My Rebirth: A Billionaire's Sweet Vow

In my last life, my fiancé and stepsister stole my company and left me for dead.

Now, reborn, I have to watch it all happen again. At a lavish ball, Christian publicly humiliates me, flaunting his affair with my stepsister, Genevieve.

They think I'm the same weak woman who will crumble. Genevieve even steals the one proposal that could save my mother's legacy, texting me that I'll end up with nothing.

At a family dinner, Christian tries to force my hand, falsely announcing we're already married to secure his position.

He expects me to play along in front of the one man who could change everything: the legendary tech titan, Immanuel Romero.

But I refuse. When Christian grabs me in a rage, a powerful hand stops him.

Immanuel Romero steps between us, his voice like ice. "Never touch her again."

Then, he looks at the stunned room and makes an announcement that shatters their entire plan.

"Eliana is my fiancée."

Chapter 1

Christian' s voice cut through the opulent ballroom like a rusty knife. It wasn't the shock that made me flinch; it was the familiarity of the scene. The whispered taunts, the sneering faces of his friends, the way his gaze, once filled with what I thought was love, now held only a cold disdain. It was all happening again, just as it had before.

This time, though, I knew the script.

"Honestly, Eliana," he scoffed, his words carrying just loud enough for the small circle around us to hear, "must you always make things so difficult?"

A ripple of amusement spread through the onlookers. They were the usual crowd, the hangers-on, the social climbers who fed off drama. They saw a woman being publicly chastised by her fiancé. They didn' t see the years of carefully constructed lies beneath the surface.

I felt a familiar tightening in my chest, a phantom echo of the pain that had once brought me to my knees. My breath caught, but I didn't gasp. Instead, I let it out slowly, a silent exhale that steadied my trembling hands.

"Difficult?" I managed, my voice surprisingly even. "I believe I was simply trying to clarify something, Christian."

A snort from one of his cronies, a man named Mark, cut me off. "Clarify what, Eliana? That our Christian is too good for you?"

Laughter erupted, harsh and unfeeling. Another woman, with too much makeup and a condescending smirk, chimed in. "He's just being kind, darling. He always was too gentle for his own good."

Christian' s jaw visibly tightened. His face flushed a deep red, not from shame for me, but from the humiliation he felt by association. He hated being seen as anything less than perfect, especially in front of his sycophants.

His eyes, usually a warm hazel, hardened into chips of ice. "Kind?" he repeated, his voice dangerously low. "You want to talk about kindness, Eliana? You should learn what that word means."

He stepped closer, invading my personal space. His scent, a mix of expensive cologne and something subtly predatory, filled my senses. He leaned in, his lips barely moving, but his words were like venom.

"Look, Eliana," he hissed, his gaze flickering slightly past my shoulder, "we both know this engagement is... inconvenient."

My mind raced, ticking off checkboxes. This was faster than last time. The timeline had shifted. He was moving more quickly to discard me, driven by an urgency I recognized from fragmented memories of a future that hadn't quite happened yet.

His eyes, when they met mine again, held a strange, unsettling excitement. It wasn't about me. It was about her.

I instinctively followed his gaze. There, across the room, stood Genevieve Mendoza, my stepsister. Her usually vibrant red dress seemed to sag around her, and her eyes, wide and glistening, stared at Christian and me with an expression of profound sorrow. It was a performance I had seen before, a masterclass in feigned heartbreak.

She clasped her hands to her mouth, a soft sob escaping her lips. Then, with a dramatic flourish, she lifted her chin, meeting my gaze with a practiced fragility. She mouthed a silent "I'm sorry," her eyes swimming with what looked like tears.

"Oh, Christian," she whispered, her voice trembling as she approached us, radiating an aura of innocent martyrdom. "Please, don't argue with Eliana! I know... I know it's hard for her. But you two... you really should be together. For the company." Her words, meant to sound like a blessing, were a cruel twist of the knife, implying I was holding him back from his true happiness, which, in her twisted logic, was her.

Christian's hand flew out, catching her before she could collapse. He held her close, his eyes blazing at me over her shoulder. "See what you've done, Eliana?" he snarled, his voice laced with pure disgust. "You always have to ruin everything, don't you?"

He looked at Genevieve, his expression softening instantly. "It's okay, darling. Don't worry about her. Some people just don't understand what real love is."

My heart, which I thought had been shielded by foresight, still gave a painful lurch. The sheer audacity, the public display. It was a punch to the gut, even when I knew it was coming. My shock wasn't from surprise, but from the brutal confirmation.

