Reborn Twice The Billionaire's Wife Strikes Back

Two lifetimes. Both times, I married Dominic Calloway.

In every life, he sat at the top of the Calloway empire, untouchable.

And I was the wife his world demanded: poised, gracious, tireless. I managed the household and the business without complaint, exactly as the Henson family had raised me to be.

He used to hold me close, satisfaction dripping from every word.

"Ava Henson, you're the most sensible woman I know."

In my first life, he used that trust against me. He and his precious soulmate drained every asset I had, buried me under mountains of debt, and left me to rot in prison. I died in disgrace.

In my second life, I was smarter. I locked down the assets, convinced I could protect myself and the Henson family. But he implanted his and his soulmate's fertilized embryo into my womb. I carried their son. I ran their company. And when I was dying of illness, he waltzed in with her and the boy, took everything, and threw me away like garbage. Again.

Every lifetime, the script was the same.

"Ava, money is just material. You have the Calloway name. You have my love. Isn't that enough?"

"The Prescotts went bankrupt. Fiona needs the shares more than you do. As the man of this family, I should help her."

This third time around, I listened to the same vile lines and smiled.

"Of course, sweetheart. Whatever you say. Miss Prescott really is pitiful. If you want to help her, go right ahead."

After all, I was only here to collect what was owed to me. Who he handed the Calloway Group to was none of my damn business.

Dominic's car pulled into the driveway of the estate. I stood inside the foyer and didn't move.

Erica Lambert walked over, her voice low and careful.

"Ma'am, Mr. Calloway is home."

I blinked, my gaze drifting to the black luxury sedan parked beyond the window.

By habit, I should have gone out to greet him. Taken his coat, carried his briefcase, walked him into the living room. Then served the dinner I'd spent hours preparing, drawn his bath, adjusted the lamp in his study to the exact brightness he preferred.

I'd been the perfect wife for two entire lifetimes.

Flawless.

So flawless that even I had believed it. That I was simply born gentle. Born accommodating. Born to serve.

But this time, the thought of it made my stomach turn.

No amount of devotion could wring a real heart out of a man who didn't have one.

"Leave him."

I turned and headed for the stairs, my voice even. "I'm tired. I'm going to rest."

My footsteps didn't falter. The bedroom lock clicked open, and behind me, Dominic's gaze landed on my retreating back.

"Ava. I'm home."

I paused for half a second. Didn't turn around. Kept walking.

His voice shifted, edged with displeasure.

"Did you not hear me?"

Heavy footsteps climbed the stairs after me.

"What's gotten into you lately?"

He followed me into the bedroom, irritation threading through every syllable.

"You skip the family gatherings. You bail on the company gala. And now you can't even be bothered to acknowledge me when I walk through the door?"

"Nothing's gotten into me." My tone was flat. Almost amused. "I just realized there's no point anymore."

"No point?" His brow furrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

I lifted my head and looked him straight in the eyes. Two lifetimes as his wife. I'd told myself it wasn't just an arranged marriage. We'd grown up together, at least. Partners, if nothing else. But in the end, none of it mattered once his precious soulmate fell from the sky.

My gaze dropped to the red string tied around his wrist.

"Dominic. I want a divorce."

We'd only been married a year this time. I had plenty of road ahead of me, and I refused to waste another second tangled up with a man who wasn't worth the air he breathed.

Dominic Calloway stared at me, frozen, as if the words hadn't registered.

Of course. In his mind, I would always be that Ava. The one who saw the bigger picture. The one who compromised, who yielded, who forgave. The one who loved him like he was the only thing keeping her alive.

Divorce. The word coming out of my mouth must have sounded like a joke to him. Absurd. Impossible.

Three seconds passed.

The color drained from his face, replaced by something dark.

"Ava, since when did you learn these little-girl ultimatum tricks?"

"Just because I feel sorry for Fiona and want to help her out?"

"I'm not making ultimatums."

I smiled, perfectly composed, but my voice was steel.

"I think giving her the title of Mrs. Calloway would do a much better job of helping her rebuild the Prescott family business."

