Reborn to Ruin My Cold Husband and Heartless Family

The year I hungered most for love, I leapt from the 18th floor, my body shattering beneath Lysander Crawford’s lifeless gaze. Blood stained the pavement, but he didn’t even flinch.

With chilling calmness, he called the police, the ambulance, and my parents.

The dramatic, tear-soaked family breakdown I had once imagined never came.

When they saw my mangled corpse, my father’s brows finally loosened, my mother exhaled a long, relieved sigh, and even my bitter older brother let out a laugh.

Only when Belle Gomez arrived did a flicker of panic spread across their faces.

Lysander shielded her eyes and said coldly, “It’s dirty. Don’t look.”

My brother quickly stepped in front of her, his voice gentle. “Belle, her death has nothing to do with you. Don’t waste your sorrow on someone like her.”

Even my parents joined in to comfort her. “Belle, your birthday’s tomorrow. Let’s throw you a grand party, alright?”

Their blind favoritism toward Belle turned my death into nothing more than a joke.

In that moment, regret came crashing in.

If I had the chance to do it all over again, I would never yearn for their love.

A gust of wind swept past me, and when I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very day I’d been taken home by the Gomez family.

——

The day I died, the sun burned mercilessly, so bright it hurt even to keep your eyes open.

Yet I saw Lysander’s expression with chilling clarity.

Eighteen floors above, Lysander stood, that familiar mocking smile playing on his lips.

He was laughing.

Laughing at my desperation, my foolishness. At how I still thought I had a place in his world.

Even from that distance, I could read his lips. “Jeanne, stop dreaming. I will never marry you.”

I clenched the report in my hand, knuckles turning white.

At the hospital today, the doctor gave me both good and bad news.

The good news? That one absurd night with Lysander had somehow resulted in a miracle. I was pregnant.

The bad news? Late-stage pancreatic cancer.

I didn’t curse fate, nor did I cry. I simply looked at Lysander and asked, calmly, “Can you give me a wedding, just to make up for it?”

Lysander’s refined brows tightened, his face twisted with disdain. “Jeanne, do you think you’re worthy?”

I didn’t know the answer.

Lysander and I had been engaged since birth, an arranged promise made long ago.

But everything changed the day I was born. Someone switched me with Belle.

And from that moment on, I became the poor girl raised in the mountains, while Belle took my place as the Gomez family’s beloved daughter.

When I was brought back to the Gomez family at eighteen, Lysander was the only one who showed me kindness.

I couldn’t help falling for him.

But I always knew, the girl he had protected for eighteen years was never me. So even in my dreams, I never dared to hope.

Until I turned twenty-two, and Lysander’s grandfather passed away.

Before his death, he left behind a will. Lysander could only inherit the company if he married me. And so, we registered our marriage.

There was no wedding, no blessings. Yet I still felt lucky beyond words.

Lysander gave me the title of Mrs. Crawford.

He brought me to banquets, appeared with me in interviews, and outsiders saw us as the perfect couple.

But behind closed doors, he never touched me. Not even a smile.

Three years slipped by in the blink of an eye.

Once, Lysander took me to a banquet, and someone had spiked his drink. And as his wife, I was naturally the one pushed into the room with him.

One absurd night.

The next morning, when Lysander woke and saw the bruises scattered across my skin, there wasn’t a trace of pity in his eyes.

Instead, he looked at me with cold disgust. “Jeanne, you’re disgusting.”

I parted my lips, just about to explain, but his phone rang.