Reborn to Love Him

My husband left me billions of dollars, a global empire, and one final voicemail that is currently shattering my soul.

The lawyer places the silver recorder on the velvet table, his eyes filled with pity. I shouldn't be crying. Everyone in New York knows our marriage was a shama business deal Dominic made to spite my sister, Cassidy. I was just the broken, ex-convict prop he used to stage his revenge.

Or so I thought.

I press play.

Static hisses, followed by a voice that scrapes against my heart. Its him. Low. Raspy. Dying.

"Quinn... I didn't marry you for revenge. I married you because Ive been obsessed with you since university."

The air leaves my lungs. I stare at the wall, my vision blurring.

"My acting was good, right?" he chuckles, but the sound is wet, choked with blood. "You never knew. But Im running out of time. So, I have to ask... could you maybe like me back? Just a little? In the next life?"

Crunch. The sound of twisted metal ends the recording.

He died thinking I felt nothing.

He paved the way for my freedom, cleaned up my name, and gave me everything, while I gave him cold shoulders and silence. Darkness swallows the room. Regret burns through me like a fever, hotter than the hell I lived in prison.

I love you, Dominic. I love you.

I scream into the void, wishing for one more second. Just one.

Then, I snap my eyes open. The smell of antiseptic hits me. My wrist hurts.

I look downEvelyns manicured nails are digging into my skin, begging me to take the blame for my sister.

Im back.

Chapter 1

Before I turned sixteen, my life was a fairytale. I was the pampered princess of the Song family, adored by my parents, spoiled by my older brother, Austin. Not a cloud in my sky.

Then Cassidy showed up with a DNA test in her hand.

The truth shattered my world. A nurses mistake years ago. Cassidy was the real heiress. I was just the cuckoo in the nest. The imposter.

I wanted to leave. I packed my bags. But my biological parents were long gone, and Evelyn couldn't bear to see me on the streets. So, they formally adopted me.

For a while, the fairytale held together. My adoptive parents were kind. Austin didn't push me away. Even Cassidy was sweet, never making me feel like an outsider. I was so grateful. I would have done anything for them.

Then came the night backstage.

Cassidy got into a heated argument with a co-star. Shouting. Shoving. The other girl fell down a flight of stairs. She never woke up.

There were no cameras. No witnesses. Except me.

Someone had to pay.

Evelyn came to me, tears streaming down her face, begging. She asked me to take the fall for Cassidy. Cassidy knelt before me, slapping her own face, sobbing until she could barely breathe, apologizing over and over. The whole family wept as if their hearts were breaking.

So I nodded.

I took the blame. I went to prison. I lived through hell.

At first, they visited. They cried. They looked guilty. But slowly, the visits stopped. The letters dried up.

One day, during a rehabilitation workshop, Warden Taylor asked us to write down our plans for after release. I stared at the paper for a long time before writing:

I want to see Mom and Dad.

Janet, my cellmate, laughed when she saw it. "That's it? Honey, your parents are gonna be waiting at the gate. Of course you'll see them."

I smiled and didn't argue.

But when the gates finally opened, no one was there. Only Theodores assistant, Wong, was waiting. He drove me straight to the airport and handed me a thick envelope of cash. He didn't say a word.

He didn't have to.

Mom and Dad didn't want me anymore. The Song family had thrown me away.

I didn't take the money. Not because of pride. I just didn't want to owe them anything anymore. They raised me for twenty years. I spent five years in a cage for their daughter.

We were even.

I rented a tiny, run-down apartment and walked until my feet blistered, finally landing a job as a server at a place that didn't run background checks. Two weeks later, I was fired.

When I begged for a reason, the manager, Mr. Miller, wouldn't look me in the eye. "You messed with the wrong people, kid."

I froze. The words died in my throat.

The wrong people. Who else could it be but the Song family?

I walked out onto the street, clutching my bag. A cold drizzle began to fall, mixing with the wind to chill me to the bone. I passed Times Square. The massive screens were broadcasting a live awards ceremony.

I stopped. I looked up.

