Reborn To Claim My CEO Husband

The cold, damp concrete of the federal penitentiary floor sucked the last remaining warmth from Elliana Lewis's body.

Every breath she took felt like inhaling broken glass. The metallic taste of blood pooled under her tongue, thick and suffocating.

"Get up, you piece of trash."

The sharp toe of Silas McCoy's heavy leather boot slammed into her ribs. Elliana's body jerked. A sickening crack echoed in the tiny cell. She couldn't even scream. Her vocal cords were paralyzed by the sheer, blinding agony that radiated through her chest.

"The Stirling family threw you away," the guard sneered, leaning over her. His hot, sour breath washed over her face. "You're nothing but a murderer now."

Murderer.

The word echoed in her fading consciousness. Clara Faulkner was dead, and Elliana had been framed for it. The evidence had been perfect. Flawless. And it had all been orchestrated by the one person Elliana had trusted with her life: her sweet, innocent stepsister, Jovita Lewis.

Images flashed behind Elliana's heavy eyelids. Jovita standing on the witness stand, her eyes wide and brimming with fake tears. "My sister didn't mean to do it," Jovita had sobbed to the jury. "She just has such a terrible temper."

Then came the memory of the final prison visit. Jovita had sat on the other side of the thick glass, wearing a custom Chanel suit and the diamond necklace that belonged to Elliana's mother.

"Damon never believed you, Ellie," Jovita had whispered into the phone, a cruel smile twisting her pretty face. "Your marriage was a joke from day one. Oh, and Dad? He had a stroke. Mom and I have already liquidated the company. You have nothing left."

Elliana's fingers twitched on the filthy floor.

It was all her own fault. She had been so incredibly stupid. After her wedding night, poisoned by Jovita's constant whispers, Elliana had demanded a divorce. She had thrown tantrums. She had created public scandals to humiliate the Stirling family, all to force Damon to let her go.

Damon.

He had taken every insult. He had absorbed every blow. She thought his silence was weakness, a lack of love. She didn't realize until it was too late that his endless tolerance was the deepest form of protection. She had pushed away the only man who would have burned the world down to keep her safe.

"Someone paid good money for this," Silas muttered, drawing his baton. "Told me to make sure you don't go out comfortable."

Jovita. She was tying up loose ends.

Another blow landed on Elliana's spine. The pain was so absolute it turned the edges of her vision white. Her bones felt like they were being ground into dust.

As the darkness rushed in to claim her, the last thing she saw wasn't the dirty ceiling of her cell. It was a pair of deep, dark eyes. Damon Stirling's eyes, looking at her with a mixture of profound pain and unyielding devotion.

I'm sorry, she thought, her heart giving one final, pathetic flutter. If I had another life, I would make them pay. I would never let you go.

Her lungs stopped. The world went dead silent.

Then, a blinding light pierced her retinas.

Elliana gasped, her chest heaving as she sucked in a massive lungful of air. She bolted upright, her hands flying to her ribs.

There was no pain. No broken bones. No concrete floor.

She was sitting in the middle of a massive, king-sized bed. The sheets were made of heavy, cool silk. The air in the room smelled like expensive cedarwood and a hint of dark musk-Damon's signature cologne. Beneath that, there was the faint, unmistakable scent of sex.

Her hands trembled violently as she looked down. She was wearing a thin silk nightgown. Her skin was flawless. The scars, the bruises, the dirt-they were all gone.

She reached out and touched the empty side of the bed. The sheets were still warm. Someone had just been here.

Her eyes darted around the room. The dark mahogany furniture, the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a manicured lawn. This was the master bedroom of the Stirling Estate. Her bridal suite.

Her gaze locked onto the digital clock on the nightstand. The date flashing in red numbers made her stomach drop to the floor.

It was ten years ago. The morning after her wedding.

Elliana dug her fingernails into her thighs. She pinched the flesh until it stung sharply.

It wasn't a dream.

She was alive. She was back.

The heavy oak door of the bedroom clicked and slowly pushed open.

"Ellie? Are you awake?"

A sweet, melodic voice floated into the room. Jovita Lewis stepped inside, her eyes wide with feigned concern. "How did it go with Damon last night? Was it... awful?"

Elliana stared at the woman standing in the doorway.

The memories of the prison floor, the shattered ribs, and the taste of her own blood violently crashed into her skull. Her fingernails dug so deeply into her palms that the skin nearly broke. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird.

She wanted to lunge across the room and wrap her hands around Jovita's throat. She wanted to squeeze until those fake, innocent eyes bulged out of her skull.

But Elliana forced her muscles to relax. She let her shoulders slump, mimicking the confused, irritable girl she had been ten years ago.

Jovita walked closer, carrying a glass of milk on a silver tray. She set it on the nightstand and sat on the edge of the mattress.