Christian then turned his full attention back to Genevieve, pulling her even tighter against him, his lips whispering against her hair.

I watched them, the perfect picture of illicit comfort, and felt a cold fury begin to simmer beneath my skin. This time, I wouldn't just stand by.

This time, the script would change.

Christian held Genevieve close, his arm a possessive band around her waist. She leaned into him, her head resting on his shoulder, her tear-filled eyes darting to mine. It was a silent challenge, a victory lap in front of everyone.

Whispers started then, like rustling leaves in a dry forest. "Did you see that?" "Poor Genevieve." "Eliana always was a bit much for him." I could feel their eyes on me, sharp and expectant. They wanted a show. They wanted to see me break.

But I wouldn't give them the satisfaction.

Christian tightened his grip on Genevieve, his gaze flicking to me, a smug satisfaction in his eyes. He expected a reaction, a meltdown, the usual Eliana.

He was wrong.

Before he could open his mouth to deliver another blow, I turned on my heel. My exit was quiet, devoid of drama. I just walked.

"My car, please," I told the attendant at the valet stand, my voice steady.

A moment later, Christian' s sleek black sedan pulled up, blocking my path. The window slid down, revealing Christian' s imposing figure.

"Get in, Eliana," he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. "We need to talk."

My eyes drifted past him, landing on Genevieve in the passenger seat. She offered me another one of her fragile, apologetic smiles.

Christian caught my glance. "What?" he snapped, his irritation clear. "She's coming with us. Is that a problem?"

Genevieve quickly interjected, her voice saccharine sweet. "Oh, Christian, maybe Eliana would prefer to ride alone. I can always take a cab." She made no move to get out of the car. Her hands remained clasped innocently in her lap.

Christian squeezed her shoulder. "Nonsense, darling. You're upset enough. Eliana can sit in the back." His eyes narrowed as he looked at me. "Now get in, Eliana. Don't make a scene."

I didn't argue. I just opened the back door and slid inside, the rich leather cool against my skin. Genevieve immediately reached for Christian's hand, lacing her fingers through his. She then rested her head against his shoulder, her eyes fluttering closed as if totally exhausted by the emotional turmoil.

They were a tableau of intimate betrayal in the rearview mirror. I watched as Christian stroked her hair, his thumb tracing patterns on her skin. The entire interaction was a calculated insult, a deliberate display for my benefit.

A sickening lurch jolted me forward. It wasn't the car. It was the realization that I had once believed this man.

"What do you think you're doing?" Christian' s voice ripped through the silence.

I looked up. He was staring at me in the rearview mirror, his face a mask of anger.

"You got out," he accused, his voice thick with indignation.

My own car, a discreet silver sedan, had just pulled up behind his. "My driver arrived," I stated, my voice devoid of emotion.

He stared at me, his eyes searching, confused. "Are you punishing me, Eliana? Is this some new game?" He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. He practically threw it at me. It landed with a soft thud on the seat beside me. "Here. Keep it. Don't make things difficult. Just... cooperate."

I looked down at the box. It held the engagement ring, a diamond I had once believed symbolized our future. Now it felt like a cheap prop.

"Cooperate with what, Christian?" I asked, my voice flat. "Your affair with my stepsister?"

His face went pale, then red. He glanced nervously at Genevieve, who mercifully seemed to be asleep. "Keep your voice down, Eliana!" he hissed, his eyes blazing. "Don't you dare ruin this for her!" His voice lowered, filled with a sudden, fierce protectiveness that had never once been for me. "She's delicate. And she's nothing like you. She's pure. She actually loves me."

The words hit me like a physical blow, not because they hurt anymore, but because of the sheer absurdity. Pure? Delicate? Genevieve? I had seen enough to know better.

I simply looked at him, then at the ring, then back at him. "You truly think so?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. "You really believe she's pure?" He flinched, as if my words had scalded him. "You're delusional, Christian."

Without another word, I opened the car door and stepped out, leaving the velvet box on the seat. My driver quickly opened my door. I slid into my own car.

As we pulled away, I checked my phone. Genevieve' s latest Instagram story popped up. A close-up of her hand, delicately holding Christian' s. On her ring finger, a dazzling emerald-cut diamond ring, far more extravagant than the one he' d given me. The caption read: "Finally found my true happiness. "

My phone buzzed again. Christian.

I answered, putting it on speaker. I could hear Genevieve' s soft murmuring in the background. "Christian, what do you want?"

"Eliana," he stammered, "I... I just wanted to say... that was uncalled for. You upset Genevieve."

