Reborn on My Wedding Night:The Billionaire Bride's Revenge

Everyone said I was the luckiest woman alive, marrying into the Farley family—a dynasty that had stood for a century.

But on my wedding night, I ripped off my veil, walked straight into a nightclub, and ordered myself a pretty boy.

The next morning, I stood in front of everyone and announced I wanted a divorce.

Sylvester Farley, left alone all night, stood in the crowd. His face was murderous.

I just smiled. Bright and wide.

Because in my last life, I'd handed this man the crown jewels of my family's empire with both hands.

He'd promised me forever at the altar, then turned around and installed his little sweetheart in the company the very next day.

I fought for him tooth and nail in the boardroom. He walked out on an entire shareholder meeting just to pick her up from work.

The pathetic part? I actually believed it was just brotherly affection. I played the good sister-in-law like a fool, treating his precious girl like my own family.

Until Sylvester Farley tore Henson Corp apart from the inside out.

I ended up lying in a pool of my own blood, clutching the hem of his jacket with everything I had left.

"Was there even one second—one single second—where you actually loved me?"

He lowered his head and said nothing.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on my wedding night.

——

I died without ever getting an answer.

I swallowed the rage churning inside me and pinned a polished smile back on my face.

Making a scene now would be slapping both the Farley and Henson families across the face in public. The fallout would snowball into something unmanageable.

The reception finally ended.

Back at the bridal suite, I rested my hand on the door handle, about to push it open.

The light inside clicked off.

Exactly like last time.

I'd thought he was just tired and had gone to bed early. I'd even felt sorry for him, worried he'd been overworked.

He'd turned off the light on purpose. The message was simple: Don't come in.

I was stubborn back then. I pushed the door open anyway.

A single glass of water sat in the exact center of the bed.

Sylvester Farley wore a navy silk robe. He sat on the far side of the mattress, poised and elegant, like royalty holding court.

"Rose Henson. We both know what this marriage is."

"This is the line. Cross it, and I walk."

At the time, I actually admired him for it. Thought he was principled. A man of standards.

I told myself to be patient. Give it time. Feelings would grow.

That glass of water stayed on the bed for three years.

The rumors outside were relentless. People said Sylvester either had something wrong with him physically or simply didn't like women, and that he'd only married me to satisfy the family alliance.

He never denied any of it. Denying the rumors would only turn the spotlight on himself and anger Matriarch Farley.

And during that time, he did seem to thaw. A little.

He'd join me for breakfast occasionally. He'd send coffee to my office when I worked late. He even backed my proposals in board meetings.

I thought life would just continue like that.

Then the news came that Lucy Stephens was returning from overseas.

That day, I'd allowed myself a rare moment of peace. I sat in the piano room at home and played a Chopin nocturne.

He actually came in. Leaned against the doorframe and listened without a word.

When I finished, he walked over and said softly, "That was beautiful."

I looked up at him. For once, there was warmth in his eyes.

I leaned closer. He didn't pull away.

I kissed him. He didn't refuse.

In that moment, I believed everything was finally moving in the right direction.

Then his secretary burst through the door, breathless.

"Mr. Farley, Miss Stephens's plane just landed!"

Sylvester shoved me away.

Every trace of warmth vanished from his eyes. Gone, like it had never existed.

He didn't even stop to put on shoes. He ran out barefoot.

I stood in front of the piano like a discarded toy.