Mr. CEO, I'm Reborn-Now Spoil Me 100 Percent!

"Clive, Paisley doesn't want to marry you. Can't you just leave her alone already?"

The voice was sharp, desperate.

Paisley Hughes stirred, her head pounding like a drum. Her vision swam, her limbs heavy. Everything felt... wrong. Off. She pried her eyes open, only to catch the blur of two men shoving each other in front of her.

What the hell was going on?

The guy being pinned to the wall was Ethan Duncan - thin gold-rimmed glasses askew, face pale with panic. He looked like the picture of restraint on the outside, but he was clearly losing it.

The man pinning him?

Clive Harrington.

Black suit. Ice-cold expression. Handsome to the point of cruel. His eyes locked on Ethan like a wolf cornering its prey.

"Paisley is my wife," Clive said, voice low and lethal. "Mine. For life."

That line.

Her heart jolted. She knew those words. Had heard them before.

Three years ago.

Her breath caught. Was she dreaming?

Paisley's eyes darted around. The villa - this was their place. Hers and Clive's. Wedding photos lined the walls. Romantic florals. Champagne glasses on the table. Everything screamed "just married."

No.

No way.

This was exactly three years ago.

Her temples throbbed as she tried to make sense of it. She'd hit her head - maybe she was hallucinating. But when she looked into Clive's eyes - those deep, unreadable eyes - something in her gut said this was real.

She had been reborn.

Before she could process it all, Ethan lunged forward and grabbed her arm. "Paisley, come with me. I don't care how powerful he is. I'll protect you. I always will."

That line.

She used to believe it.

Used to think Ethan was her salvation. That love meant sacrifice. That he'd chosen her.

But now?

Now she saw it for what it was. A lie. A setup. A damn performance.

She didn't hesitate. Her hand flew up and slapped him across the face.

The crack echoed through the room.

Ethan reeled back, eyes wide in disbelief. "Paisley... why'd you hit me?"

His face was blank. He didn't get it.

But she did.

That slap confirmed everything - this wasn't a dream. This was her second chance.

God hadn't abandoned her. He'd thrown her back into the exact moment everything could have changed.

She remembered it all now.

How she'd walked away from Clive for Ethan. Given up her marriage. Her shares in Hughes Corp. Her name. Her pride.

All for a man who never wanted her - only wanted what she owned.

Ethan had teamed up with Olivia Hughes, her oh-so-perfect half-sister. Together, they drugged her, used her, destroyed her. Even her own mother had sold her out.

And when they were done?

They tossed her back to Clive like trash.

Clive hadn't said a word back then. Just locked her up for a year. Cold. Silent. Distant. All they ever did was have sex. No conversations. No warmth. Just bodies. Nothing more.

Then the Hughes family crumbled. Clive held up his end of their deal and let her go.

She ran.

And got hit by Ethan's car. Dying alone on a bridge, betrayed by everyone she had ever loved.

But not this time.

This time, she knew exactly who her enemies were. She wasn't going to beg. She wasn't going to break. She was going to make every one of them pay.

And she was going to start now.

"I'm not leaving with you," she said, voice clear and cold. "I'm Clive's wife. Ethan, what makes you think I'd walk out that door with you? This is my house. Get out."

Ethan stood frozen, like she'd just slapped him again.

This was Paisley - the girl who used to trail behind him like a puppy. Who never said no to him. Who once thought the world of him.

But now?

Now she looked at him like he was nothing.

And for the first time in his life, Ethan didn't know what to say.

"Paisley, don't be scared, okay? I'm right here. As long as I'm around, Clive won't lay a finger on you. You said it yourself - you're not in love with him. You love me. So come with me. Please. It's dangerous staying here with him!"

Ethan's voice rang out through the villa, loud and desperate. But no one was listening.

Security had already stepped in, ready to escort him out.

Still, Ethan clung to the doorframe like a man possessed, refusing to budge.

He wasn't leaving without Paisley.

Because without her, he had no leverage. No Hughes family shares. No backup plan.

Clive stood silently nearby, face unreadable. But the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers curled into fists - he was one second away from snapping.

And then Paisley spoke.

"Ethan, let's get one thing straight." Her voice was sharp, steady. "I may not love Clive. But I'd still rather be Mrs. Harrington than waste another second on a loser like you."

Ethan's eyes widened.

"Love? That can grow. But you? You offer nothing. No name, no future, no power. Why would I trade diamonds for dirt?"

She took a step forward, her gaze like ice. "You honestly thought you had a chance? That's pathetic. Get him out of here. If he shows his face again, call security."

Clive didn't say a word, but the tension in him eased. His storm had passed - because of her.

Ethan was dragged out like garbage, disbelief painted across his face.

He couldn't understand it.

This wasn't the Paisley he knew.

The girl who'd once followed him like a shadow... was now a stranger with claws.

But this was far from over. He'd be back. And next time, he wouldn't leave empty-handed.

Once the door slammed shut behind him, Paisley finally turned to Clive.

Her heart was steady, but her mind raced.

She still didn't fully understand Clive.

Did he ever have feelings for her? It didn't seem like it.

