Revenge of the Reborn Bride

I decided to choose a new husband after being reborn.

I looked at Asher Vance, the boyfriend I'd devoted five years to, and I turned away without a second glance. Instead, I let my soft form lean into the solid, reassuring strength of his uncle, Alexander Vance.

In my past life, I'd ignored the powerful CEO who wanted to marry me and insisted on loving the wild, free-spirited Asher.

It wasn't until a sudden miscarriage ripped through me that I uncovered the truth—he'd been lacing the tonic he fed me every single day, without fail, with abortifacients.

And his reason? He believed I wasn't as refined, as pure, as my sister Celeste Lockwood, and didn't deserve to carry his heir.

Memories of our tangled moments in bed rushed back, how he'd so often whispered Celeste's name against my skin. Only then did I piece it together: every loss I'd suffered had just been a sick, flirtatious game between the two of them, a cruel inside joke at my expense.

Fine. If that's how they wanted to play, in this new life, I'd just marry someone else.

But on my wedding day, the ever-arrogant Asher collapsed in tears right at the ceremony.

When I opened my eyes, I was standing at the entrance of a lavish private room.

Before I could even push down the door handle, the sound of laughter and chatter spilled out from inside.

"Why didn't Asher bring his fiancée today? Wouldn't Vivian die if she lost him?"

The entire room was drunk, men and women alike, teasing without restraint.

Asher Vance frowned, clicking his tongue impatiently.

"Don't bring her up. Makes me sick. She's just a woman I can't seem to get rid of. Even sleeping with her for free would make me sick."

My heart slammed against my ribs, a full-body tremor taking hold as the words hit me.

So this was what he said when I wasn't around. This was how Asher talked about me—the girl who gave him everything.

He lowered his gaze slightly. The dark light cast shadows across his face, yet for a brief moment, there was an unmistakable trace of tenderness.

"But I told her I'd look out for Vivian, so I'm stuck keeping that promise. Otherwise, with all her little games? She'd never even get a second glance from me."

A wave of understanding murmurs swept the room. Glances were exchanged; everyone knew exactly who "she" was.

In my last life, Asher said these same exact words at our wedding reception. I'd thought the "her" he meant was my mom. I never dreamed it was his lifelong crush, his perfect "what if"—my own older sister.

I'd just been the placeholder all along.

A sharp, acidic ache shot up behind my nose, but my eyes stayed bone-dry. A laugh, hollow and bleak, escaped me. The sound of the final illusion shattering.

I don't know who spotted me first, but a sharp gasp cut the air, and suddenly a few dozen pairs