There was Cassidy. On the podium. Radiant. Untouchable.

The camera panned to the audience. I saw Theodore and Evelyn, tears in their eyes, looking at her like she was the most precious thing in the universe. Pure, unadulterated love.

A memory hit me like a physical blow. The first time Evelyn visited me in prison. She had looked at my gaunt face through the glass, weeping. "Quinn, when you get out, Mommy will take care of you forever. Mommy loves you."

But the last time I saw her, two years ago, the love was gone. Only a faint, guilty shadow remained. "Quinn," she had said, avoiding my gaze. "Cassidy is getting engaged to Dominic. She really loves him. When you get out... could you leave the city? We don't want the He family to find out about... the past."

Dominic.

The heir to the He dynasty. The Prince of New York.

We had TV in the common room. Id heard the stories. Dominic and Cassidy, the power couple. The epic romance. They said Dominic was a notorious playboy who had finally been tamed. That he entered the entertainment industrya world he used to despisejust for her. Paving her way. Buying her connections. Presenting her awards.

Sometimes, I envied Cassidy.

I envied that she had parents who adored her. A boyfriend who worshipped her. In just over twenty years, she had everything. Career. Love. Family.

Unlike me.

No parents. No future. No lover.

No one.

Chapter 2

Marrying Dominic wasn't the plan. It was an accident. A collision.

After getting fired, I retreated to a dive bar on the edge of town. I picked up shifts as a waitress. It was grueling work. I dont know how he found me.

I was balancing a tray of beers when Butch, a regular with wandering hands, decided to grab my waist. Reflex took over.

Crack.

My palm connected with his cheek. The sound silenced the booth.

Butch didn't back down. Rage twisted his face. He stood up and drove his boot into my stomach. I hit the floor hard. The tray flipped. Shattered glass. Stale beer. Hot grease from a plate of fries. It all rained down on me.

My skin burned. My ribs screamed. Butch raised a fist, spitting curses, ready for round two.

Then, silence.

I forced my eyes open.

Dominic was standing there.

He looked down at me, eyes dark and unreadable, like polished obsidian. A lazy, cynical smirk played on his lips. "Quinn. So this is where you've been hiding."

I gritted my teeth, ignoring the pain radiating through my torso, and pushed myself up. I brushed off the food scraps and glass shards. I nodded once, then tried to limp past him. I made it two steps.

"You look like a wreck," his voice stopped me cold. "Want to marry me?"

I whipped around. "Have you finally lost your mind?"

"Dead serious."

Dominic scanned me from head to toe. His gaze was heavy, physical. "Cassidy dumped me. I'm pissed off. The Songs destroyed you. Let's call it a... victims' alliance."

Above us, the streetlamp buzzed, flickered twice, and died.

Plunged into darkness, I couldn't see his expression anymore. I only heard his scoffa sharp, cynical soundand saw the ember of his cigarette glowing red in the dark.

"Look at you," he exhaled smoke into the night air. "You have nothing. Marry me. You have absolutely nothing left to lose. What are you afraid of?"

I stood there. Shivering. I didn't answer.

He waited.

A gust of wind cut through my soaked uniform. I flinched.

Warmth.

Heavy, expensive wool settled over my shoulders. Dominic had draped his trench coat over me. Suddenly, my world narrowed down to the scent of him. Cedarwood. Tobacco. And something uniquely him.

"Okay," I whispered.

The engagement broke the internet.

Everyone said Dominic was spiraling. That he only picked me to humiliate Cassidy. At the wedding, when Dominic said "I do," I saw Cassidy in the front row. She was sobbing, her mascara running, before she bolted from the venue.

I glanced at the man beside me. Dominic didn't even blink. He didn't look at her. He smiled at the priest, cool and detached. Like he never loved her. Like she didn't exist.

Married life was... unexpected.

Dominic was suffocatingly good to me. He hired me as his Executive Assistant. I was his shadow. Office. Car. Home.

When I asked why, he leaned against his desk, that playboy grin surfacing. "Can't leave a beauty like you at home. Someone might steal you. And then who would I belong to? Bad investment."

