Reborn To Love My Ruthless Billionaire
Jaclyn woke up in the sterile hospital room after falling down the stairs. The nurse delivered the devastating news: she had bled heavily and lost her baby.
But before she could even cry, her trusted cousins, Katelyn and Cherri, locked the door and revealed the horrifying truth.
"It wasn't an accident," Katelyn smirked, pinning Jaclyn's arm down. "The lubricant on the top step was a very deliberate choice."
They needed her broken and unstable. They had forged her signature, draining her massive trust fund to save their uncle's bankrupt business.
What shattered Jaclyn's world was the fresh hickey on Cherri's neck. Her lover, Bradford, had helped plan the entire murder.
When Jaclyn tried to scream, they smothered her with a pillow, framing her as a lunatic having a mental breakdown.
Two weeks later, when she confronted them, Bradford violently shoved her through a second-story glass window to silence her forever.
As she fell to her death, the husband she had spent her life hating—the ruthless billionaire Gaines—burst through the doors.
He threw himself forward, his face filled with pure terror, desperately trying to catch her.
When her body hit the stone patio, Gaines fell to his knees in her blood, weeping and begging her not to close her eyes.
Until her last breath, Jaclyn was consumed by suffocating regret. Why did she trust the monsters who killed her, and hate the only man who truly loved her?
Opening her eyes again, she was back in the penthouse, exactly one month into her marriage with Gaines.
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Chapter 1
The sharp, sterile smell of antiseptic assaulted Jaclyn's nose before she even opened her eyes.
A violent, tearing pain ripped through her lower abdomen.
Her eyelids fluttered open. The harsh fluorescent lights of the Manhattan private hospital room burned her retinas. The heavy residue of anesthesia made the white ceiling tiles swim above her.
She gasped for air. Her lungs felt like they were filled with crushed glass.
Her trembling right hand moved downward, sliding over the thin hospital gown. Her fingertips met the cold, thick layer of medical gauze taped over her flat stomach.
Her heart stopped beating for a full second.
The door clicked open. A nurse in pale blue scrubs walked in. Her eyes were wide, her mouth set in a tight line of professional pity.
"Mrs. Acevedo," the nurse said, her voice low. "You suffered a severe hemorrhage from the fall down the stairs. I am so sorry. We couldn't save the baby."
A high-pitched ringing erupted in Jaclyn's ears.
Hot, involuntary tears spilled over her lashes, burning trails down her pale cheeks. Her fingers dug into the sterile white bedsheets, twisting the fabric until her knuckles turned completely white.
The sharp clack of high heels echoed in the hallway.
The door swung open wider. Her older cousin Katelyn and her younger cousin Cherri walked into the room. Their faces were twisted into masks of exaggerated concern.
"We'll take it from here," Katelyn told the nurse, her tone leaving no room for argument.
The nurse nodded and slipped out.
The moment the door clicked shut, Katelyn reached out and pressed the lock button on the handle. A soft click echoed in the silence, sealing the room.
The fake sympathy vanished from Katelyn's face. A cold, hard smirk replaced it.
Cherri stepped right up to the edge of the mattress. She looked down at Jaclyn's sweating, pale face.
Cherri let out a short, breathy giggle. The sound scraped against Jaclyn's eardrums.
"Look at you," Cherri mocked, her eyes trailing down to Jaclyn's bandaged stomach. "What a tragic little mess."
The air in the room suddenly felt too thick to breathe. Jaclyn's chest heaved. She forced her heavy arm to move, reaching for the red call button clipped to her pillow.
Katelyn's hand shot out. Her manicured fingers clamped down on Jaclyn's wrist like a vice, pinning it to the mattress.
Katelyn leaned in close. Jaclyn could smell the expensive vanilla perfume radiating off her skin.
"It wasn't an accident, Jaclyn," Katelyn whispered. Her index finger tapped a rhythmic, mocking beat against Jaclyn's trapped arm. "The lubricant on the top step was a very deliberate choice."
Jaclyn's pupils dilated. Her breath hitched in her throat.
She stared at the two women she had grown up with. The cousins she had trusted with her life. Her brain flatlined, unable to process the sheer magnitude of the malice in front of her.
"We needed you to break," Cherri added, her voice sickeningly sweet. "A grieving, unstable mother is so much easier to declare legally incompetent. Uncle Guy needs full control of your medical decisions."
Jaclyn's jaw locked. A surge of pure, unadulterated rage pumped adrenaline into her veins.
She yanked her arm upward, trying to sit up, trying to fight.
The sudden movement tore at her internal stitches. A fresh wave of agony exploded in her pelvis. She collapsed back into the pillows, gasping for air.
Cherri laughed louder this time.
Katelyn reached into her designer handbag. She pulled out a folded piece of paper and shook it in front of Jaclyn's face.
"Uncle Guy's masterpiece," Katelyn said.
Jaclyn forced her eyes to focus on the document. It was a copy of a trust fund transfer agreement. At the bottom line, her own signature stared back at her.