"Ellie, you look terrible," Jovita said, her brow furrowing in perfect, practiced sympathy. "Did you not sleep well? Did Damon... did he hurt you?"

Elliana's stomach churned at the manipulation. Jovita was planting the seed. She was trying to frame Damon's touch as a violation, stoking the fire of Elliana's past resentment.

In her previous life, Elliana had taken the bait. She had screamed, thrown the glass of milk at the wall, and stormed downstairs to demand a divorce from Damon before he even finished his coffee.

Elliana looked at the milk. She didn't touch it.

"It's nothing," Elliana said, her voice intentionally flat.

A flicker of surprise crossed Jovita's eyes. This wasn't the explosive reaction she expected.

Jovita reached out and affectionately linked her arm through Elliana's. "Sister, you don't have to force yourself. I know you don't love him. This arranged marriage is so unfair to you."

Jovita squeezed her arm. "Look at what he did to you last night. He didn't care about your feelings at all. A man like that, no matter how rich or powerful the Stirling family is, will never make you happy."

With her free hand, Jovita reached into her designer pocket and pulled out a small, unmarked plastic bottle. She pressed it into Elliana's palm.

"I got these from a friend. They're strong sleeping pills," Jovita whispered, her eyes darting to the door as if they were sharing a dangerous secret. "If he tries to force you again tonight, just slip a few into his drink. You can..."

Elliana stared at the little white pills rattling inside the plastic.

The memory hit her like a physical blow. In her past life, she had used these exact pills. During a screaming match, she had dumped them into Damon's whiskey. It had caused a severe gastric hemorrhage. Damon had been rushed to the hospital, and the entire Stirling family had turned against her in disgust.

Jovita had been paving her road to hell since day two.

Elliana tightened her grip on the bottle. Her knuckles turned stark white. She forced the corners of her mouth to lift into a weak, grateful smile.

"You're the only one who really cares about me, Jovita," Elliana said softly.

Jovita beamed, patting Elliana's hand. "We're sisters. You need to figure out how to divorce him quickly. The longer you drag this out, the worse it will be for you."

Jovita leaned in closer. "I heard Damon cares about the Stirling Group's reputation more than anything. You should go to his office today. Make a scene. Embarrass him in front of his employees. If he gets angry enough, he'll definitely sign the divorce papers."

Elliana nodded slowly, keeping her eyes wide and naive. "You're right. I can't just sit here and take this."

Satisfied that her poison had been swallowed, Jovita stood up. "I'll go wait for you downstairs. Mom has called three times already. She's so worried about you."

Elliana knew Greta Lewis didn't give a damn about her well-being. Her stepmother only cared if Elliana had successfully alienated the Stirling family yet.

"Okay," Elliana said.

The second the bedroom door clicked shut, the fake smile melted off Elliana's face, leaving behind a mask of pure, freezing ice.

She threw the blankets off and walked directly into the massive en-suite bathroom. She needed a moment to ground herself. She gripped the edges of the marble sink and stared at her reflection.

She looked so young. Her collarbones and the pale skin of her neck were covered in dark, purplish bruises-hickeys. The physical evidence of Damon's intense, desperate possession from the night before.

In her past life, she had scrubbed at her skin until it bled, disgusted by his touch.

Now, Elliana reached up and gently traced the marks with her fingertips. Her breath hitched. A strange, heavy heat pooled in her lower stomach. Damon. Even when she had been a monster to him, he had never truly hurt her.

She turned on the cold water and splashed her face, shocking her system into absolute clarity. After drying her skin, she slowly walked back out into the bedroom and approached the floor-to-ceiling window. Looking down at the manicured driveway, she saw Jovita standing near a black SUV. Jovita was whispering something to Damon's personal driver, slipping a folded piece of paper into the man's hand.

Jovita already had spies in the estate.

Elliana turned away, her resolve hardening into steel. She unscrewed the cap of the plastic bottle Jovita had given her. She dumped the white pills into the sink and watched them swirl down the drain.

This time, she was going to tear Jovita's life apart piece by piece. And she was going to hold onto Damon Stirling so tightly that nothing in this world could ever pry them apart.

Elliana walked into the walk-in closet. She bypassed the ripped jeans and graphic tees she used to wear to rebel against the family image. She pulled out a tailored, elegant beige dress that covered the marks on her neck perfectly.

She smoothed the fabric over her hips, took a deep breath, and opened the bedroom door. It was time to put on a show.

Elliana descended the grand spiral staircase, her heels clicking softly against the marble steps.

Jovita was already seated at the massive dining table, sipping orange juice. When she saw Elliana, Jovita gave her a subtle, encouraging wink.

Elliana ignored her. She looked at the head of the table. The chair was empty. The silver cutlery was untouched. Damon was already gone.