I rolled my eyes. "You're impossible."

I didn't fight it.

Prison had wrecked me. My immune system was shot. A common cold could put me in the ICU. Dominic hired specialists. He turned our bedroom into a recovery ward.

One night, fever burning through me, I felt his hand grip mine. Tight. Desperate.

"Quinn," he whispered, his forehead resting against my knuckles. "I saved you. Your life belongs to me now. You are not allowed to die before I do. Do you hear me?"

Possessive. Childish. But I saw the raw fear in his eyes.

I nodded. I hadn't understood his grief then. But I had learned the art of silence. Of not asking questions.

"Okay," I rasped.

"Till death do us part," he demanded.

But in the end, the one who broke the promise wasn't me. It was Dominic.

"Mrs. He." The voice on the phone was professional. Clinical. "Mr. He was involved in a severe collision at 3:00 AM yesterday. Resuscitation efforts failed."

A pause. "I am so sorry for your loss."

Chapter 3

I pushed open the heavy doors of the morgue. The air was frigid, smelling of antiseptic and finality.

Benedict and Margaret were already there, their grief a raw, open wound. They were sobbing, holding onto each other as if the world was ending. I walked past them. I looked down at Dominic.

His skin was the color of marble. Cold. Still. I felt a strange, detached thought float through my mind.

God had played favorites. He gave Dominic everythinga dynasty, a face that could launch wars, a brilliant mind. But God was stingy with time. Thirty-four years. That was it.

What a waste. What a goddamn waste.

I planned the funeral myself. Every flower. Every hymn.

For five years, people whispered. They said our marriage was a sham. A joke. Cassidy watched from the sidelines, her eyes burning with hate, waiting for me to fall. Waiting for the moment she could laugh at the "fake wife."

But no one laughed when the will was read.

Dominic left me everything. Every share. Every property. Every cent.

Benedict and Margaret didn't fight it. They just signed the papers, their backs bent under the weight of a sorrow that money couldn't fix. They looked like ghosts of their former selves.

A week later, Mr. Scott, Dominics lawyer, came to the penthouse. He handed me the transfer documents. Before he left, he pulled a small, silver object from his briefcase.

"This was found with Mr. He," Mr. Scott said softly. "We had the audio restored. I think... I think you need to hear this, Mrs. He."

A voice recorder.

I sat alone in the living room. Silence pressed against my eardrums. I pressed play.

"Quinn."

His voice filled the room. Cool. Detached. But underneath, there was a jagged edge of static and raspiness.

"I didn't marry you to piss off Cassidy. I married you because I like you."

I froze. My heart didn't race. It just stopped.

It was like I had known, deep down in the dark, all along.

Dominic chuckled on the recording. A soft, self-deprecating sound. "You probably don't remember, but we met a long time ago. You were the Ice Queen of the university. Brilliant. Untouchable. Professor Kellys favorite student. My mentor couldn't shut up about you. Every time he talked to your professor, hed come back to me, grumpy as hell, and say"

He pitched his voice lower, mimicking the old man perfectly. It was adorable. "Dominic, you're an idiot. Get out of my sight."

It was so accurate, so Dominic, that a laugh escaped my lips before I could stop it. But the smile died as quickly as it came.

"I hated you back then," Dominic continued. "But I couldn't stop looking at you. I guess I'm a glutton for punishment. Then you went to prison. Intentional injury, they said. I didn't buy it. Not for a second. I had to find the truth. But the Songs... they cleaned up well. No evidence. So, I went after Cassidy."

The realization slammed into me.

The romance. The headlines. The "power couple" of the century. It was all a lie. A cover.

He had dated Cassidy to get close to the truth. To clear my name. But Cassidy was a vault. She never slipped up. He must have found something, though. A thread.

A memory flashed in my mind. Before the wedding, Dominic had come home, eyes bright with a strange, frantic energy.

"Quinn, do you want revenge?"

"No," I had said, shaking my head. "We're even."