It was a flawless forgery.
The rumors of the Lester family's bankruptcy weren't rumors. Her uncle had drained her inheritance to save his own sinking ship.
"Bradford..." Jaclyn choked out, her throat raw. "Does he know?"
Cherri's smile widened. She reached up and pulled down the collar of her silk blouse. A dark, purple bruise marred the skin of her collarbone. A fresh hickey.
"Bradford helped us plan it," Cherri purred.
Jaclyn's stomach violently contracted. Acid burned the back of her throat. She turned her head and dry-heaved over the edge of the bed, spitting up nothing but bitter bile.
"Once you're discharged, you're going straight to a psychiatric facility upstate," Katelyn stated coldly. "You will never see the inside of a ballroom again."
Jaclyn opened her mouth to scream. She needed to scream for help.
Cherri moved with terrifying speed. She snatched the spare pillow from the armchair and slammed it down over Jaclyn's face.
Darkness instantly swallowed her. The heavy fabric pressed against her nose and mouth, cutting off her oxygen.
Jaclyn thrashed. Her arms flailed blindly in the air. Her fingernails scratched at Cherri's forearms, but her muscles were too weak from the blood loss.
Her lungs burned. Black spots danced behind her closed eyelids.
Heavy footsteps pounded outside the door. A key rattled in the lock.
Katelyn grabbed Cherri by the shoulder and yanked her backward.
The pillow lifted. Jaclyn sucked in a massive, ragged breath. Her chest heaved violently as oxygen flooded her starving lungs.
The door flew open. The doctor rushed in, followed by two nurses.
Katelyn and Cherri were already crying. Real tears streamed down their faces.
"She just started screaming and thrashing!" Katelyn sobbed, covering her mouth in fake horror. "She's completely lost her mind!"
The doctor took one look at Jaclyn. Her eyes were wild. Her face was red and covered in sweat. Her chest was rising and falling in rapid, uneven jerks.
"Get the sedative," the doctor ordered the nurse. "She's having a severe PTSD episode."
"No!" Jaclyn croaked. Her vocal cords were bruised from the pillow. "They tried... to kill me!"
The nurse grabbed Jaclyn's left arm. Strong hands pinned her down.
Jaclyn shook her head frantically. She kicked her legs, ignoring the blinding pain in her stomach.
A cold alcohol swab wiped her inner elbow.
"Just relax, Mrs. Acevedo," the doctor said, his voice completely detached from her reality.
The sharp prick of the needle pierced her vein.
Jaclyn stopped fighting. She turned her head and locked eyes with Katelyn and Cherri, who were standing at the foot of the bed.
She burned their faces into her memory. She memorized the exact curve of their victorious smiles.
The heavy, thick sludge of the sedative hit her bloodstream. Her eyelids felt like they were made of lead.
The fire of hatred in her chest burned hotter than the drugs.
Katelyn leaned over the footboard.
"Game over, Jaclyn," Katelyn mouthed silently.
The edges of the room turned black.
In her final second of consciousness, the face of her husband flashed in her mind. Gaines Acevedo. The man she had fought so hard to escape. The man she had hated.
A cold, hollow sense of regret washed over her.
The darkness pulled her under. The steady, rhythmic beep of the heart monitor was the only sound left in the room.
Katelyn folded the document with deliberate slowness, tapping it against her palm. "A masterpiece," she repeated, before slipping it back into her designer handbag. She linked arms with Cherri, and they walked out of the room.
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7.9
I woke up in a sterile hospital room, my head split open from a horrific car crash.
But the pain in my skull was nothing compared to the memory burned into my retinas just before the impact: my billionaire husband, Dawson, walking into a luxury hotel with a woman who looked exactly like his dead first love.
When Dawson finally arrived at the ward, there was no panic or relief in his eyes. He just coldly looked at my bloody bandages.
"Your reckless driving just forced me to postpone the quarterly board meeting."
Even our seven-year-old son, who I almost died giving birth to, didn't spare me a single glance. He kicked my hospital bed in annoyance.
"The Wi-Fi here is garbage. You're a bad mom! Dad said Aunt Angelita should be the one living with us!"
My blood turned to ice. For five years, I had bent over backward, wearing the hideous pale dresses he picked, starving myself to maintain a fragile figure, all to be a perfect, obedient substitute for a ghost.
And this was what I got. An unfaithful husband who would rather bury me in debt than grant me a divorce, and a son who wished I was dead.
The weak, subservient Charlene died on that wet asphalt.
When the doctor pointed to Dawson and asked for his name, I looked at my husband with a hollow, defensive stare.
"Who are you?" I whispered.
Using retrograde amnesia as my shield, I was going to tear their perfect world apart.
9.2
Jacqueline Blackburn, a desperate Ivy League tutor, walked into the sleazy Veridian VIP club just to save her job.
