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Reborn to Crush the Wife Who Killed Me Novel Cover

Reborn to Crush the Wife Who Killed Me

After three years of enduring a deceptively perfect marriage, a dying man is left to perish by his wife, Sarah Delgado. She reveals their entire relationship was a cruel scheme orchestrated to avenge his friend, Simon. Filled with hatred, he dies on the operating table, only to wake up on the exact day of their initial matchmaking setup. Armed with future knowledge, he prepares to dismantle her web of lies and unleash his ultimate revenge.
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Chapter 2

The moment I got back to my place, I started packing. The farther I could get from Sarah Delgado, the better.

That was when the doorbell rang. Sarah stood outside, holding a folder.

"Mr. Kaufman, I think we need to talk."

I moved to shut the door, but her hand shot out and held it open.

"Your father's company. Don't you want to know what's happening to it?"

I stopped.

My father's company was the only thing I still cared about.

In my previous life, after we married, she'd taken full control of it. In the end, every last asset had been handed over to Simon Simmons as a betrothal gift.

I kept my expression flat and let her in.

Sarah tossed the folder onto the coffee table.

"The company's cash flow has collapsed. Without a capital injection in three days, it goes into liquidation."

"And right now, I'm the only one who can put up that kind of money."

I turned to look at her.

"What's the catch?"

Sarah leaned in close.

"Marry me."

I couldn't help it. I laughed.

"Sarah, what could you possibly want from me?"

"You. I want you."

She was good at this act. But I'd already died once. I would never fall for that line again.

I picked up the folder and tore it clean in half.

"Then let it go bankrupt."

"I'd sooner beg on the streets than marry you."

The second she left, I called the company's finance department to verify.

The situation was worse than she'd described. Not only had the cash flow dried up, but several massive debts were about to come due. Someone had clearly been pulling strings behind the scenes.

Who else could it be but Sarah?

She'd stop at nothing to force me to submit. The playbook was identical to my past life. First, engineer a crisis from the shadows. Then swoop in as the savior, so I'd fall at her feet in gratitude.

Not this time.

I listed my apartment for sale. I pawned every piece of jewelry I owned. I even reached out to former rivals, offering to sell my shares at a steep discount.

Every single one of them refused to see me.

Regina Henson had put the word out: anyone who helped me was openly declaring war on the Henson Group.

Morgan called to talk me down.

"Roland, would it kill you to bend a little?"

"Sarah's crazy about you. She went to Regina on her knees for your sake."

"You marry her, the company's saved, you've got a good life ahead of you. Everybody wins. What's the problem?"

I hit the end-call button and blocked his number.

Three days later, the court summons arrived.

I sat in my empty rental, staring at the bare walls.

The door swung open. Sarah stood in the doorway, umbrella in hand.

"Roland, stop fighting this."

She walked toward me and looked down from above.

"All you have to do is say yes, and all of this goes away."

I lifted my head and met her eyes.

"Sarah, do you honestly think that if you back someone into a corner and then toss them a scrap of mercy, they'll worship the ground you walk on?"

Her brow creased.

"I'm just trying to help you."

"Help me? By cutting off every escape route I had?"

I stood and closed the distance between us.

"By having Regina blacklist me?"

Sarah's hand shot up and seized my jaw, her fingers digging in hard.

"Roland, my patience has limits."

"You will marry me. There is no other option."

I let a slow smile spread across my face.

"Fine. I'll marry you."

Sarah blinked. She clearly hadn't expected me to agree so easily.

Her grip loosened. That carefully rehearsed softness slid back into her eyes.

"There. That's better."

"I'll give you a proper wedding."

I said nothing. The memories of my past life's wedding were still razor-sharp: the ceremony, the wedding night, the hired escort waiting in our bed.

I would never make that mistake again.

Agreeing was nothing more than a means to an end. I needed the capital injection.

The moment that money hit the account, I was gone.

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