Reborn After Dying with My Child

In my previous life, I, Claire Holloway, was eight months pregnant, kneeling in a storm, begging Lucas Ashford to save the bankrupt Holloway Group.

But he held his first love, Vanessa Wren, in his arms, looking down at me with cold disdain.

"The Holloway Group's downfall was orchestrated by me. Did you really think I'd fall for a spoiled rich girl like you? If it weren't for getting my revenge today, I'd have found even touching you disgusting."

Consumed by despair, I took my life-and my unborn child's-on that bitter winter night.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day I was diagnosed with pregnancy.

Lucas was gently peeling shrimp for me, smiling as he asked what kind of diamond ring I wanted.

I looked at his hypocritical face and let out a quiet, cold laugh.

This time, I wouldn't make the same mistake again.

......

"Pink diamond or blue diamond? I heard a new batch of exceptional stones just came out of Uthax."

Lucas dipped the peeled shrimp into sauce, then brought it to my lips with a gentle smile.

"Why so quiet?" he asked, frowning slightly as he looked at me.

My gaze fell on the wedding band resting against his knuckle.

My stomach churned violently, impossible to suppress.

Just half an hour ago, I had been dying in that cold rain.

And now, I was sitting in the most expensive revolving restaurant in the city.

"Nothing. It just tastes a little... fishy."

I forced down the nausea clawing its way up my throat, barely managing a faint smile before swallowing the shrimp.

"Then don't eat it."

Lucas immediately set his fork and knife down.

He took a heated towel and carefully wiped his long fingers.

"I'll have the kitchen prepare a fresh wagyu dish for you."

"No need." I lifted the glass of lemon water and took a large sip, using the coldness to force the nausea back down.

"Lucas. I heard from my dad that the Holloway Group's Southside bidding project is running tight on cash flow lately. Do you think we can secure it?"

I held his gaze, watching him closely.

Lucas's hand paused for half a second.

"Of course we can."

He looked up at me.

"With me here, how could anything go wrong with the Holloway Group's projects? I've already personally guaranteed the funding with the bank."

He reached out, brushing toward my forehead.

"You've been too tired lately, Claire. Your father's getting older. I'll handle the company. You just focus on being Mrs. Ashford."

I turned my head, avoiding his touch.

Only someone who had already died once could see through that façade of devotion.

In my previous life, it was this so-called guarantee that he used to quietly drain the Holloway Group's core assets dry.

He walked away with the money, leaving behind crushing debt-enough to stop my father's heart.

"If you're not feeling well, head back early and get some rest."

He withdrew his hand, his tone still gentle.

"Oh, right. That fifteen percent of Holloway Group shares under your name-I'll have the lawyer bring over a proxy holding agreement tomorrow."

I looked up at him.

"A proxy holding agreement?"

"The Southside project requires us to demonstrate absolute control as a married couple to the board." He explained patiently, like he was teaching a child who knew nothing. "It'll be easier if the shares are consolidated under me when exercising voting rights."

I nodded thoughtfully.

In my previous life, it was at this very dinner that I signed that death warrant without a second thought.

It didn't just destroy the Holloway Group-it cost me my life as well.

"What, you don't even trust your husband now?"

He feigned a stern expression and pinched my cheek.

"Of course I do." I slipped away from his hand. "It's just... business stuff is too complicated. It gives me a headache just listening to it."

"Then leave it to me."

The smile at his lips deepened.

The phone on the table suddenly vibrated.

The screen lit up with his assistant's name-Grant Mercer.

"Sorry. Something urgent came up at the company. I'll take this."

Lucas picked up his phone and stood.

I nodded.

I watched him walk out to the balcony and slide the glass door shut.

It wasn't Grant at all.

It was the name he used as a cover-for Vanessa.

I picked up the glass of red wine he hadn't touched.

The crimson liquid poured slowly onto the pristine white tablecloth, spreading into a glaring stain.

Ten minutes later, Lucas pushed the door open.

His expression was slightly off.

"Claire, there's an urgent meeting at the company. I need to head out."

"Is it something serious?" I asked, feigning concern.

"Just a small issue. I can handle it." He leaned in and placed a hollow kiss on my hair. "I'll have the driver take you home."

I nodded obediently.

He left in a hurry, not even noticing the wine stain on the tablecloth.

The room fell silent again.

I took out my phone and called my father.

"Dad. Stop all funding for the Southside project immediately."

My father's voice came through the phone, laced with surprise.

"Why bring this up all of a sudden? Didn't Lucas say this project was guaranteed profit?"

"Listen to me. Pull the funding immediately." My grip tightened around the phone, my knuckles blanching. "And one more thing. If Lucas suggests mortgaging the Eastside land, do not agree to it."

"Did you have a fight with Lucas, Claire?" My father asked, his voice full of concern.

"No. Just trust me this once. I'll go back to the company tomorrow and check the accounts."

After hanging up, I glanced at the darkening sky outside.

The pregnancy test report in my bag had already been torn into pieces.

That life, which had once filled me with joy...

In my previous life, it had become the very blade he used to destroy me.

This time, I wouldn't even give his child the chance to be born.

At eleven that night, Lucas pushed open the bedroom door.

A faint trace of perfume clung to him.

It was Vanessa's favorite brand.

"Still awake?" he asked, slipping off his suit jacket as he walked to the bed.

"I was waiting for you." I closed the book in my hands.

He rubbed his brow.

"Didn't I tell you to rest early?"