"I'm stepping aside for her. What more could you possibly want?"

I turned and walked into the bathroom.

Dominic didn't follow. He didn't chase me in to explain, didn't bother with a few sweet words to smooth things over or tell me I'd misunderstood.

That wasn't how he operated. He'd let me stew, wait for me to cave, because he was absolutely certain I was just throwing a tantrum.

The door clicked shut behind me. His footsteps retreated down the stairs.

The next day, I went home to the Henson estate.

When my father heard the word "divorce," he pressed me immediately.

"You and Dominic have always been fine. Why divorce all of a sudden?"

"The two families' businesses are tangled up in each other. Do you have any idea how far-reaching a divorce would be?"

I walked over and refilled his teacup.

"Dad, Dominic's been having an affair. He's planning to hand the entire Calloway empire over to his mistress. Do you really think the Hensons should stay tied to that family?"

My father's head snapped up, shock carved into every line of his face.

"How is that possible?"

I couldn't blame him for not believing it. Dominic and I had been together since high school. When he proposed, he'd chartered hundreds of drones to paint a heart across the Ridgeport skyline.

But the truth was simple: I was only ever the first half of his story. The moment the Prescott family went bankrupt and Fiona Prescott came back from abroad, his heart and soul belonged to her.

I looked into my father's bewildered eyes, closed mine, and drew a long breath.

"Dad, what if I told you I've had the same dream three nights in a row? Would you believe me?"

"In the dream, I married Dominic Calloway across two lifetimes. In the first, he felt sorry for Fiona and funneled Calloway Group money and shares to help her rebuild the Prescott empire. I fought him tooth and nail, threatened divorce, but behind my back he was siphoning off clients and capital to prop her up. By the time I found out, the Calloway Group was a hollow shell drowning in debt. I died in prison."

"In the second life, I refused his demands and seized control of the company myself. I thought I could protect the Henson family that way. But he implanted Fiona's fertilized embryo into my womb without my knowledge. I worked myself half to death, ruined my health, and the moment I drew my last breath, he walked Fiona and their child right through the front door and took everything the Hensons had built."

By the time I finished, tears were streaming down my face.

Humiliation. Rage. Grief.

The man I'd given my whole heart to had been that heartless all along.

Perhaps even God found his cruelty unforgivable. That was why I'd been sent back this time with my memories intact, to claim the justice I was owed.

My father's face drained of color. His palm cracked against the table.

"That animal. He dared do that to my daughter. I'll destroy him."

He was already rising to go find Dominic, but I caught his arm and spoke slowly, deliberately.

"Dad, beating him or cursing him out would be letting him off easy. What we need to do is separate our assets as soon as possible and minimize the damage."

"If he wants to drag the Calloway Group straight to hell, why should we stand in his way?"

My father went still. Then he nodded.

I laid out my plan in detail. Two families bound by marriage meant entangled finances, joint ventures, shared technical teams. Even a divorce required careful maneuvering. Every asset, every project, every key person had to be accounted for in advance. Nothing could collapse before we were ready.

By the time we'd finalized the strategy, it was already evening when I returned to the Calloway residence.

All three of them were seated at the dining table, picture-perfect. The moment my mother-in-law saw me, the smile on her face curdled into something cold.

"Ava, throwing your little fit these past few days was one thing. But now you're actually talking about divorce?"

"Do you have any idea what that would do to both families' stock prices if word got out?"

I let out a cold laugh.

"No divorce? So you'd rather let your son run around behind my back, dragging the family name through the mud?"

"As for the risks and losses you mentioned, the Henson family can afford them. Save your concern."

In my last life, I'd been nothing but careful and attentive. I treated her like my own mother. And she repaid me by finding a mistress for her son behind my back.

When I was bedridden and dying, she told me I was too domineering, that it was no wonder my husband despised me. She said I should learn from Fiona Prescott in my next life, learn how to keep a man's heart.

And Fiona? She waltzed right into the president's chair at the Henson Group and ground my family beneath her heel.

On the day I died, I clung to Dominic's arm with the last shred of strength I had and demanded an answer.

"Why?"

