Reborn The Factory Director's Wife Wants a Divorce

Memories from my past life clawed at me. I smiled bitterly—this wasn't paranoia. This was experience.

Ever since my widowed sister-in-law Brooklyn moved in, everything I owned had slowly become hers. My barely-worn designer coat, the fabric coupons I'd saved for months—Justin handed them all over in the name of "family support."

Now he was desperate to prove he wasn't petty about some brown sugar. He had his subordinates haul in every gift from New York.

Imported toys. A set of luxurious cashmere coats.

The crowd gasped.

"Look at that cashmere! You can tell it's expensive just by looking."

The whispers shifted. "So she really is the Director's wife..."

Mocking gazes turned toward Brooklyn. She shot me a look of pure venom, then stormed off.

I ignored her. I just stared at that familiar coat—and that night, the nightmares returned.

In my previous life, I'd refused to give up the master bedroom after Brooklyn moved in. Justin and I fought viciously.

He called me a jealous shrew and locked me out. I spent the night shivering in below-freezing temperatures.

The brown sugar my aunt and uncle mailed? He gave that to Brooklyn too.

Even my favorite coat—the one sitting in the living room now—ended up hers. A few pitiful lies from her lips, and Justin handed it over.

Fighting became our daily routine. At first he tried coaxing me into submission. Eventually, his patience ran out.

The moment that truly broke me happened at the factory. I'd gone to bring him lunch.

When the massive chandelier crashed down, Justin didn't reach for me. Without hesitation, he threw himself over Brooklyn.

After I was discharged, I demanded a divorce. He warned me not to regret it.

He was right. A divorced woman was a pariah.

The Cultural Troupe fired me.

Then my son was diagnosed with a terminal illness. I swallowed my pride and begged Justin to use his money and connections to save our child.

He accused me of using my dying son to manipulate him.

When the hospital evicted us for non-payment, my son whispered that he wanted to see his daddy one last time.

Fighting back tears, I carried him to the Farley home. What we found: Justin, Brooklyn, and her son, laughing together like a perfect family.

My son stopped breathing before we left the gate.

I drank the rat poison I'd bought weeks earlier, tears streaming as I chased my son into the dark.

My last thought: If there's a next life, I'll never crave a man's love again. I only ask that my son lives.

I woke gasping, my pillow soaked with cold tears.

My son had already left for school. I forced myself up, washed my face, and rushed to the Cultural Troupe.

Today they'd announce the new lead dancer.

When the results were posted, silence fell.

The lead went to Brooklyn Simmons—a woman who hadn't attended a single rehearsal.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear with a modest, sickeningly sweet smile.

"I'm so sorry, Ava. I was just so bored at home. Justin wanted me to get out more, so he donated fifty pounds of rice, flour, and oil to the troupe..."

"So what if you have connections?" Daisy Abbott stepped forward, face flushed. "Ava dances circles around you! You're not even in the same league!"

Daisy wanted to scream for justice, but I grabbed her arm.

I was calm. Far calmer than anyone expected.

"Is that so?" My voice was steady. "Congratulations, sister-in-law."

I didn't care about the lead role. As long as my son lived, nothing else mattered.

The phone in my pocket rang.

The hospital. The doctor's voice was the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard—the bone marrow match was successful.

Relief hit so hard my knees nearly buckled.

As I passed Brooklyn on my way out, I leaned in close.

"He's just a man, Brooklyn. If you enjoy picking up my leftovers, be my guest."

I didn't wait for her reaction. I rushed out, desperate to reach the hospital.

In my haste, I missed the murderous glint in her eyes.

When I arrived, breathless and hopeful, I asked when we could schedule surgery.

The doctor wouldn't meet my eyes.

"Mrs. Farley... the donor... the bone marrow has been allocated to someone else."

The room spun. I couldn't believe what I was hearing.