Reborn Heiress: Divorcing My Ruthless Husband

The sharp, chemical stench of medical bleach violently forced its way into her nasal cavity.

Alaya gasped, her lungs expanding so rapidly her ribs ached. She jolted up from the suffocating darkness, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.

She snapped her eyes open. The blinding glare of the surgical lights above the bed seared her retinas, blurring her vision for a few agonizing seconds. A tearing pain ripped through the back of her skull.

Then, the memories hit her. They did not come back as thoughts, but as a physical avalanche. She felt the freezing rain soaking through her clothes. She heard the deafening roar of the Hewitt Corporation building collapsing into rubble. She felt the exact moment the life drained out of her body on that wet asphalt. Her breath stopped entirely.

Her right hand shot downward, acting on pure, terrified instinct. Her fingers grabbed at the thin fabric of the hospital gown, pressing hard against her stomach.

It was flat.

The physical emptiness beneath her palm-the absolute absence of the six-month-old life that had been growing inside her-yanked her violently back to the present.

A specific image flashed behind her eyes. Hardy. Her husband. Standing in the rain, his broad shoulders shielding Kelsi Warner as he guided the young woman into a warm car, leaving Alaya to bleed out on the street.

Alaya bit down on her lower lip. She bit down so hard her teeth cut through the delicate skin. The metallic, rusty taste of her own blood flooded her tongue. It was the only thing keeping her from screaming until her throat tore.

She looked down at her left hand. A thick IV needle was taped to the back of it, pumping clear fluid into her vein.

She reached over and ripped the needle out in one brutal, unhesitating motion.

Dark venous blood immediately welled up, spilling over her knuckles and dripping onto the pristine white hospital sheets. She stared at the bright red stains blooming on the fabric. She felt absolutely no physical pain from the torn vein.

She threw the blankets off and swung her legs over the edge of the mattress. She stumbled forward. Her bare feet hit the freezing marble floor. The cold shot straight up her legs and settled deep in her chest.

She pushed through the bathroom door and gripped the edges of the porcelain sink. Her knuckles turned completely white. She stared into the mirror.

The woman looking back at her was pale, her dark hair tangled, but her face was young. The deep lines of exhaustion and despair from her final days were gone. She was back. She had returned to a point three years before her tragic death.

The bathroom door was pushed open wider. A nurse carrying a metal tray stepped into the room. The woman saw the blood trailing across the floor and dropped the tray. It hit the tiles with a deafening clatter.

"Mrs. Suarez!" The nurse rushed forward, reaching out to grab Alaya's arm.

Alaya slapped the woman's hands away. The slap echoed sharply against the tiled walls.

She turned her head. Her eyes were as sharp and cold as shattered glass. "What is the exact date today?" her voice came out as a harsh, guttural rasp.

The nurse shrank back, visibly shaking under the sheer weight of Alaya's stare. "It... it's Thursday, October 14th. You've been unconscious for three days since the car accident."

Alaya closed her eyes. A single, freezing tear slid down her cheek and dropped off her chin. It was real. This absurd, twisted second chance was real.

The nurse scrambled backward and slammed her hand against the red emergency button on the wall. A piercing alarm immediately shattered the dead silence of the VIP ward.

Less than a minute later, heavy footsteps rushed down the hallway. Agnes, the senior nanny who had worked for the Hewitt family for two decades, burst into the room, followed closely by a doctor in a white coat.

Agnes had red, swollen eyes. She lunged toward Alaya with her arms wide open. "Oh, my poor girl! The baby... the poor baby!"

Agnes tried to pull Alaya into a tight hug.

Alaya's entire body went rigid. Her muscles locked like iron. She did not raise her arms to return the embrace. Instead, she stared at the side of Agnes's face with the cold detachment of someone observing a stranger.

She placed her hands flat against Agnes's shoulders and shoved the older woman away. The push was hard enough to make Agnes stumble backward.

Alaya walked past them, her bare feet leaving faint red smudges on the floor. She sat down on the edge of the hospital bed and looked straight at the doctor.

"Where is Hardy Suarez?" she demanded. Her voice held zero emotion.

The air in the room instantly froze. Agnes looked away, her hands nervously twisting the bottom of her apron. She refused to make eye contact.

The doctor cleared his throat, shifting his weight uncomfortably. "Mr. Suarez is currently handling an emergency cross-border merger and acquisition for the corporation. He..."

Alaya looked down at the blood drying on her fingertips. A low, chilling laugh scraped its way out of her throat.

She knew exactly where that "merger and acquisition" was happening. He was currently lying in a cheap bed in a Brooklyn art studio, comforting his precious Kelsi.

In her past life, she had spent this exact hour sobbing hysterically, begging the doctors to call her husband, begging for his love. Right now, her stomach churned violently. A wave of pure nausea washed over her.

She snapped her head up and glared at the doctor. "Inject me with a long-acting painkiller. Right now."

She needed her brain to be absolutely clear for the war that was about to start.

The doctor frowned. "Mrs. Suarez, medical protocol dictates that we monitor your natural pain levels after a trauma of this-"

"I am the majority shareholder of the Hewitt Corporation," Alaya cut him off, her voice slicing through the room like a scalpel. "If you do not push that medication into my IV in the next thirty seconds, I will personally ensure you never practice medicine in this state again."

The doctor swallowed hard. He nodded quickly to the nurse, who scrambled to prepare a syringe.

The cold liquid pushed into her vein. Alaya leaned back against the pillows. She reached out and grabbed the latest smartphone resting on the bedside table.

She tapped the screen. It was completely clean. There were zero missed calls. Zero text messages from her husband. It perfectly validated the cold-blooded reality she remembered.

She opened her contacts list. Her thumb hovered over the name saved as "Husband."

She stared at the delete button for one full second.

Instead of deleting it, she tapped the edit icon. She typed in "Social Climber." Then, she toggled the switch to put the contact on 'Do Not Disturb'.

Heavy, measured footsteps echoed in the hallway outside. The faint, distinct scent of cedarwood cologne drifted under the doorframe.

The heavy soundproof door was pushed open. Hardy stepped into the room. He wore a custom-tailored dark suit. His face was a mask of absolute stone.

He stopped at the foot of the bed. His dark eyes locked directly onto Alaya's.