"Why did you do this to me?"

Dominic just let out a long sigh.

"Ava, you really were wonderful. But Fiona was pampered her whole life. She can't handle hardship. I couldn't bear to let her suffer."

That was the moment I stopped breathing. I died right there in that hospital room.

My soul drifted above the bed. I watched my son throw himself into Fiona's arms and call her Mommy, and only then did I understand how deep Dominic's love for her ran, how far he'd been willing to scheme for her sake.

How utterly tragic my life had been.

My mother-in-law stood there with my words lodged in her chest, her face mottled purple.

Fiona sprang to her feet immediately, rubbing the old woman's chest, eyes rimmed red.

"Ava, how can you say something so cruel? Just because the Prescott family fell on hard times, you think you can humiliate us?"

"Dominic was only worried about me being all alone in the world. He just wanted to help the Prescott family get back on its feet, and you're so overbearing you'd slander us over it."

She lowered her head, tears spilling down her cheeks in a perfect picture of wounded innocence.

Something shifted on Dominic's usually glacial face. He crossed the room and pulled Fiona into his arms, his voice tender.

"Fiona, don't worry. As long as I'm here, no one touches you."

Then he turned to me.

"Ava, the Calloways and the Prescotts are old-money families. When someone's in trouble, you lend a hand. That's loyalty. You've always been sensible and generous. Why are you making such a scene this time?"

"This kind of selfish, cold-blooded behavior will drive everyone away from you. Or was all that grace and virtue just an act?"

I looked him dead in the eye and spoke slowly, every word a blade.

"Dominic Calloway. I get up at six every morning to manage this household. I deal with your parents, your relatives, your endless social obligations. I smooth things over with your business partners. I calm your shareholders. At night, I organize your contracts and files. And through all of it, I'm expected not to care that you never come home."

"You think someone can fake that? Go ahead. Try it yourself."

I pulled the divorce papers from my bag and set them on the dining table.

"Dominic, we've been married one year. I held up my end to the Calloway family and to you. You're the one who kept dragging me through the filth."

"A man this rotten? If I don't divorce you, what am I supposed to do, keep you around until you stink up my whole life?"

His expression darkened to something murderous.

"You... you're completely unreasonable. Vulgar. Keep this up, and I'll only despise you more."

A laugh escaped me before I could stop it. After everything, did he actually think I still cared what he thought of me?

I turned, my voice dropping to ice.

"Your precious Fiona is so refined, so above it all. She's certainly not above spreading her legs underneath you to save the Prescott family, though."

"So stop forcing yourself to pretend you ever loved me. Go marry your little two-faced princess."

Crash.

A cup shattered against the floor. "Ava Henson, I truly misjudged you. All that love you showed me was the real act. You were only ever after the Calloway fortune."

"You've destroyed this partnership. I'd love to see how you explain it to the shareholders. To the board. Are you going to tell them it's because I helped the Prescott family?"

I lifted my gaze to meet his, and I knew he was seething. After all, I'd always been the obedient one, soft-spoken and compliant.

What he couldn't stomach was the idea that my love for him had been a lie all along.

He assumed I couldn't let go of him, couldn't walk away from the Henson Group.

But after two lifetimes of groveling, two lifetimes of suffering, he could forget about getting so much as a kind word from me.

If he and Fiona Prescott shared some deep, unbreakable bond, he should have just said so. I was the Henson family's only daughter. It wasn't as if he was my only option.

What he should not have done was covet my family's assets with one hand while chasing his own pleasure with the other.

That kind of selfish, despicable greed? If I let him off the hook in this lifetime, the universe itself would owe me an apology.

"Dominic, you want me to explain things to the Calloway board?"

"You're the one who needs to explain. Go tell them how you schemed and lied for your little mistress and destroyed the Henson-Calloway alliance all by yourself."

I walked over the shattered glass without slowing down and headed upstairs.

Word of the Henson Group's moves spread fast. Rumors about the divorce tore through every boardroom in the city's upper circles.

Ava Henson and Dominic Calloway's marriage collapses. Calloway Group stock in freefall.

