I looked at the three of them in front of me. They were so vile, so united, they truly looked like a family.

“Don’t even think about it. Unless I’m dead, I won’t sign this divorce agreement,” I said firmly.

Ever since the divorce talks started, Rick and I had been sleeping in separate rooms.

He left early and came home late, barely speaking to me at all.

We couldn’t agree on the division of our pre-marital assets, so I kept dragging things out. After all, as long as I didn’t divorce him, the mistress would always remain a mistress.

I wasn’t in a hurry, it was the pregnant mistress who was.

Because I had trouble sleeping, I had developed a habit of drinking a glass of milk before I went to bed every night.

After drinking the milk one evening, I felt dizzy and extremely unwell.

Soon, my breathing became rapid, and it grew worse and worse.

“Help… help me…” I tried to struggle, but my body wouldn’t move, as if I were sinking into quicksand, gradually becoming paralyzed.

In my haze, someone approached me and squatted down in front of me.

“If you had just signed the divorce agreement earlier, this wouldn’t have happened,” said Rick, showing no guilt.

He dragged me off the bed and toward the kitchen.

“Laura, this is all your own doing. Don’t blame me,” he said coldly.

“How foolish,” said Helen, gloating. “You’re a worthless woman and you still dream of holding a place in the Clinton family? What an idiot.”

Rick closed the doors and windows as I looked at him in despair.

They turned on the gas, trying to make it look like I had passed out and died from a gas leak in the kitchen.

My vision blurred, but the sounds around me grew sharper.

The only thing left was the television in the living room, playing a finance news segment.

It was an interview with a major investor. “The previously sluggish real estate market is about to see a bull run. Several stocks have already achieved…”