A pang of genuine sadness hit her chest. In her past life, Damon had left early the morning after their wedding, too. He had known she hated him, and he had given her space, burying himself in his work rather than facing her hostility.

"See?" Jovita said, her voice dripping with fake pity. "He doesn't value you at all. Ellie, you can't put up with this."

Elliana didn't look at her stepsister. She turned her gaze to the woman standing rigidly near the kitchen entrance.

"Marge," Elliana said, her voice calm and clear. "What time did Mr. Stirling leave?"

Marge Kowalski, the head housekeeper in her stiff black uniform, stepped forward. Her face was a mask of professional indifference. "The mister left an hour ago, Mrs. Stirling." Marge's tone was entirely devoid of warmth, the title dropping from her lips with a subtle, dismissive edge that felt more like a chore than a sign of actual respect.

Elliana's eyes narrowed slightly. The mister. And the cold, forced 'Mrs. Stirling'.

In her past life, she hadn't cared. She had hated the Stirling name. But now, the blatant disrespect in the housekeeper's attitude grated against her nerves. It was a glaring symbol of how little genuine authority she held in this house, despite her legal title.

"You go ahead and eat," Elliana said to Jovita, her tone dismissive. "I don't have much of an appetite."

Jovita panicked. She jumped up and grabbed Elliana's wrist. "You're going to go find him on an empty stomach? How are you going to have the energy to fight with him if you don't eat?"

Elliana looked down at Jovita's hand clutching her wrist. She yanked her arm back with a sharp, violent motion.

"Who told you I was going to fight with him?" Elliana's voice was like cracked ice.

Jovita froze. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. She stared at Elliana, a flicker of genuine fear crossing her wide eyes. This wasn't the impulsive, easily manipulated girl she knew.

Elliana turned back to the housekeeper. "Marge, prepare a breakfast to go. Pack it well. And have the driver bring the car around. I'm going to the Stirling Group."

Jovita's jaw dropped. The script in her head was entirely ruined. "Ellie, are you crazy? You're not going to demand a divorce? You're bringing him breakfast?"

Elliana stopped walking. She slowly turned around and locked eyes with her stepsister. A mocking smile curled the corners of her lips.

"Jovita," Elliana said softly, the threat in her voice unmistakable. "This is between my husband and me. Since when is it your place to tell me how to handle my marriage?"

Jovita's face drained of all color. She took a step back, physically intimidated by the sheer, crushing weight of Elliana's aura.

Without waiting for a response, Elliana walked straight into the kitchen. She bypassed Marge and stood over the prep counter, pointing at the ingredients.

"No pastries," Elliana instructed the stunned kitchen staff. "Make a simple club sandwich. And black coffee. No sugar, no cream."

She remembered exactly how Damon liked his breakfast.

Jovita stood paralyzed in the dining room. Her heart hammered with anxiety. Something was horribly wrong. Elliana was acting like a completely different person. Jovita quickly pulled her phone from her purse and typed a frantic text to her mother: Mom, the plan is messed up. Elliana is acting weird.

Ten minutes later, Marge walked out of the kitchen carrying an insulated paper bag. She handed it to Elliana, her expression still guarded.

Elliana took the bag by the handles. She didn't walk away immediately. She stood perfectly still, forcing Marge to maintain eye contact.

"From today onward, while you are inside this estate," Elliana said, her voice dropping an octave, "you will address me with the genuine respect due to Damon's wife, not as some temporary guest you can look down upon. Do you understand?"

Marge blinked, startled. She looked at the young woman standing before her. The rebellious teenager was gone, replaced by a woman radiating absolute authority.

Marge swallowed hard and bowed her head, the previous indifference completely wiped from her demeanor. "Yes, ma'am. I understand, Mrs. Stirling."

"Good." Elliana turned on her heel and walked toward the front doors.

Jovita, desperate to regain control, scrambled after her. "Sister, let me go with you! What if he treats you badly? I can protect you..."

Elliana stopped at the threshold. She didn't even look back.

"No need," Elliana said coldly. "Didn't you say Mom was worried about me? You should stay here. Give her a full report on exactly what I'm doing."

She hit the word report heavily.

Jovita gasped, her feet rooting to the marble floor. She didn't dare take another step.

Elliana walked out into the crisp morning air and slid into the back of the waiting town car. As the vehicle pulled away from the estate, she watched the scenery blur past the tinted windows. "Traffic is a bit heavy today, Mrs. Stirling," the driver remarked casually, glancing at the rearview mirror. "There's been a lot of chaos over by the East District intersections lately. Several major accidents just this week involving delivery trucks running red lights. We'll take the slightly longer route to be safe."

"That's fine," Elliana murmured, her mind entirely focused on her destination. Her chest felt tight, her pulse thrumming in her ears.

She was going to see him. And this time, she was going to do it right.