"Long meeting?" I asked, my eyes fixed on the faint red mark at his collar.

"A few of the senior shareholders were difficult," he said with a sigh.

He lay down beside me and reached out to pull me into his arms.

I turned away, avoiding his arm.

"I think I'm coming down with something. Don't want to pass it to you."

Lucas's hand fell into empty space.

He went silent for a moment in the dark.

"Claire, you've been avoiding me all day."

"Have I?" I closed my eyes. "I'm just tired."

The room fell into a long, suffocating silence.

"Next week is our third anniversary," he said into the darkness. "What kind of gift do you want?"

"Anything from you is fine," I replied softly.

"Then don't forget to sign that proxy agreement tomorrow." He slipped into the real topic as if it meant nothing.

I opened my eyes, staring at the ceiling.

"Sure. Have the lawyer bring it tomorrow."

Late at night.

Lucas thought I was asleep.

He slipped out of bed, phone in hand, and headed toward the balcony.

I opened my eyes, watching his back.

The sliding door to the balcony was left slightly ajar.

The night breeze carried his deliberately lowered voice into the room.

"Vanessa, don't start. Didn't I spend the whole afternoon with you today? That old bastard already agreed to mortgage the Eastside land. As soon as the funds come through, the Holloway Group will be finished. Be good. Give me a few more days. Once the anniversary is over, I'll come clean with her."

His tone was just as gentle as when he coaxed me.

But beneath it, there was something rotten-something greedy enough to make my skin crawl.

Barefoot, I slipped out of bed, staying out of his line of sight as I made my way into the study.

The safe in the study was set to my birthday.

He had once used that detail to prove how deeply he loved me.

I entered the code and pulled open the heavy door.

Inside lay a thick stack of documents.

I opened the document on top and skimmed the text by the moonlight spilling in through the window.

It was a share pledge agreement, along with several side-bet contracts tied to shorting Holloway Group stock.

Lucas's name was signed under Party A.

Party B was an offshore company registered overseas.

Its legal representative was Vanessa's younger brother.

I took out my phone and photographed each page.

Then the screen suddenly lit up with a message.

An unknown number had sent me a picture.

It showed a messy bed.

Scattered across the sheets were a man's tie and the shirt I had personally picked out for Lucas that very morning.

Another message followed right after.

"Miss Holloway. Lucas said you're so stiff in bed that even touching you bores him. You've held onto the title of Mrs. Ashford long enough. Isn't it time you stepped aside on your own?"

Every word reeked of impatient, desperate possessiveness.

I looked at the photo on the screen without the slightest ripple of emotion.

In my previous life, I had confronted him with pictures like this, only to be brushed off with excuses about business rivals fabricating evidence.

Now it was obvious that even tricks this cheap had just been part of their little game.

I saved the photo and blocked the number without a second thought.

Then I bundled up the contract images I had just taken and sent them to my father.

"Dad, take a look at these."

Less than a minute later, he called.

My father's voice was low and trembling.

"Where did you get these, Claire?"

"From Lucas's safe," I said calmly, leaning against the desk.

"That bastard. He actually teamed up with outsiders to short the Holloway Group?"

"Dad, this is not the time to get angry," I cut him off. "First thing tomorrow morning, issue a public statement in the company's name. Terminate all cooperation related to the Southside project."

"But the penalty for breach of contract..."

"I'll figure out the penalty." My tone turned hard. "At the same time, move every liquid asset the Holloway Group can cash out into the overseas account I sent you."

He hesitated on the other end.

"What are you planning to do?"

"I'm going to make him pay back every last cent, with interest."

I stared at Lucas's signature in the photo.

Didn't he want a company?

Then I would hand him one. A company rotten to the core.

After hanging up, I put everything in the safe back exactly as it had been.

Then I slipped silently back into the bedroom.

Lucas was just coming in from the balcony.

He came back to bed with the chill of the night still clinging to him.

Out of habit, he wrapped an arm around my waist.

"Why are you still awake?" he asked, noticing how stiff my body had gone.

"I got cold and woke up for a bit." I didn't push him away.

"The lawyer will bring the agreement tomorrow. Once it's signed, I'll go with you to try on dresses for the anniversary."

His chin rested in the hollow of my neck, his breathing even.

I closed my eyes and answered with a single word. "Okay."

The next morning, the lawyer arrived at the Holloway mansion right on time with the proxy holding agreement.

Lucas sat across from me and personally handed me a pen.

"Sign it. From now on, I'll carry everything for the Holloway Group for you, Claire."

His eyes were so tender they could melt one's heart.

I took the pen and scrawled my name across the signature line.

As Lucas looked at my signature on the agreement, a flash of wild delight flickered in his eyes.

He slipped the document into his briefcase.

"Thanks, honey. I'll take you to try on couture dresses this afternoon."

"No need. I'm going shopping with a friend this afternoon." I stood up. "Just have the dress sent to the house."

"That works too. I'll head back to the company and take care of a few things first." He was clearly itching to cash in on that agreement.

As I watched him hurry away, I dialed my lawyer's number.

"Julian, what exactly triggers the agreement I just signed?"

Julian Cross's steady voice came through the line.

"The moment Lucas uses that agreement to mortgage assets, he automatically assumes all of the Holloway Group's hidden liabilities."

"Good." I hung up.

Lucas thought he had gotten his hands on the Holloway Group's lifeline.

What he had really taken was a one-way ticket to hell.

I lifted the coffee on the table and took a sip, letting the bitterness spread slowly across my tongue.