Then, a soft giggle from Genevieve, followed by Christian's hushed reply, "No, baby, I told you, she's nothing. Just a problem I'm handling."

I ended the call.

Immediately, a text message from an unknown number flashed across my screen. It was Genevieve.

"You really thought he loved you? Pathetic. He never did. He just wanted Hayden Innovations. But I' ll make sure he gets that too. And you? You'll have nothing."

The phone almost slipped from my numb fingers. The future might have shifted, but Genevieve' s venom was a constant.

Genevieve' s message burned on my screen, a stark reminder of her true nature. I remembered her innocent smiles, her whispered apologies, the way she played the victim in every scenario. It wasn' t a sudden revelation; it was an affirmation of what I already knew, a chilling echo from the future that had been erased.

But her casual cruelty, her open gloating, it was new. The timeline had shifted. She was bolder, more confident, fueled by Christian' s immediate support. This meant I had to be bolder too.

My gaze hardened. They thought they could break me. They thought I was the same Eliana, the one who would crumble under the weight of betrayal.

They were wrong.

In my previous life, my marriage to Christian had been a strategic alliance, brokered by my father, but one I had entered with genuine hope. I had poured my heart and soul into Hayden Innovations, growing its market share, developing groundbreaking tech that had earned accolades from industry giants. My family' s elders, especially my late mother' s brothers, had praised my acumen, often lamenting Christian' s lack of vision compared to mine.

Christian, on the other hand, had treated me like an accessory, a means to an end. He' d barely tolerated my presence, his coldness a constant shadow in our meticulously decorated home. I had clung to the hope that my achievements, my dedication, would eventually earn his respect, perhaps even his affection. Foolish, I knew now.

That illusion shattered when I discovered the truth: not just his affair with Genevieve, but their meticulously crafted plan to dismantle Hayden Innovations, to sell off the patents I had painstakingly developed, all for their personal gain. The pain was excruciating, a betrayal that went deeper than just my heart. It attacked my legacy, my mother' s legacy.

"Miss Eliana?"

The soft voice of Mrs. Gable, our long-time housekeeper, pulled me from my reverie. She stood at my office door, her face etched with a familiar mixture of concern and pity. "Your sister, Genevieve, will be arriving this evening. Your father asked me to inform you."

I froze. Genevieve. Here. Now. My mind reeled. This was happening so much sooner. In the previous iteration, she hadn't dared to show her face for weeks after Christian's public declaration.

Mrs. Gable wrung her hands, her gaze fixed on me. She knew. She had always known more than she let on, her silence a protective shield around my father's fragile peace. But her silence had also been complicity, a quiet acceptance of the injustice I faced. No one in the family, save for one, had truly stood up for me. Not really.

My father, Freddy Hayden, was a good man, but weak-willed. He always believed in keeping the peace, often at my expense. "Just be the bigger person, Eliana," he'd pleaded countless times, dismissing Genevieve' s petty cruelties as mere sibling rivalry.

But there was one. My Uncle Thomas, my mother's younger brother. He was the maverick, the black sheep who had found his own fortune outside the family business. He was sharp, perceptive, and fiercely loyal to my mother's memory. I remembered his quiet, unwavering support, his veiled criticisms of Christian, his thinly disguised contempt for Genevieve' s manipulations.

He had always seen Christian for what he was: a charming parasite. He' d often said, "Eliana, you're too good for that boy. You deserve a man who sees your worth, not just your name."

A daring thought sparked in my mind. A strategy, bold and unconventional, that could offer a way out, a path to reclaim my company and my life. An alliance with the right man.

The idea was audacious, almost reckless. I wasn't even sure he would agree. But what did I have to lose?

"Miss Eliana?" Mrs. Gable asked again, her voice softer this time. "Are you alright?"

I looked at her, then offered a small, knowing smile. "I'm perfectly fine, Mrs. Gable. Better than fine."

I had a vital task to complete. A proposal. Not for marriage, not yet. But for a partnership that would change everything.

I spent the rest of the day in my office, hunched over my desk, meticulously crafting a new business proposal. It was a revised version of the one I had originally prepared for Christian, outlining the merger between Hayden Innovations and his firm, Chavez Technologies. But this time, the target was different. Far grander.

Romero Industries.

Immanuel Romero. The legendary tech titan, a man who built an empire from nothing, a man my mother had deeply respected. He was a recluse, notoriously difficult to approach. But he had also been a close friend and colleague of my mother. That was my only, albeit slim, advantage.

