"Daniel! Why? Why would you betray me like this?"
"Do you hate me so much? Is divorcing me all you ever wanted? Fine! You win! From today on... we're done!"
SLAP!
A cold, unfeeling divorce agreement struck Daniel across the face—carrying the shattered remains of her heart.
So heavy.
Heavy enough to crush every last trace of love between them.
BANG!
The slam of the door jolted Daniel back to reality, his mind reeling.
Then—a flash of memory. He seized the document, his eyes locking onto the text:
[DIVORCE AGREEMENT]
[Date: August 14th]
"This... this is from that day."
His breath hitched. "I'm alive... I—I've actually been reborn!"
In the next instant, Daniel whirled around, scanning the room—
By the bed, a deliberately discarded red lace bra and torn clothes strewn across the floor bore witness to last night's staged debauchery.
Daniel's breath hitched violently as realization struck.
August 14th.
This was the day the Lockwoods had gotten him drunk and planted a woman in his bed—all to frame him for infidelity and manipulate Elena into divorcing him. They'd even called Elena themselves to "catch him in the act."
In his past life, he'd fallen for their lies. He'd become their weapon, ruthlessly tearing Elena apart to force the divorce:
Stealing her corporate secrets.
Sabotaging her international mergers.
Leaking her bid prices to competitors.
Even slipping laxatives into her tea during her agonizing menstrual cramps.
He'd left her bleeding in every way imaginable. Yet she never retaliated.
"Just a failed merger. It's nothing compared to you."
"Next time, don't risk sneaking into my office. The security might hurt you. Just ask—I'd give you anything."
"The world will betray you, Daniel. But I never will. No reasons. No conditions. As long as I breathe, no one touches you."
And even after the divorce?
She'd still protected him from the shadows.
She'd still lifted the Lockwoods to dominate the city's elite—for his sake.
But the Lockwoods weren't done with him.
Once they'd drained every last drop of his usefulness, they chopped off his limbs, staged a fire, and left him to burn alive. It wasn't until the flames were searing his flesh that he finally understood—
His beloved brother, Sebastian.
His doting adoptive father, Alistair.
They'd despised him all along.
They thought a staged "accident" would fool Elena.
They were wrong.
No one had realized Elena's true power ran far deeper than anyone imagined.
After uncovering the truth, she annihilated the entire Lockwood bloodline—then took her own life, collapsing atop his grave with a gun in her hand.
That final image was seared into his soul:
Her tears splashing against his tombstone as she choked out his name, again and again—
"Daniel… Daniel…"
"I'm so scared. You left me again… Next life… just look at me once, okay?"
"I can't— I can't keep living without you…"
The proud, untouchable Elena Vanderbilt—
Reduced to shattered whispers, begging a dead man for scraps of love.
Rage.
Regret.
Agony.
They coursed through Daniel's veins like poison as he stood there, reborn.
Never again.
"Sebastian!"
"Alistair!"
Daniel's voice was a blade forged in the fires of his past suffering. "This time, I'll bury the Lockwoods with my own hands."
His fingers clenched until his knuckles turned white, the force of his hatred threatening to crack bone.
Divorce?
Over. His. Dead. Body.
Then—a chilling realization struck.
Today was the day.
The day a heartbroken Elena, before leaving the city, signed over Vanderbilt Industries to the Lockwoods—a "gift" that catapulted them into untouchable supremacy.
"They thought they could use my name to steal her empire for free?" Daniel snarled. "Not this lifetime."
"Elena, wait for me—"
Thirty Minutes Later
City General Hospital
Daniel sprinted through the sterile halls, his pulse roaring in his ears.
Don't sign it. For the love of God, don't sign—
He didn't know why Elena was hospitalized—only the Lockwoods' taunting words from his past life:
"She signed the papers right there in her hospital gown. Pathetic, really."
Just as Daniel rushed into the hospital lobby, desperate to find Elena's room—
"Daniel Lockwood!" A voice like a whip cracked through the chaos.
Charlotte Xiao, Elena's assistant, blocked his path with fury etched into every line of her body. Her phone was pressed to her ear, and before Daniel could demand Elena's location, a man's voice carried through the speaker:
"Dr. Lin, President Vanderbilt delayed treatment for a full day. The hospital director says her injuries are too severe—he can't help her. Please hurry. I'll meet you at the entrance."
The call ended. Charlotte's glare could have frozen hell over.
"How is she?" Daniel demanded, dread coiling in his gut. "Have the Lockwoods arrived? She can't sign that contract—take me to her now—"
"ENOUGH!" Charlotte's finger stabbed toward the exit. "Stop pretending, Daniel. You know exactly what you did."
The words hit like a sledgehammer.
Memory flooded back:
Last night, the Lockwoods had called Elena—who was in the middle of critical negotiations in the capital—and lied, claiming Daniel had been severely injured.
She'd abandoned everything.
Raced back at breakneck speed.
And crashed her car on the way.
In his past life, the accident had left her with chronic pain—another scar he'd caused.
The full horror of that night came crashing down on Daniel.
Last night—after Elena had walked in on his staged infidelity—she'd cornered him on the staircase, begging for an explanation.
And what had he done?
Poisoned by Sebastian's whispers, he'd shoved her.
Hard.
Elena—already bleeding internally from her car crash, already clinging to consciousness through sheer will—had tumbled down the stairs like a shattered doll.
She couldn't get up.
And he'd thought she was faking.
He'd stood there, watching her tremble in agony, watching her fingers claw at the marble steps until they bled. Watching her pass out from the pain—all while his face stayed frozen in contempt.
Her last words before darkness took her:
"Do you hate me so much… that you'd watch me die?"
His reply?
"Yes."
The next morning, she'd thrown the divorce papers in his face.
Now, Daniel's stomach revolted.
How much had she bled that night?
How many pieces of her soul had he crushed under his heel?