Reborn to Ruin the CEO,I Swapped the Bride and Let Him Beg

She was nothing like me.

I'd been raised to endure in silence. In my previous life, even after learning about Janet Fox's existence, I'd refused to make a scene.

A girlhood full of quiet longing had left me clinging to fantasies about Rhys—foolish hopes that marriage would change him, that he'd finally settle down.

Instead, Janet's schemes multiplied. She drove wedge after wedge between us until the distance became a chasm.

And in the end, she dragged both me and Joan straight to hell.

Joan held Rhys's gaze without flinching. Her voice cut like a blade: "Keep her around, and you spit in my family's face. So tell me—is this engagement still happening or not?"

Rhys's expression darkened. He turned to Joan with barely concealed irritation.

"You grew up in this world. Why are you being so petty? Men have women on the side. Everyone does it."

Then he pivoted to me, his tone softening into something almost coaxing. "Honestly, I think I still prefer you, Ursula."

I lowered my eyes.

Prefer me. What a joke. He didn't want me—he wanted a well-behaved ornament. A wife who'd stay silent at home while he planted his flag wherever he pleased.

I lifted my gaze to meet his, and I understood exactly what he was waiting for.

He wanted me to fight for him. To scramble for the position of his fiancée so that all the whispers and humiliation would land on my shoulders instead.

"Rhys." My voice came out steady, loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. "I already made my position clear. I'm stepping aside."

I paused, letting the words settle.

"Your mother and Joan both spoke plainly. A marriage alliance concerns two families' reputations. This isn't children playing house—you don't just swap brides on a whim."

Rhys's face flushed crimson. His knuckles went white around the edge of a nearby table, but no retort came.

Mrs. Gilbert stepped in smoothly, her smile never wavering.

"I won't meddle in young people's affairs. Sort it out yourselves." Her gaze sharpened. "But understand this: the Gilbert family's bride will come from either the Pruitts or the Hensons. No exceptions."

The banquet wound down. Neither Joan nor I spared Rhys another glance as we headed for the parking garage.

I'd just pulled open my car door when Rhys's footsteps caught up. He stepped in front of me, blocking my path.

"Ursula, what's gotten into you tonight?" He gripped the door frame, leaning in. "Everyone knows you've been in love with me since we were kids. You said it yourself—you'd never marry anyone else."

I studied his anxious face, and unbidden, memories surfaced.

The night his stomach ulcer flared—I'd sat beside his bed until dawn.

When rivals sabotaged him in a business deal—I'd begged my father to call in favors and bail him out.

Every time he frowned, I'd turned the mirror on myself, wondering where I'd fallen short.

Until the kidnapping.

The kidnappers' leering grins. His impatient sighs over the phone. And finally—the flat, dead tone of a disconnected line.

While my body grew cold on that warehouse floor, he was tangled in Janet Fox's sheets.

"I didn't know any better back then." I pulled my hand free, my voice calm. "Now I do. If I stop fighting for you, you won't have to feel torn anymore. Everyone wins."

Something flickered in Rhys's eyes—panic, maybe. He reached for me again.

"Ursula, let's talk about this—"

A butler came rushing toward us, breathless.

"Young Master! There's been an incident. Miss Fox and Miss Henson both fell into the lake. They're shouting at each other!"

Rhys's face went cold. "Unbelievable. Have they no sense?"

For a split second, I thought he meant Janet—that her showing up here at all was the problem.

Then he spat out the rest.

"This is obviously Joan bullying her! Janet's timid and innocent. She'd never survive that woman's viciousness." His lip curled. "Absolute shrew."

Every word dripped with bias, as if he'd already witnessed Janet weeping and wronged.

It had been the same in our last life.

The moment Janet cried, the whole world became her villain.

Back when Rhys and I were still together, she'd summon him at will. I'd be burning with fever; he'd be watching fireworks with her. My birthday would come; he'd be sharing street food at her favorite stall.

A bitter ache spread through my chest—not for him, but for the foolish girl I used to be, waiting and hoping for scraps.

And Joan? She'd been just as blind.