Reborn Twice The Billionaire's Wife Strikes Back

Two lifetimes. Both times, I married Dominic Calloway.

In every life, he sat at the top of the Calloway empire, untouchable.

And I was the wife his world demanded: poised, gracious, tireless. I managed the household and the business without complaint, exactly as the Henson family had raised me to be.

He used to hold me close, satisfaction dripping from every word.

"Ava Henson, you're the most sensible woman I know."

In my first life, he used that trust against me. He and his precious soulmate drained every asset I had, buried me under mountains of debt, and left me to rot in prison. I died in disgrace.

In my second life, I was smarter. I locked down the assets, convinced I could protect myself and the Henson family. But he implanted his and his soulmate's fertilized embryo into my womb. I carried their son. I ran their company. And when I was dying of illness, he waltzed in with her and the boy, took everything, and threw me away like garbage. Again.

Every lifetime, the script was the same.

"Ava, money is just material. You have the Calloway name. You have my love. Isn't that enough?"

"The Prescotts went bankrupt. Fiona needs the shares more than you do. As the man of this family, I should help her."

This third time around, I listened to the same vile lines and smiled.

"Of course, sweetheart. Whatever you say. Miss Prescott really is pitiful. If you want to help her, go right ahead."

After all, I was only here to collect what was owed to me. Who he handed the Calloway Group to was none of my damn business.

……

Dominic's car pulled into the driveway of the estate. I stood inside the foyer and didn't move.

Erica Lambert walked over, her voice low and careful.

"Ma'am, Mr. Calloway is home."

I blinked, my gaze drifting to the black luxury sedan parked beyond the window.

By habit, I should have gone out to greet him. Taken his coat, carried his briefcase, walked him into the living room. Then served the dinner I'd spent hours preparing, drawn his bath, adjusted the lamp in his study to the exact brightness he preferred.

I'd been the perfect wife for two entire lifetimes.

Flawless.

So flawless that even I had believed it. That I was simply born gentle. Born accommodating. Born to serve.

But this time, the thought of it made my stomach turn.

No amount of devotion could wring a real heart out of a man who didn't have one.

"Leave him."

I turned and headed for the stairs, my voice even. "I'm tired. I'm going to rest."

My footsteps didn't falter. The bedroom lock clicked open, and behind me, Dominic's gaze landed on my retreating back.

"Ava. I'm home."

I paused for half a second. Didn't turn around. Kept walking.

His voice shifted, edged with displeasure.

"Did you not hear me?"

Heavy footsteps climbed the stairs after me.

"What's gotten into you lately?"

He followed me into the bedroom, irritation threading through every syllable.

"You skip the family gatherings. You bail on the company gala. And now you can't even be bothered to acknowledge me when I walk through the door?"

"Nothing's gotten into me." My tone was flat. Almost amused. "I just realized there's no point anymore."

"No point?" His brow furrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

I lifted my head and looked him straight in the eyes. Two lifetimes as his wife. I'd told myself it wasn't just an arranged marriage. We'd grown up together, at least. Partners, if nothing else. But in the end, none of it mattered once his precious soulmate fell from the sky.

My gaze dropped to the red string tied around his wrist.

"Dominic. I want a divorce."

We'd only been married a year this time. I had plenty of road ahead of me, and I refused to waste another second tangled up with a man who wasn't worth the air he breathed.

Dominic Calloway stared at me, frozen, as if the words hadn't registered.

Of course. In his mind, I would always be that Ava. The one who saw the bigger picture. The one who compromised, who yielded, who forgave. The one who loved him like he was the only thing keeping her alive.

Divorce. The word coming out of my mouth must have sounded like a joke to him. Absurd. Impossible.

Three seconds passed.

The color drained from his face, replaced by something dark.