The proposal I was now writing was not just about business; it was about survival. It detailed Hayden Innovations' core strengths, its patents-especially the ones Christian and Genevieve coveted-and projected stunning growth potential under the right leadership. This was the same technology that Genevieve had stolen from my office in the previous timeline, the very project she believed was her ticket to wealth.

I worked through the night, fueled by strong coffee and an even stronger resolve. The old proposal, initially brimming with optimism for a future with Christian, lay discarded in my mental trash bin. This new one was cold, calculated, a weapon forged in the fires of betrayal.

As dawn broke, painting the sky in hues of rose and gold, I finally leaned back, exhausted but satisfied. The presentation was perfect. It highlighted the synergy, the market dominance we could achieve together. More importantly, it subtly emphasized the danger posed by predatory firms-like Christian' s.

I stood up to stretch, my muscles aching. Just a quick power nap, then I would begin the painstaking process of getting an audience with Immanuel Romero.

I closed my laptop, set it carefully on my desk, and left the office for a quick break.

When I returned, the laptop was there. But the USB drive, containing the only copy of my meticulously prepared proposal, was gone.

My blood ran cold.

No. Not again.

My fingers flew across the keyboard, accessing the office security footage. I fast-forwarded to the early morning hours, after I had left. The door to my office opened. A slender figure, cloaked in shadow, slipped in. My heart hammered against my ribs. The figure moved with practiced ease, directly to my desk. They picked up the USB drive. And then, as they turned to leave, a detail caught my eye. A small, distinctive silver charm dangled from their wrist – a gift my father had given Genevieve for her last birthday.

My hands trembled, not from fear, but from a rage so potent it made my vision blur. Genevieve. Again. She had stolen it. Just like she had stolen my peace, my fiancé, and tried to steal my future.

I didn't think. I just moved. I stormed out of my office, a primal scream building in my throat. I knew exactly where she would be.

Her office.

I yanked open the door without knocking. And there she was, sprawled across Christian' s lap, his hands tangled in her hair, their mouths locked in a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. They sprang apart, startled, Christian' s face a picture of guilt and fury, Genevieve' s a mask of feigned shock.

"You!" I shrieked, my voice raw, pointing a trembling finger at Genevieve. "You bitch! You stole my proposal!"

Christian was on his feet in an instant, pushing me back. "What the hell is wrong with you, Eliana?! Get out!"

Genevieve, ever the actress, dissolved into tears, clutching Christian' s arm. "Oh, Eliana, please! Don't be mad! I... I just wanted to see what you were working on! I was just curious!" She even started to slide off his lap, as if to kneel. "I'm so sorry! Please don't be angry!"

Christian caught her, pulling her back up. "Stop it, Genevieve, don't you dare humble yourself for her!" He glared at me. "What are you even talking about? What proposal? Why are you always creating drama?"

"My proposal!" I screamed, my voice cracking. "The one for Romero Industries! She stole it!"

Christian' s face contorted into something ugly. "The Romero proposal? What a joke! You think he would ever look at your amateur work? You truly are delusional. You're just jealous that Genevieve is finally getting some attention." He laughed, a short, cruel sound. "Go on, Eliana. Get angry. It just proves how desperate you really are."

My eyes fell on Genevieve' s laptop, open on her desk, a familiar file name glowing on the screen. My proposal. My rage boiled over.

Without a second thought, I grabbed a heavy paperweight from Christian' s desk and brought it down with all my might onto Genevieve' s laptop screen. The glass shattered, spiderweb cracks spreading across the display, a loud, satisfying crunch echoing in the sudden silence.

Genevieve shrieked, a genuine sound of horror this time. "My laptop! My work! You ruined it!"

I stared at her, then at Christian, a cold, hard smile spreading across my face. "Oh, Genevieve, darling," I drawled, mimicking Christian' s condescending tone from earlier. "You want to talk about ruined? You haven't seen anything yet."

Christian stared at me, his eyes wide with a mixture of shock and something I couldn't quite decipher. "Eliana," he began, his voice laced with disbelief, "what has gotten into you?"

I didn't answer. I just turned and walked out, leaving them in the wreckage of their betrayal.

"Eliana! Don't you dare walk away from me!" Christian yelled, lunging forward.

But Genevieve, still clutching her shattered laptop, whimpered, "Christian, my report! It's gone!"

He hesitated, a split second of indecision. That was all I needed. He turned back to comfort her.

"What is wrong with you, Eliana?" I heard him shout as I walked away. "She was just trying to help you!"