After all, in their last life, he made her part of a cold transaction. Married her, locked her away, and watched as the Hughes family collapsed under his hand.

He was ruthless. Brilliant. Untouchable.

The heir to the Harrington empire. A man who ruled both the boardroom and the shadows.

And women flocked to him like moths to flame - especially one.

His first love.

The one he never seemed to forget.

So why had he agreed to marry her back then?

Paisley couldn't figure it out. But one thing was clear: she wasn't going to be anyone's victim this time.

She crossed her arms and faced him directly.

"So, Clive," she said calmly. "I know we're married now. But let's not pretend this is something it's not."

Her voice was even. Mature. Cold.

"You don't have feelings for me. That's fine. I'm not here to mess with your life. Let's just treat this marriage like a performance. I won't get in your way, and you don't get in mine."

There. She said it. Set the terms before he could.

Back then, she didn't walk away from Clive immediately.

But part of her heart had died at the altar.

They were just about to exchange rings - right at that moment - when his so-called first love barged in, tears streaming down her face. The entire venue froze. Cameras flashed. The media caught everything.

And Clive? He didn't hesitate. He walked off the stage and took her away.

Just like that.

Leaving Paisley standing there, alone, in her wedding gown.

He came back later, like nothing had happened. The ceremony went on. The vows were said. The rings exchanged.

But something inside her had already shattered. She tried to live with it. Tried to play the perfect wife. But with every passing day, the silence grew louder, and the distance colder.

Eventually, she left.

Ran straight into Ethan's waiting arms.

And when she left the Harrington estate, she didn't leave quietly.

She made a scene. Let them all know exactly how she felt. The perfect little marriage they'd all expected? Shattered.

From that moment on, everything between her and Clive fell apart.

But this time?

This time, she was putting it all on the table from the start.

If he wanted to see his precious first love, fine. She wouldn't stop him.

As long as he didn't interfere with her.

It was a perfect deal.

She saved his reputation. He stayed out of her business.

And when the time came for divorce, they could walk away clean.

Or at least, that was the plan.

"Performance?"

Clive's expression shifted instantly - whatever brief calm he'd found just moments ago vanished without a trace.

A performance?

She thought this marriage - to him - was nothing but an act?

Like he was some desperate man begging for someone to play pretend?

Paisley, meanwhile, kept speaking, entirely unaware of the temperature drop in the room. For a summer afternoon, the air had turned to ice.

"Yeah," she said, composed. "In front of the press, around your family at the Harrington estate - I'll be the perfect wife. No drama, no trouble. And when the day comes that you want someone else to wear the title of Mrs. Harrington, I'll walk away. Quiet and clean."

She meant every word.

In her mind, she was doing him a favor.

He had someone else in his heart, didn't he? That woman who showed up crying at their wedding, the one he disappeared with right before the vows?

Paisley thought she understood: he'd only married her because the family demanded it. So now she was offering him a way out - a logical, mature arrangement.

So why did Clive suddenly lose it?

Before she could react, he stepped forward and slammed her against the wall.

The shift was instant.

One second he was silent. The next, the room shrank under the weight of his fury.

His hand pressed beside her head. His body caged hers. His breath was ragged, furious.

"Paisley," he growled, voice low and dangerous. "You're mine. For life. Even in death, you'll be buried with the Harringtons. I'm not divorcing you. Don't even think about running."

His eyes were dark, wild - like a lion cornering prey. Terrifying. Unrelenting.

Paisley's heart raced.

Where had she misstepped? Why had her calm proposal triggered such rage?

But one thing was clear: if he thought he could lock her up again like before, he was dead wrong.

Still, she knew from experience - pushing him when he was like this would only make things worse.

So she changed tactics.

Her voice softened. "Clive... it hurts. Please don't hold me like this. Let me go, okay?"

The tears in her eyes weren't fake - but they were strategic.

Some things never changed. Playing soft still worked better than fighting fire with fire.

Sure enough, his grip loosened. His eyes flicked across her face, lingering on the shimmer in her lashes.

A beat passed.

Then without a word, he turned and walked out.

As the door shut behind him, the warmth in her eyes vanished, replaced by ice.

He didn't want a divorce?

Fine.

Let's see how long he could handle her playing by her own rules.

*****

Next day, in a café.

Paisley flipped through the documents Clive's secretary, Patrick Carter, had put together - his likes, dislikes, ideal woman, even the tiniest quirks were all there.

Just then, she received an anonymous email. Attached were pictures of a man and a woman dining at a super exclusive, couples-only restaurant - you had to book it a week in advance.

No prize for guessing who the man was: her husband, the same guy who'd just said he'd never divorce her.

The woman? Paisley remembered her well. That same tear-streaked face who'd caused a scene at her wedding - unforgettable.

Figures. Men say one thing and do another. Staring at the screen, all she could think was: what a joke.

So what did she do? Called up her closest guy friend, Lucas Morgan. Guy was a genius hacker - she needed someone skilled to dig into Ethan's company finances.

And let's be honest, she wasn't just looking for dirt. This was payback.

If Clive could flaunt his dinner dates, so could she.

Time to remind him that she wasn't someone to be taken for granted.