But her billionaire client, the ruthless Christian Montgomery, mistook her for a cheap escort, blowing cigar smoke in her face and treating her like trash.
When she furiously turned to leave, a drunk former client attacked her in the hallway, tearing her white dress open and pinning her by the throat.
She fought back, stabbing the man's hand with a pen, only for Christian to emerge from the shadows and brutally crush the attacker's bleeding hand under his heel.
Instead of letting her go, Christian draped his heavy suit jacket over her exposed skin, trapped her in his dark suite, and forced her to sign a suffocating contract.
"You have exactly ninety days, or I will personally ensure you cease to exist in my city."
She thought she could just keep her head down, teach his nephew, and survive.
But she didn't understand why this terrifying underground tyrant was suddenly so fixated on her.
Why did he use his immense power to isolate her, publicly claim her at a billionaire gala, and track her every move?
When she received a chilling midnight text demanding she pack her bags and move into his sprawling estate by 8:00 AM, the terrifying reality set in.
She hadn't escaped the wolf. She had just walked directly into his cage.
8.7
Ada was eight months pregnant, sitting peacefully in her husband's Manhattan estate, looking at a baby nursery catalog.
Suddenly, her husband's mistress, Jacklyn, walked in, threw an ultrasound photo on the table, and locked the door.
Before Ada could process the betrayal, Jacklyn dragged her to the top of the marble staircase and threw herself backward just as Desmond walked through the front doors.
"She pushed me, Desmond! She tried to kill our baby!"
Desmond looked at Ada with absolute hatred.
He ignored Ada's breaking water and her agonizing screams for help, leaving her to miscarry on the freezing floor while he rushed Jacklyn to the hospital.
He sent Ada to a brutal federal prison for three years, where she was tortured and left with a body covered in horrific scars, mourning the baby she was told died at birth.
When Ada was finally released, Desmond destroyed her cousin's company to force her back to his estate as a lowly maid.
But when Ada saw Jacklyn's three-year-old son, her world stopped.
Right in the center of the little boy's palm was a faint crescent moon birthmark.
It was the exact same mark Ada had kissed on her own lifeless baby's tiny hand before the doctors took his body away.
How did her dead child become Jacklyn's little prince?
Looking at the woman who stole her life and the husband who threw her in hell, Ada clenched her scarred hands and swore she would tear their world apart to get her son back.
9.2
Lainey spent her last life destroying herself for Larry, only to become the woman he discarded most cruelly. He never loved her, never wanted her, and made no secret that his first love still owned his heart.
On their wedding day, he abandoned Lainey at the altar for that woman, then later used Lainey as nothing more than a stepping stone for his company's rise. In the end, he even had her kidney ripped from her.
Reborn at the very moment everything began, Lainey called off the wedding without hesitation. But after losing her, Larry begged desperately.
Lainey shot him a cold look, then turned and walked straight into the arms of a powerful, aloof man, who stared down at Larry with pure contempt. "She's my wife now."
9.5
Eda Roman clutched her father's diagnostic report, its sharp edge cutting her finger. His cancer had mutated, standard treatment failed, and a fifty thousand dollar deposit for experimental therapy was due by midnight. Fail to pay, and his hospital bed would be cleared.
Wife to Axel Foley, a multi-billion dollar CEO, Eda faced an impossible chasm. Her family trust, controlled by Keri Lane, offered a meager three hundred dollars.
An emergency fund request met a forty-eight-hour review—a death sentence. Keri's assistant denied expedite and blocked calls. Desperate, Eda called Axel, but his assistant dismissed her with lies, Axel's laughter echoing.
Humiliation and betrayal ignited cold fury. Wife to Seattle's wealthiest, yet begging on a hospital floor? Axel's indifference and Keri's games showed her: her father's life couldn't be left in their hands.
Wiping tears, the pleading girl vanished; her survival instinct roared. Red lipstick her war paint, Eda Roman marched to Foley Group Headquarters, ready to reclaim what was hers.
9.1
On our fourth wedding anniversary, I prepared a perfect home-cooked dinner for my husband, Carlisle.
But the moment he walked in, he threw a marital settlement agreement right onto the table.
"Sign it. Celine is back. There's no place for you here anymore."
His mother and sister immediately marched in to supervise my packing, calling me a barren gold-digger and trying to smash my late mother's only keepsake.
I signed the papers and walked out into the freezing night, thinking the nightmare was finally over.
But the next day, a heavily edited video of a childhood friend helping me into his car went viral online.
Carlisle's PR team released a public statement branding me a cheating wife, completely destroying my reputation.
He let the world tear me apart, using my ruined name to play the victim and justify bringing his first love home.
I had sacrificed my own dreams and endured his family's endless abuse for four years, only to be discarded like trash and framed for the exact emotional cheating he had been doing all along.
Watching the vile comments flood my screen, my heartbreak hardened into pure, unbreakable ice.
I calmly picked up my phone and dialed my father's number.
"Dad, it's time. I want to come home and take over Mcneil Industries."