I understood now. He had found the proof. He dug up the truth for me. And then, because I asked for peace, he buried it again. For me.

Everything. All of it. It was always for me.

My hands started to shake. A tremor that started in my fingers and seized my entire body. My vision blurred. Hot tears spilled over, burning my cheeks.

"But hey," his voice was lighter now, almost teasing. "My acting was Oscar-worthy, right? I fooled everyone. Even you. You have no idea how cute you looked when I asked you to marry me. That look in your eyes... anyway, I'm rambling. There's actually something I've always wanted to ask you."

Dominic coughed. The sound was wet. Painful. When he spoke again, the arrogance was gone. He sounded young. Vulnerable. Terrified.

"Quinn... could you maybe like me back? Just a little? I probably won't hear the answer in this life. But maybe... in the next one? When I find you again, tell me then."

Suddenly, the audio shifted.

Screeching tires. The sickening crunch of metal. Screams. And then, clear as a bell, his final words.

"Quinn, I reallyreallyreallylove you."

Chapter 4

The recording ended. But the last thing I heard wasn't the crash. It was a laugh. A faint, breathless sound caught in his throat right before the end.

The dam inside me broke.

The living room was vast and empty. On the coffee table, a vase of lilies sat in stagnant water. Dominic had brought them home days ago.

I had always loved lilies. I remembered the way he looked when he presented them to me, like a boy offering a priceless treasure.

"Smell them, Quinn. I picked the best ones. Hand-selected." He had grinned, that rare, genuine smile that reached his eyes. "From now on, I'm in charge of the flowers. Fresh ones. Every week."

His eyes had held the warmth of a thousand stars. I couldn't have refused him if I tried.

But he lied.

He left first. He took the last breath of life from those flowers with him.

Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, landing on my shoulder. I reached up to touch the light. It felt cold. Freezing.

I finally saw it. The ocean of love Dominic had hidden beneath layers of ice and sarcasm. Massive. Secret.

But I was too late.

Mr. Scott returned a week later to collect the signed inheritance papers. He had served Dominic for years. He had seen me countless times. In his eyes, I was the Ice Queen. The trophy wife. Always poised, always wearing a polite, impenetrable mask. I watched the world burn and didn't bat an eyelash.

No joy. No anger. No feeling.

Even when he told me Dominic was dead, I had just blinked. Not a single tear. Dominic gave me the world. And I gave him nothing. Mr. Scott had hated me for it. He thought Dominic deserved better.

But when he walked into the living room that day, he stopped dead.

I was sitting on the floor, clutching a bundle of withered, brown lilies against my chest. My face was paler than the falling snow outside. I didn't offer a polite smile. I didn't offer anything.

"Mr. Scott," my voice was shards of glass. "Donate it. All of it. Every asset. Every property." I looked up, eyes hollow. "Give it to the children's charities. I don't want his money."

There was no room for negotiation.

Mr. Scott packed the papers. He walked to the door, hand hovering over the knob. He couldn't stop himself. He turned back.

"Mrs. He... did you ever love him?"

I smiled. A broken, jagged thing. I didn't answer.

Years later, the media would mourn the passing of the great philanthropist, Mrs. He. The woman who saved thousands of orphans.

I was on my deathbed. I was only forty-five, but my hair was completely white. I looked toward the window. The light was shifting, taking shape. I saw him. He looked just like he did that day with the lilies.

I smiled, feeling like a girl again.

"Yes," I whispered to the empty room. "Always. I always loved you."

"Quinn! Please! You have to save your sister! She's just a baby, she can't go to prison!"

"Sis, I know I messed up! I didn't mean to! I don't want to go to jail! I'm a star! If I go to prison, my life is over!"

The darkness shattered.

My head was splitting open. A throbbing, rhythmic pain behind my eyes. I peeled my eyes open. The light was blinding.

Cassidy was on the floor, a heap of designer silk and tears. She was sobbing into the carpet. Theodore was holding her, stroking her hair, his face twisted in anguish.

And Evelyn.

