Reborn to be Truly Loved

Nine years ago, Charlotte Green willingly bound herself to a companionship system to save her sister.

The system guided her to the side of Eric Lorvis, a man adored by fate and envied by the world. Her role, as dictated, was to pursue him under the guise of being mute.

Before long, everyone in their social circle knew of the mute woman who loved Eric with a fervor bordering on madness.

At a gathering one evening, he finally relented. "If you make yourself look like Emily, I'll allow you to stay by my side."

Without hesitation, Charlotte borrowed money to undergo plastic surgery. She reshaped herself to resemble Emily Spencer—Eric's first love. With painstaking precision, she molded her preferences to match his, learned to cook his favorite dishes, and catered to his every need.

Yet to him, she was no more than a housekeeper. He neither hid his disdain nor spared her his indifference. His insults, his cold stares—she bore them all in silence. She didn't care. As long as she fulfilled her task, the day would come when she could finally leave this world behind.

However, when Charlotte truly died, the cold and aloof Eric, who had always appeared so composed in front of others, lost his mind...

Nine years ago, Charlotte Green willingly bound herself to a companionship system to save her sister. The system guided her to the side of Eric Lorvis, a man adored by fate and envied by the world. Her role, as dictated, was to pursue him under the guise of being mute.

Before long, everyone in their social circle knew of the mute woman who loved Eric with a fervor bordering on madness.

At a gathering one evening, he finally relented, though his words were as cold as the winter wind.

"If you make yourself look like Emily, I'll allow you to stay by my side."

Without hesitation, Charlotte borrowed money to undergo plastic surgery. She reshaped herself to resemble Emily Spencer—the woman Eric revered as his untouchable ideal. With painstaking precision, she molded her preferences to match his, learned to cook his favorite dishes, and catered to his every need.

Yet to him, she was no more than a housekeeper. He neither hid his disdain nor spared her his indifference. His insults, his cold stares—she bore them all in silence. She didn't care. As long as she fulfilled her task, the day would come when she could finally leave this world behind.

...

It was 1 a.m., and Charlotte sat in the living room, waiting. She had been waiting for five hours.

Yesterday was her birthday. It was also the seventh anniversary of her marriage to Eric.

Her neck ached as she rubbed at the tension. Rising from her seat, she picked up the lavish meal she had painstakingly prepared—nine dishes and a soup—and dumped it into the trash.

The clatter of porcelain and the splatter of broth left the kitchen in disarray, yet she stood frozen, dazed by the scene.

Nine years ago, she had entered Eric's life under the system's orders, masquerading as a mute to capture the heart of this man who seemed to have everything. The world mocked her for her obsessive love, calling her a fool chasing after the unattainable.

But she had done what was asked of her.

At a gathering one evening, he finally relented, though his words were as cold as the winter wind.

"If you make yourself look like Emily, I'll allow you to stay by my side."

Without hesitation, Charlotte borrowed money to undergo plastic surgery. She reshaped herself to resemble Emily Spencer—the woman Eric revered as his untouchable ideal. She molded her preferences to match his, learned to cook his favorite dishes, and catered to his every need.

To him, she was no more than a housekeeper.

Yet Charlotte didn't mind. She had no intention of staying beyond the nine years the system required. This wasn't love—it was duty.

Even marriage, in all its humiliating pretense, was a box she ticked off for the sake of her mission.

Eric, of course, knew nothing.

At 1:30 a.m., Eric pushed open the door, his expression darkening as his eyes swept across the cold, empty living room. A wave of quiet anger rose within him.

No matter how late he came home in the past, Charlotte had always waited for him. Tonight was the first exception.

His irritation found release as he slammed an untouched plate onto the table, the sharp clang reverberating in the stillness. Tugging off his tie, he stormed into the bedroom and yanked Charlotte out of her sleep.

"Charlotte, today is our wedding anniversary. How dare you go to sleep without waiting for me?"

Groggy and disoriented, she moved her hands, signing an explanation.

Eric's impatience only deepened. "Stop waving your hands. I can't understand a word you're saying. Go run my bath. Now."

The force of his grip suddenly loosened, and Charlotte, unprepared, stumbled backward. She fell onto the ground.

A sharp pain seared through her elbows and knees. She couldn't suppress a low, guttural whimper, the sound breaking through her tightly held silence.

Eric's frown deepened, his voice colder now. "What are you just standing there for? If you don't want to do this, there are plenty of others who will. Don't forget—it was you who begged to stay by my side in the first place."

The physical pain brought tears to the corners of her eyes. She bit down on her frustration, swallowing her emotions as she rose and headed for the bathroom. Just as she reached for the faucet, Eric grabbed her arm again, pulling her back.

"Forget it. Don't bother with the bath. Stay with me tonight," he said, leaning closer, his lips hovering just above hers.

Charlotte's gaze flicked to the faint lipstick mark on his chest. Her heart paused for a beat before returning to its steady rhythm. Calmly, she signed, "I'm on my period."

His expression shifted to one of disgust, and he let her go. Disappointed, he muttered under his breath before retreating to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

Moments later, the sound of his laughter echoed through the walls.

"Emily, how about I take you for private dining tomorrow? You've gotten so thin since returning to the country. Oh, and I brought back that bracelet you loved at the auction…"

His voice grew louder as he hummed a tune, carefree and unabashed.

Charlotte's face remained expressionless. She knelt on the floor, carefully tending to her wounds with slow, deliberate movements. From her pocket, she pulled out an old watch, its back concealing a faded photograph of her and her sister—a moment frozen in time, from what felt like another life.

It was her happiest memory.

Her voice silent as ever, she murmured in her mind, 'System, how much longer until the companionship task ends?'

A mechanical voice replied, cold and distant. [Thirty days, three hours, and fifty-eight minutes remaining.]

For the first time in years, a ripple of emotion stirred within her deadened heart. Relief. She could almost taste it.

The vibration of her phone interrupted her thoughts. A video call. Brian Spencer's voice erupted from the other end, sharp and accusatory.

"Charlotte, what did you do to upset Emily this time? She posted about drinking late at night. Do you know how miserable you've made her? She had to flee the country to get married, and now she's divorced. You're a walking disaster!"

Startled, Charlotte shook her head rapidly, her hands moving to sign a response. "I didn't know. If you hadn't told me—"

"Enough! There's no point in asking you anything. You useless mute, just stay out of the way. Emily's back now, so why are you still holding on to the title of Mrs. Lorvis? Divorce Eric right now!"