The Henson family goes all in. Has the Henson heiress lost her mind?

Everyone was calculating the cost of this split, convinced I was acting on impulse.

Only I knew the truth. This wasn't a tantrum.

This was salvation.

Cutting the deadweight loose was the only way to win.

The joint development projects between the Henson and Calloway Groups? Pulled.

The technical teams the Henson family had lent to support Calloway operations? Pulled.

Henson capital? Every last cent of it. Gone.

As for whatever support the Calloways had provided in return, my father and I had already lined up new teams, new technical management, weeks in advance.

Within twenty-four hours, the replacements were in place. Every project under Henson's control moved forward without a hitch.

The funding gap was covered by a contract we'd already signed with the bank. The money would land in two days.

The Calloway side, on the other hand, descended into chaos. Three major projects under their control collapsed the moment the technical teams walked out, grinding to a dead halt overnight.

New products already in production had to be shelved indefinitely when the cash dried up.

Dominic finally panicked.

The first time, he waited for me outside my office building. The second he saw me, he grabbed my arm and pulled me into my own office.

He'd even adjusted the lights to a warm, study-like glow, as if atmosphere alone could soften me.

From behind his back, he produced a document and held it out.

"Ava, isn't this what you're afraid of? That I'll use Calloway Group resources to bankroll Fiona?" He set the papers on the desk between us. "This is a transfer agreement. Sign it, and you become the legal representative of the Calloway Group."

"The house we live in, the cars, every dollar in my accounts. All yours."

He stepped closer, and his expression shifted into something I'd rarely seen from him: tenderness.

"Ava, we've had eighteen years together. We can work anything out. I truly care about you. Can we please not get divorced?"

I stared at the transfer agreement, and the urge to laugh nearly split me open.

So in this lifetime, Dominic was playing the exact same hand.

In my previous life, he'd funneled company resources and clients to the Prescotts one deal at a time. When I'd fought him over it, when I'd threatened divorce, he'd done this same thing. The same earnest apology. The same grand gesture of changing the Calloway Group's legal representative to my name.

The same script. The same con.

The reality was that there were no "eighteen years of love." He'd already set up a new company on the side: Calloway-Prescott Corp.

Back then, I'd been moved to tears, foolishly convinced that somewhere deep down, Dominic still cared about me.

Two months later, I discovered the truth. The company he'd so generously "given" me had already been leveraged to the hilt with the bank, buried under mountains of unpaid debt to every major partner they'd ever worked with.

What awaited me wasn't a gift. It was bankruptcy. And it dragged the entire Henson family down with it.

I blinked back the tears that came from holding in the laugh too long, picked up the contract, read it once, read it again, then slammed it into Dominic's face.

"Dominic, I wouldn't touch your family's pile of garbage with a ten-foot pole. Save it for your little mistress."

Dominic's expression shifted. He was silent for three seconds before mustering a helpless smile.

"Alright, I know you're still upset about Fiona. I promise I won't get involved with her anymore, okay?"

"I've already helped her enough. She could never be more important than my wife. I'm not going to let some outsider drive you away."

He reached for my waist and pressed a kiss to my cheek.

I stared at him, stunned. I'd never known he could grovel like this for a woman.

Two lifetimes of suffering. Two lifetimes of giving him everything I had. And what did it amount to?

A sacrifice on the altar of their love? Something I deserved?

The fury tore through me before I could stop it. My hand flew up and cracked across his face with every ounce of rage I had.

"Dominic, are you really going to keep up this act?"

He froze where he stood. Disbelief warred with barely contained fury across his face.

He hadn't expected this. He'd lowered himself, conceded, played the repentant husband, and I still hadn't melted into forgiveness, still hadn't kissed him with grateful relief.

His throat worked. The angry words were right there, ready to detonate.

I didn't give him the chance. I turned and pulled the door open.

The lawyers, the police, and several company shareholders were already standing in the hallway.

"You shouldn't be thinking about how to swindle me right now, Dominic."

"You should be thinking about how you're going to explain to them how you hollowed out the company to bankroll a new venture with your little mistress."