Evelyn was gripping my hand so hard her nails cut into my skin. Her face was wet with tears, her voice trembling, but her eyes... her eyes were laser-focused.

"Quinn," she choked out. "Will you do it? Will you take the fall for Cassidy?"

I stared at her. Silence stretched between us. She took my silence for hesitation.

"Quinn, listen to me," Evelyn hissed, her voice dropping to a desperate whisper. "There were no cameras. It was just you and Cassidy. The paparazzi only got a blurry back shot. They can't prove who pushed Hazel."

She squeezed my hand tighter, pleading.

"Just say it was an accident. Say you pushed her. The police won't dig deeper if you confess. Don't worry. Once you're inside, Mommy will take care of everything. You won't suffer. And when you get out... the Song family will take care of you for the rest of your life."

Chapter 5

Yeah.

She said the exact same thing in my last life. But the warranty on that promise expired in less than a year. Once the public moved on, I was kicked out of the private cell. I was thrown into general population.

And a pretty face in prison isn't an asset. Its a target.

Beatings. Slurs. Rat poison in my oatmeal. I lived in a constant state of agony. And no one came. Not until the poisoning landed me in the infirmary did Evelyn finally show up.

She stood by my hospital bed, checking her diamond watch, looking at me like I was a stain on her skirt.

"Quinn, stop being so delicate. You need to toughen up. Cassidy has a shoot in Paris next week. Im going with her. I won't have time to visit anymore."

That was the last time I saw her face.

Back in the present, I looked at the tears streaming down Evelyns cheeks. I had believed that right now, in this second, she meant it. But truth is perishable. Guilt rots. It turns into resentment. And eventually, into fear of the person you wronged.

I calmly peeled my hand out of her grip.

"No."

Evelyn recoiled. Her jaw dropped. The obedient little doll had finally cut her strings.

My voice was steady. Cold.

"Mom. Thank you for raising me for twenty years. Truly. But I am not lighting myself on fire to keep Cassidy warm. Call me selfish. Call me an ingrate. Call me a monster. I don't care." I looked her dead in the eye. "I am not going to prison for her."

I didn't crawl back from the grave to be a martyr again.

In the last life, Dominic saved me. In this life, I save myself. And thenI would walk to Dominic clean. Whole. Unbroken.

Theodore exploded.

His face turned purple, veins bulging in his neck. He screamed about gratitude, about how much money they spent on me, about how I was a heartless snake. Evelyn and Cassidy wailed like a Greek chorus, clinging to each other.

But when they realized guilt tripping wasn't working, panic set in. They couldn't let me leave. They shoved me into my bedroom. The lock clicked from the outside.

I saw Austin standing in the hallway as the door slammed shut. He didn't say a word. He just watched, eyes averted. Complicit silence. Just like before.

Evelyn had snatched my phone before locking me in. But she didn't know about the burner I kept taped under my nightstand. I dug it out and powered it on.

The news was already trending.

Heiress Hazel He in Critical Condition. Coma Suspected.

The details were sparse. A blurry paparazzi photo of a back. A caption: Song Sisters seen arguing with Victim moments before tragedy.

The police were probably already at the gate. My thumbs hovered over the keypad. I typed the number from memory. I stared at the digits that were branded into my brain, and I froze.

Terror clawed at my throat.

What if he's not him? What if this is a hallucination? What if I wake up back in that cold, empty penthouse?

In the timeline where he died, I paid his phone bill for decades. Every night, when the silence got too loud, I texted him. Mundane things. Secrets. Breakdowns. And every single time, I got the same response.

Quinn, I'm here.

An auto-reply. He set it up before the crash. The bastard. He tethered my heart to a ghost for thirty years. He made sure I could never, ever forget him.

I stood up and ripped the curtains open. The sun hit my face, cold and bright. Below, I saw the flashing red and blue lights. The police cruisers were pulling into the driveway.

I saw Theodore down there, shooting a dark, warning glare up at my window. My hands shook uncontrollably.

I hit send.

[Dominic. Do you want to come save me?]

Chapter 6