Reborn Wives, Swapped Husbands

"Mr. Robertson, I must say, my two daughters are truly exceptional," Walter Brooks said, leaning forward with a tone thick with boastfulness. "They're a perfect match for your grandsons. Rest assured, once these four are married, you'll see this was the absolute right decision."

A familiar voice echoed in her ears.

Ashlyn Brooks's eyes snapped open as she dragged in a sharp, ragged breath.

Hadn't she just fallen to her death from an eighteen-story balcony?

How could she be back in the Brooks Residence?

The living room was immaculate—floor-to-ceiling windows gleamed, sunlight streamed through the glass dome overhead, and a faint floral scent drifted through the air.

Slowly, the memories came rushing back.

This was the year Arthur Robertson, patriarch of the Robertson family, had come to formally propose a union between their two houses.

This was the year she had chosen Simon Robertson—the second son, the man who would become the architect of her misery. The beginning of the nightmare that ended in her death.

Had she... been reborn?

If fate was truly giving her a second chance, she refused to make the same mistakes.

Everyone who had wronged her would pay in blood.

The Robertson family controlled a vast business empire that dominated the city—Ariden.

Marrying into their ranks was a dream countless other families could only aspire to.

And yet, the Robertsons had chosen the Brooks family.

The reason traced back decades to a bond forged between their grandfathers, long before either family had risen to prominence. Ashlyn's grandfather had once saved Arthur Robertson's life—a debt that led to an old-fashioned promise to one day join their families through marriage.

Now that the grandchildren were of age, Arthur felt honor-bound to see that promise through, whether the unions actually happened or not.

The Brooks family business had been in decline for years. The fact that the Robertsons still intended to honor that long-ago pledge was almost too good to be true. They could barely contain their glee. How could they possibly refuse?

A shadow passed through Ashlyn's eyes. In her last life, her dear sister Valerie Brooks had rushed to stake her claim before Ashlyn could, choosing Dylan Robertson, the eldest son.

Because Dylan was the sole heir to the Robertson business empire.

Marrying him guaranteed a life of unimaginable luxury and prestige.

Except, Dylan had already given his heart to someone else. This marriage alliance was nothing more than him bowing to his family's relentless pressure.

After the wedding, Dylan kept Valerie at arm's length. In public, they played the part of a perfect, polished couple; in private, they led entirely separate lives.

How could a woman as spoiled and willful as Valerie tolerate being outshone?

She schemed relentlessly against the woman Dylan loved, her jealousy eventually consuming her to the point of orchestrating Dylan's own downfall. And Valerie? She didn't fare much better. Her story ended in a pool of her own blood, dying alone in childbirth.

As for Ashlyn...

Her gaze slowly lifted—and met Simon's.

A flicker of surprise crossed his features before his expression softened into a warm, charming smile.

With his gentle demeanor, soft voice, and carefully cultivated sensitivity, he was the very picture of a cultured young man—the sort who seemed utterly incapable of harm.

A violent shudder tore through Ashlyn.

No one knew better than she did what kind of monster hid just beneath that gentle face.

The memories from her past life crashed over her, draining the color from her cheeks.

Instinctively, she tore her gaze away.

"Since you're also in favor of this, Mr. Brooks, why don't we let the girls decide for themselves who they'd like to marry?" Arthur Robertson's voice was warm and genial. "I know arranged marriages are outdated," he continued, "but people in our position must be cautious. The world is full of men looking to take advantage of young women from good families."

"Exactly," Walter agreed heartily.

Ashlyn lowered her gaze. She pressed her thumbnail hard into the soft flesh between her thumb and forefinger, the sharp sting jolting her back to a state of razor-sharp clarity.

This alliance was inevitable. Neither she nor Valerie truly had a choice.

"Dad!" Valerie burst out suddenly. "I choose Simon!"

Ashlyn froze. Why was Valerie's choice completely different from her past life?

Beside Valerie, Laura Brooks, Ashlyn's stepmother, shot her daughter a fierce glare, her voice dropping to a venomous hiss. "Think about what you're doing!"

Dylan was the one inheriting the entire Robertson empire. As for Simon—he was nothing but a researcher buried in a lab. What possible future could Valerie have with him?

"I've made my choice. Simon." Valerie rose to her feet, flashing a brilliant, confident smile in his direction.

Simon returned the smile with practiced ease. But as his gaze swept past Ashlyn, it lingered for a fraction of a second before moving on.

Walter frowned slightly. He clearly disapproved of Valerie's decision, but a lifetime of indulging her every whim kept him from speaking up.

"And you, Ashlyn?" he asked.

Ashlyn drew a slow, deep breath. She lifted her gaze and pointed directly at Dylan.

Dylan barely glanced up. His expression remained cold, unreadable. He gave her a single, indifferent look before turning away.

As she lowered her hand, she felt another gaze on her from the side—amused, appraising.

A cold dread washed over her, purely reflexive.

Ashlyn swallowed hard.

She didn't register much of what was said after that. Her mind was reeling, still caught in the aftershock of what had just happened.

She was half-convinced this second chance was nothing but a fever dream.

But the sting in her palm throbbed steadily, stubbornly real. That small, sharp pain was the only thing anchoring her to this moment.

Once the formalities concluded, they all moved to the dining room. The moment the meal ended, the Robertson family took their leave.

Simon's eyes lingered on them as he bid the family goodbye in his soft, low voice.

Dylan, on the other hand, didn't spare either of the Brooks sisters a single glance. He simply turned and left.

Only when Simon was finally gone did Ashlyn allow herself a deep, shuddering breath of relief.

She rose and headed wordlessly to her room.

Passing by the study, she heard the low, urgent murmur of voices from inside.

"Are you insane? Choosing Simon?!" Laura's voice was sharp with disbelief. "As long as Dylan is alive, Simon will never be the Robertson heir!"

That much was true.

Valerie was Ashlyn's half-sister.

Ashlyn's own mother had been dead barely a year before their father remarried, bringing Laura and her daughter into their home.

It was obvious he had been unfaithful long before Ashlyn's mother passed.

For years, Ashlyn had lived like a stranger in her own house.

"Mom, you just don't get it!" Valerie's voice cut through the door, sharp and impatient. "Dylan's already in love with someone else! This whole marriage proposal is just him giving in to family pressure. A man like that? He'd never even look at me, no matter how hard I tried."

"But by choosing Simon, you're just handing the position of the heir's wife straight to Ashlyn!" Laura snapped.

Valerie let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Her? She's not worthy. No one will ever measure up to the woman in Dylan's heart. Even if Ashlyn marries him, with that stiff, dull personality of hers, he'll never give her the time of day. Simon, though—he's different. He's attentive, gentle, and fiercely loyal once he commits." Her voice dropped, laced with a dark, conspiratorial certainty. "Besides... the question of who will inherit the Robertson empire is far from settled."

Ashlyn lowered her eyes and pushed open the door to her own room.

She leaned back against it, raising a hand to stare at her wrist. The skin was smooth, unblemished.

Not like in her last life, where an ugly, brutal scar had marred that very spot.

Valerie believed Simon was loyal and devoted. She was wrong.

The real Simon was cruel, vicious, and a master of psychological torture.

In her last life, he had clawed his way to the top by using her, stepping on her back and draining the life from her until she was nothing more than the bloody foundation for his success.

But in this life, she swore with cold, absolute certainty—

She would never let that happen again.