Reborn To Divorce My Billionaire Husband

Raindrops lapped against the car windows, blurring Manhattan's neon lights into long, watercolor-like stripes. Every raindrop that fell onto the glass was like a small explosion, echoing the rhythm of her own inner panic and terror.

Evangeline turned her head slowly, a movement that felt stiff and unnatural.

He was there.

Kellan Mason, her husband, sat beside her, bathed in the cold blue light of his iPad. He hadn't looked up. His jaw was a hard, unforgiving line, his focus entirely on the stock figures scrolling across the screen. He was the same as he always was: distant, untouchable, a marble statue of a man who shared her home but never her life.

The driver, Ben, caught her eye in the rearview mirror, his expression a polite mask of concern. "Mrs. Mason? Are you alright?"

The name felt foreign. A costume she had worn for three years.

Three years.

It wasn't a memory. She was reborn, Evangeline is back. In her previous life, on 25th birthday, October 15th, the moment Catalina Tucker appeared at the Shaw family with her birth certificate and DNA comparison test was the beginning of Evangeline's nightmare.

The real daughter came back, and Evangeline became the imposter.

The Shaw family couldn't bring themselves to sever ties with her directly. To make Catalina Tucker the sole heir, Evangeline's car was tampered with, and in the end, she fell into the sea and died in an accident.

There are less than two weeks until her 25th birthday.

"Now that I've been given a second chance, I must make the most of it. So, my top priority is to get a divorce before the truth about my origins comes out, so I can get some of the assets.Then I'll leave the family and not get involved in death."Evangeline thought to herself. "Since that's the case, I definitely need to speed up the process of them getting to know each other.Only if Kellan and Catalina fall in love with each other can I get a divorce and be free sooner."

So rather than waiting for them to meet passively, she preferred to take the initiative.

"Ben," she said, her voice a dry rasp. It sounded like a stranger's. "Pull over at that convenience store."

Kellan's fingers finally stilled on the screen. He didn't look at her, but the subtle tightening of his jaw was a clear sign of his displeasure. The air in the car grew heavy, charged with his silent disapproval.

"We're going to be late," he stated, not a question, but a cold fact. His tone was the one he used in boardrooms, clipped and final.

In her past life, those four words would have been enough. She would have shrunk back, apologized for the inconvenience, and endured the gnawing cramp in her stomach until they arrived at the gala. She had spent three years bending herself into a shape that might please him, a silent, beautiful accessory.

However, she has changed

Evangeline met his gaze in the dark, reflective surface of the window. "I need a bottle of seltzer," she said, her voice devoid of the warmth he was accustomed to. "My stomach is cramping."

The directness of her tone, the lack of apology, finally made him turn his head. His eyes, the color of a stormy sea, narrowed on her. It was a look of faint surprise, of a man noticing for the first time that a piece of furniture had spoken. He held her gaze for a long, tense moment, searching for the familiar deference that was no longer there.

Then, with a barely perceptible sigh of irritation, he gave a curt nod to the driver.

The Maybach glided to a silent stop in front of a brightly lit 7-Eleven. Ben was already reaching for an umbrella in the door pocket.

"I've got it," Evangeline said, pushing his hand away gently.

She didn't wait for Kellan. She pushed open the heavy door and stepped out into the downpour. The cold, driving rain was a shock, soaking the hem of her gown and plastering strands of hair to her face in an instant. It felt real.

The automatic door chimed as she entered the convenience store, the harsh, fluorescent lights a painful glare after the dim luxury of the car. The air smelled of stale coffee and cleaning chemicals. It was a world away from the curated scents of her life with Kellan.

She walked past the aisles of brightly colored junk food, her heels clicking on the linoleum floor. Her target was the refrigerated section at the back. She grabbed the first bottle of water she saw, her hand shaking slightly as she twisted the cap.

She turned and walked to the counter.And there she was.

The girl behind the register was hunched over, carefully counting out change into a drawer. She wore a cheap, ill-fitting red polo shirt with the store's logo on it. Her hair was a simple brown ponytail, and her face, when she finally looked up, was a study in innocent, wide-eyed purity.

A face that had haunted Evangeline's nightmares. A face she saw in the flash of the explosion before the water closed over her head.

Catalina Tucker.

Evangeline's heart gave a single, violent thud against her ribs. This was her. It was unmistakably the woman who would become the true Shaw family heiress, the love of Kellan's life, and the architect of her demise.

"That'll be one dollar and seventy-nine cents," Catalina said, her voice soft and a little hesitant. She seemed intimidated by Evangeline's drenched but obviously expensive attire.

Evangeline stared at her, her gaze sharp and unblinking, cataloging every detail. The chipped nail polish. The faint shadow of exhaustion under her eyes. The raw, hungry ambition that she tried so hard to hide behind a veil of shyness.

She reached into her clutch and pulled out a crisp hundred-dollar bill, laying it on the counter. Her fingertips deliberately brushed against the back of Catalina's hand. The girl flinched, a small, startled movement.

"Keep the change," Evangeline said, her voice smooth as glass.

Catalina fumbled with the cash register, her cheeks flushing. "Oh, I... I can't. I have to give you your change." In her nervousness, a cascade of coins spilled from her trembling fingers, clattering across the counter. "I'm so sorry!"

In her past life, Evangeline might have felt a flicker of pity. Now, she only felt a cold, predatory satisfaction.

"Don't worry about it," she said, her lips curving into a smile that didn't reach her eyes. The smile was a weapon she was just learning how to wield. "It's just money."

She let her gaze drift down to the plastic name tag pinned to Catalina's shirt. Catalina T.

Perfect.

Without another word, Evangeline turned and walked back toward the door. The plan was already taking shape in her mind, wild and audacious. In her last life, they had called her the cuckoo who had stolen the nest. They had stripped her of her name, her home, her very identity.

This time, she would be the one to open the cage door. She would personally deliver the real songbird back to them.

She paused under the store's awning, the rain forming a curtain around her. Across the wet, gleaming asphalt, the Maybach waited, a dark, silent beast. Inside, her husband was waiting.

And soon, so would his soulmate.

A deep, shuddering breath filled her lungs. This time, it wasn't a gasp of panic. It was a declaration of war.